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columnist writes about lifelong love affair with cheese steaks Date published: 6/3/2009 By Kurt Rabin S UMMER'S RIGHT around the Not on the barbee, mind you, I mean the grill at the nearest sub shop. If there's one thing this Philly-area kid has always been passionate about, it's his cheese steaks. Some folks like their steaks thick and juicy; I like mine thin and flat and covered with Provolone cheese. I'm sure it dates back to the smells that emanated from our community pool's snack bar and grill. Our parents dug for pocket change so their kids could buy colored wax shaped into tiny bottles, or candy cigarettes and necklaces. Grilled items, however, remained the exclusive province of grown-ups. And the coveted cheese steak was the flagship of the sandwich line. For a child, snagging a poolside bite of one of those babies was like getting access to a forbidden world of unimagined luxury reserved only for adults. The cheese steak--along with the soft hot pretzel and the TastyKake cupcake--comprised for me the first triumvirate of Philadelphia haute cuisine. New England has its lobster roll, the South its barbecue, and the City of Brotherly Love its beloved cheese steak. (My apologies to that city's Italian hoagie lovers.) Made popular in South Philadelphia at places like Pat's King of Steaks and Geno's, the cheese steak is essentially Top it, like a Philadelphian, with some Heinz 57 and you're in business. On our weekend forays to center city Philadelphia, we Cherry Hill, N.J., teens would first stop at the nearest sub shop. Before shopping for penny loafers and Ban-Lon shirts, or the latest raunchy record album by Doug Clark and the Hot Nuts, we'd fortify ourselves by scarfing scrumptious cheese steaks. Today, I use a universal shortcut to reach that cheese steak sensation when the real deal isn't close at hand.
Date published: 6/3/2009
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