Phoundations of Philly: The Philly Cheesesteak
While many sandwiches have disputed origin legends – rife with [...]
Phoundations of Philly: The Philly Cheesesteak
While many sandwiches have disputed origin legends – rife with [...]
While many sandwiches have disputed origin legends – rife with competing claims and foggy backstories – it seems that most Philadelphians agree Pat Olivieri created our style of steak sandwich in the early 1930s. It is true, perhaps, that combining steak and onion in the same dish, as Pat did for his first steak, was not exactly a groundbreaking ingredient pairing, but it was nonetheless Pat’s particular spin that kickstarted this regional icon.
(When asked if he’s ever heard an alternative version of the steak origin story, Ken Silver – the current owner of Jim’s Steaks on South Street, another institution in the city – said, somewhat cagily, “No. And even if I had, I probably wouldn’t tell you.”)
Though the specific details seem to change every time it’s told, the basics of this tale remain the same. “Hot dogs and pork, that’s all I see, and all I eat. For once, I’m going to live a little,” Pat told the Inquirer in 1951, of his inspiration day. “Here,” Pat recalled saying, flipping a coin to his brother Harry, “go over to the butcher shop and get me a hunk of steak.” Pat then grilled the steak with some onions on the flat top and put it between two slices of bread.
“Whatcha got there,” a man approaching the stand asked.
“I guess you’d call it a steak sandwich,” Pat said he replied. “Never made one before.”
“Looks good,” said the man. “Gimme one.”
“You got this one,” Pat said. “I was gonna eat it myself, but the way business has been lately, I can’t quibble. Gimme a dime.”
One thing is certain: Pat’s original sandwich did not contain cheese. That innovation didn’t arrive until two decades later, when an employee at Pat’s Strawberry Mansion location named “Cocky” Joe Lorenzo thought to add some dairy. According to Pat’s son Herb Olivieri, on that fateful March 1951 day, Lorenzo was tired of eating steaks the same way every day, so he put some American cheese on the grill, which melted and mixed in with the beef. Pat, who was apparently watching all of this, simply said, “Joe, do that again.”
Special thanks to Mike Madaio, author of A History of Philadelphia Sandwiches, available now online or at most local bookstores.
While many sandwiches have disputed origin legends – rife with competing claims and foggy backstories – it seems that most Philadelphians agree Pat Olivieri created our style of steak sandwich in the early 1930s. It is true, perhaps, that combining steak and onion in the same dish, as Pat did for his first steak, was not exactly a groundbreaking ingredient pairing, but it was nonetheless Pat’s particular spin that kickstarted this regional icon.
(When asked if he’s ever heard an alternative version of the steak origin story, Ken Silver – the current owner of Jim’s Steaks on South Street, another institution in the city – said, somewhat cagily, “No. And even if I had, I probably wouldn’t tell you.”)
Though the specific details seem to change every time it’s told, the basics of this tale remain the same. “Hot dogs and pork, that’s all I see, and all I eat. For once, I’m going to live a little,” Pat told the Inquirer in 1951, of his inspiration day. “Here,” Pat recalled saying, flipping a coin to his brother Harry, “go over to the butcher shop and get me a hunk of steak.” Pat then grilled the steak with some onions on the flat top and put it between two slices of bread.
“Whatcha got there,” a man approaching the stand asked.
“I guess you’d call it a steak sandwich,” Pat said he replied. “Never made one before.”
“Looks good,” said the man. “Gimme one.”
“You got this one,” Pat said. “I was gonna eat it myself, but the way business has been lately, I can’t quibble. Gimme a dime.”
One thing is certain: Pat’s original sandwich did not contain cheese. That innovation didn’t arrive until two decades later, when an employee at Pat’s Strawberry Mansion location named “Cocky” Joe Lorenzo thought to add some dairy. According to Pat’s son Herb Olivieri, on that fateful March 1951 day, Lorenzo was tired of eating steaks the same way every day, so he put some American cheese on the grill, which melted and mixed in with the beef. Pat, who was apparently watching all of this, simply said, “Joe, do that again.”
Special thanks to Mike Madaio, author of A History of Philadelphia Sandwiches, available now online or at most local bookstores.
