Cheesesteak

You've read it, heard it, tasted it, savored it, seen it in photo op action: Want a "classic" or "authentic" Philly cheesesteak? Gotta go with Cheez Whiz. Maybe it's time to melt that myth. True, Whiz is king at Pat's and Geno's, those legendary South Philly sites at Ninth and Passyunk. During the Pennsylvania primary, Comedy Central's Stephen Colbert said their feud was fiercer than the Democrats' - and showed a sandwich dripping with Whiz. Barack and Michelle Obama, as well as Bill and Chelsea Clinton, ate at Pat's - and had Whiz.

SO OBAMA didn't make the obligatory stop at Pat's or Geno's. I applaud him on skipping the two tourist traps that are the McDonald's and Burger King of cheesesteaks in the city. There are other joints to get a great cheesesteak, including Jim's, D'Allessandro's and John's Roast Pork. Bryan Flannery, Chalfont

The best cheesesteak in town last week wasn't in South Philly, it was in LOVE Park near City Hall where caterer (and Frog founder) Steve Poses grilled up 1,000 samples of grass-fed, organic beef - from Landisdale Farm in Lebanon County - for giveaway steak sandwiches to promote Philly Homegrown, the campaign to showcase local foods. The meat was tender, but notably beefier, earthier, and less fatty than the standard fare, and at $6.50 a pound, it cost the sponsoring the Greater Philadelphia Tourism Marketing Corp.

THIS spring, Councilman Goode and I introduced a resolution authorizing City Council's Committee on Commerce and Economic Development to hold hearings examining the operations and effectiveness of the numerous economic-development entities in Philadelphia. Over the last year, I've been looking into the public dispute between the Reading Terminal Market and Rick Olivieri that was the subject of a recent column by Jill Porter ("Booting of Rick Olivieri Has a Bad Smell to It," June 4)

The health attributes of Philadelphia's signature foods are beyond debate. Hoagies and scrapple are salty and fatty. Soft pretzels and Krimpets are loaded with empty carbs. Cheesesteaks? All of that. But in this supersized America, a one-thousand-calorie sandwich seems to fit right in. Then why are two major Philadelphia sandwich players - Tony Luke's and Rick's Original Steaks - going smaller? Both have introduced 6-inch versions of the traditional 9-inch sandwiches at their food-court locations.

Junior knew it was the calm before the storm when he looked out the back door at Pat's Steaks and saw a cop directing traffic. In South Philly. "Rita, what's up?" called Frank E. "Junior" Olivieri, son of the owner of Pat's Steaks, to Rita the crossing guard. "The president's coming," Rita said. "Yeah, OK," Olivieri answered. A few minutes later Mayor Rendell called. The mayor told him, "I'm coming down for steaks, and I'll be with the president. " As Olivieri hung up the phone at the famous sidewalk eatery at 9th and Passyunk, "There was like an invasion of suits, men with earplugs . . . You know, they're Secret Service.

Every so often - perhaps weekly - someone futzes with the cheesesteak, removing the Philadelphia-ness from it. Enter Olivier Desaintmartin, chef-owner of Caribou Cafe in Center City, who has gone all Frenchy with his Parisian cheesesteak, which he bills as a more elegant and refined option. He starts with a Dijon-slathered French baguette, naturally, upon which he layers prime rib, haricots verts, frites, and - you say you want yours wit', pal? - gooey Brie. Get out of town.

Barack Obama vows he shall return and sample a cheesesteak. Just one? Yesterday, sports talker Glen Macnow of WIP (610 AM) posted his nearly final rankings of 45 cheesesteaks sampled between West Chester to Atlantic City. Only the order of the top six could change, pending a final on-air showdown at noon on Saturday, April 19. Interestingly, ranked No. 1 was also the place that finished first with Inquirer restaurant critic Craig LaBan after his 2002 whirlwind tour of 23 eateries: John's Roast Pork on East Snyder Avenue in South Philadelphia.

Where else can you dress like a woman and not get in trouble?" inquires one burly South Philly fellow in Strut! - Max Raab's affectionate cheesesteak of a movie celebrating the centuries-old tradition of strumming string bands, festooned fancy brigades, and beer-blottoed cross-dressers that is the City of Brotherly Love's New Year's Day pride and joy, the Mummers. A straightforward documentary that takes a look at the past, present and future (see pipsqueaks in plumage!) of Mummery, Strut!

Chain: Charleys Philly Steaks. Company description: Chicken, provolone cheese, Buffalo sauce & ranch.   Calories: 526, with 16 grams fat, 1,703 mgs salt. Location: The Gallery Food Court. Order time: A few minutes. Price: $4.29 (small sandwich). Review: There are more than 500 Charleys Philly Steaks locations, and one of them has finally made it to . . . Philly. The city's cheesesteak royalty doesn't have much to worry about, but that doesn't mean Charleys makes a bad sandwich.

YOU'VE HAD Pat's. You've had Geno's. You've had Tony Luke's and John's and Jim's and Steve's and D'Alessandro's and Donkey's and Chubby's and Cosmi's and Chick's and dozens more. But have you had a cheesesteak pot pie? Wontons? Spring rolls? Bao buns with spicy pickled shallots, homemade sriracha and micro cilantro? Yeah, probably. Eighty-three years after its invention, Pat and Harry Olivieri's humble creation - originated with butcher's scraps and a hotdog roll - has gone international.

ONE CAN only imagine what the late Joey Vento of Geno's fame would have thought of a cheesesteak joint where it's expected that customers will order in Spanish. But we assume that even Vento, who notoriously asked that his customers order in English, would have no beef with Rocky's Philly Steaks. After all, it's in Buenos Aires, Argentina. So, how on earth did the cheesesteak migrate 5,266 miles south? "I thought the Argentines would like the cheesesteak," explained Matthew J. McCarthy.

LET'S FACE IT, the real question here is: Does Rocky's cheesesteak live up to the high standards we natives set for this most Philadelphian of delicacies? The answer, in short, is no. The combination of machine-processed cheese and mayonnaise glopped onto the steak is distinctly un-Philadelphian. (Argentines have a love affair with mayo, so its presence here is not surprising.) These ingredients create a topping you'd be more likely to get at a bar in Davenport, Iowa, or Omaha, Neb., than on a steak from an authentic joint in the City of Brotherly Love.

IF SHE didn't know it already, Lisa DeBella will now: her husband of 17 years has been carrying on a 30-year love affair. But she needn't worry: the object of his affection isn't a woman; it's Philadelphia. How else do you explain why John DeBella, the 62-year-old WMGK-FM (102.9) morning-drive host - a native New Yorker, no less - has been in Philadelphia since the days when Ronald Reagan was president and Julius Erving and Moses Malone were the talk of the town? Why else would he have hung around even during the years when he was suffering professional humiliation and personal tragedy?

Shaun White's cab was navigating the narrow streets of South Philadelphia on Friday night when the driver pointed out that Geno's Steaks was just ahead. "Where is it? I can't see it," White joked about the brightly lit steak shop. This was the snowboarder's first trip to Philadelphia - or at least he was pretty sure it was. After his flight from California, White couldn't decide between Pat's or Geno's, so he chose both. White, who has emerged as the face of extreme sports over the last decade, has won a pair of Olympic gold medals and is one of the world's elite in both snowboarding and skateboarding.

MAYBE MIKE CAMPO has a legitimate beef with bureaucrats at the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office. The Old City sandwich shop Campo's Deli at Market has sued the director of the Patent and Trademark Office, David Kappos, in federal court over the rejection of Campo's bid to trademark "Philadelphia's Cheesesteak. " Campo's claims in its civil complaint that its sandwich is "so superlative" and "gloriously gluttonous" that only it could be called "Philadelphia's Cheesesteak. " A claim any reputable Philadelphia cheesesteak proprietor might make, right?

If hometown spirit counted in the scoring, a trio of regular Philly folk would have won $25,000 on Beat the Chefs Thursday night. They wore Phillies uniforms, made cheesesteaks their chowdown-showdown challenge, brought Amoroso rolls and bottles of Yards Brawler, and whooped it up appropriately, despite a not-so-laidback Los Angeles chef snarling about Philly being so angry. Alas, at the end of the Game Show Network program, taped in L.A. in July, the judges shot down the efforts of beer-industry consultant Michael Pearlman, his fiancee, designer Stephanie Singer, and food-cart novice Joe Hardy.

What's cooking? A classic sandwich selection — from turkey and cheese on white bread to a hearty Philly cheesesteak. A line can be found at Gus's for breakfast, too. They're family: Gus Katseftis and his wife, Joan, along with various family members, fed employees of the Daily News, Inquirer and philly.com for 21 years from Gus' spot next to the company's former headquarters at Broad and Callowhill streets. Convenient, yes, but what kept people coming back was the menu. Satisfied customers: "It's old-school," said Craig LaBan, Inquirer food critic and frequent Gus' customer.

You can order stuff off a chalkboard. Male servers and bartenders have unruly beards; their female counterparts sport tanktops and sleeve tattoos. At least one menu item contains the word "toasts. " The menu has a lengthy description of the burger. It also offers bone marrow, fried chicken or an obscure pig part.??? You can get a salad, but you'll never see anybody eating one at the bar. The words "artisanal," "organic," or "wood-fired" will be prominent.?