Forget Geno’s (across the street from Pat’s). He just died, but even before that he had the most politically incorrect, not to mention god-awful cheesesteak on the planet. How he even got into contention, I’ll never know.
Unfortunately, Pat’s kind of got caught up in the attitude wars. Used to be they were neighborhood joints and everyone knew what to do. Then they got famous and every god-damn politician in the world who set foot in Philly had to got to Pat’s (Democrats) or Geno’s (Republicans) in order to tuck their tie into their shirt and spill ketchup and steak juice on their shirt. Who knows, maybe they never even took a bite after the requisite photos were taken.
So now they’re famous and they have attitude.. excuse me, att—ee—tooode! Geno’s won’t serve noone ain’t speak no English. Pat’s makes you memorize how to order a steak before you are actually allowed to order one. It’s like a cheese steak gong show. Don’t do it right and they kick you outta line.
It’s for the tourists. Dreck. used to be Pat’s was the best and they actually took care to make a good steak. The meat was hot and the cheese melted (although that’s not an issue if you want whiz). A real steak is made with provolone, in my opinion, but you can find a different opinion on every street corner if you want.
The best steak actually used to be made by Pat’s nephew, Rick, who ran an operation at the Reading Terminal Market, but they kicked him out for a perfume vendor, or some other kind of upscale bullshit tourist trap novelty store. So you can’t get one of his steaks any more.
So there is no best steak anymore. Some like the shop at 4th and South. Others mention all kinds of stores in the burbs or in the city. My advice is that you go to the Geno’s/Pat’s corner and one of you gets a steak from Geno’s and the other gets the same thing from Pat’s, and you walk back to your car, swap halves, and decide for yourselves. I say this having never tasted a Geno’s steak, nor ever planning to taste one.
Take in the att-ee-toode and watch the locals (or what passes for locals these days—these yuppified days) and get the full experience. They eat your heart-attacks-on-wheels and draw your own conclusions. Let us know what you think.