A cheese steak is a deeply Philadelphia specialty food evincing a strong Italian-American heritage. It started off as a street-food way to use cheap cuts of beef and has grown over the years to an art form. There are any number of locally famous places, most of which started as some guy with a pushcart and evolved to a fixed location and which have been in place for many years.

Basically, one takes a really cheap piece of beef and freezes it lightly. Then, one takes a knife or cleaver and chips off thin pieces of this slab of meat, resulting in what was called “Chip steak”. This process is pretty much automated or done in a factory setting nowadays, and the chip steak arrives at the vendor in pre-chipped, ready-to-cook form.

Anyway, the next step is to get fresh Italian bread rolls. These are the “torpedo” shaped, long and narrow, as opposed to round. In Philadelphia, the local water and local taste preference results in these being baked with a relatively soft crust (compared to, say, New York, where the water and baking style yields a harder crust. The rolls will be split lengthwise, but not all the way through.

Fire up the griddle – a flat cast iron diner-style griddle. The heat does not have to be exceptionally high as the objective is not to caramelize or crust anything, but rather to cook it. Most of the cooking is done with steam the food itself generates.

The methods of cooking differ. Some put the beef atop a bed of onions. and steam cook the two together. Some put the beef on the grill and cook the onions separately. Whatever. The idea is that the beef and sliced onions are cooked, more through steaming than frying, under cover, on the griddle. A high-domed pot lid works well.

At some point in the cooking, the cheese is added. Deep discussions and arguments can take place over which sort of cheese and when to add it. Some prefer squirting CheezWiz from a squeeze bottle. Some prefer sliced provolone (not the really hard stuff, but the stuff you could get on a sandwich). A few go for mozzarella or cheddar or, even, white American slices. Whatever. The idea is to get it on the meat and onions (by now mixed with the spatula and let it melt so as to sort of hold this mess together.

Assembly is the next step. Some places will slap some sauce on the inside of the split roll, then lay the roll atop the cooking mass of meat, onion and cheese, let it all cook a few seconds then artfully flip all of that upright. Some will load the roll with the meat, onions and cheese, then slather sauce atop it. Just about any combination of steps can and has been used here – another point of discussion.

The sauce referred to is tomato-based. It can be as simple as ketchup, as complicated as Grandma’s secret marinara recipe, or anywhere in between. Another point of discussion, but one where all agree that A-1 and similar “steak sauces” do not come into the picture. Usually, one can add more sauce if they desire.

Some people add sliced button mushrooms or sliced green peppers to be cooked with the meat and onions. Some don’t.

Some people add sliced hot italian frying “banana” pepper rings atop everything. These are sold, pickled, in gallon jars in the Philadelphia area and only a few other places. They are usually yellow in color – very distinctive.

The sandwich is usually served either on waxed paper with or without a cardboard tray-dish underneath it. Traditionally, it is eaten standing up, often at a chest-high counter, which derives from its origin as street food. There is a distinctive “stoop” used, where one bends forward from the waist before drawing the sandwich toward one’s mouth for a bite. This is a practical adaptation to protect clothing from the mess. These are exceptionally messy and drippy sandwiches and, given the combination of tomato, cheese and grease, will make short work of nice clothes. If you are silly enough to wear a necktie, tuck it inside your shirt before even approaching the counter.

Using knives and forks to eat these mark one as an outsider.