Whiz-dom

This look says it all.

WHERE ARE THEY!!??!  Although I'm not sure that it's so much a quizzical look as it is the look of a supreme carnivore that basks in its spot at the top of the food chain.

Either way, there are certain men you should never keep waiting.  There are certain foods for which you should never make people wait.  And then there are certain men in the presence of certain foods you should never keep waiting.  And this food escapade, cheesesteaks from Tony Luke's, most definitely falls into the latter category.  Sorry Sean and Carter.  We were dying.  With the hype, the smells, and the watching other people chow down on their cheesesteaks, a tiny part of us died inside. We started hyperventilating when we realized you had gone to grab everyone water.  The mixed emotions, the inner turmoil, as your act of kindness tore apart our souls (and stomachs) with conflict, were inexpressible.  We were at the point of breaking, eagerly awaiting and praying for your return, when finally, yes, you came.

This is what I've been looking forward to for the whole week.  Tony Luke's.  I've heard a lot about it, but had never been, til now.  I've now hit all the players: Pat's, Geno's, Jim's, and Tony Luke's.  Sad that it took me four years to finally get to all of them. 

I truly believe there's only one way to get a cheesesteak.  I don't mean to come across as an arrogant, stuck-up Philadelphian who makes you rehearse the precise slang, accent, hand gestures, and facial sneer that must accompany your approach to the check-out window as you place an order.  It's just that, in my belief (forget belief.  too weak a word.  let's go with hard, scientific, proven fact), a cheesesteak needs steak, duh, fried onions, and cheese whiz.  Provolone, eh, ok, fine.  American?  Never.

Why whiz?  Just try saying that five times fast, and you'll start saying "wise."  That's why.  Top your sandwich with this stuff and be filled with "whiz-dom."  Let's walk through why.

First off, here's where Tony Luke's completely dominates Jim's (I had Geno's and Pat's too long ago to compare).  Putting aside the fact that Tony Luke's gives you large, juicy slices of steak rather than the super, ultra, chopped-up shards than verge on looking and tasting like ground beef (which totally defeats the point of paying $8 for a sandwich) like they do at Jim's, Tony Luke's puts the cheese whiz on top of the steak rather than underneath like they do at Jim's.  Why's this important?

Because this gooey, completely processed, salty, yet inexplicably delicious concoction with an expiration date over 8 years in the future seeps through the crevices of the steak working its way down until every nook has been filled.  And then, whatever whiz does end up finding its way through the steak maze is soaked up by the bun creating a joyful medley of diverse flavors and textures.

At Jim's, the whiz and steak are relegated to their separate spheres with minimal intermingling making one mouthful primarily steak and the next cheese/bun.  The worst part, however, is that the bun absorbs all the whiz thereby weakening the hinge joint of the sandwich.  A sandwich with a weak hinge joint is a sandwich doomed to failure.  The seam pops, and out it falls...oh the humanity.

And whiz means it squirts out from the opposite end after each bite, also important.

Whiz through and through and soaked up by the bun.

But here's where the whiz droppings are important.  They pool, and then you set the cheesesteak right on top.  Whiz inside.  Whiz outside.  It's pure whiz-dom.

Making for a perfect soupy mess of a godbite.  I would've turned it up-side-down to show you the extant of quality soakage underneath, but I had forgotten my camera and was using Matt's (which he preemptively brought in case I forgot mine), and my fingers were already in a questionable enough state as it was to be using a camera.

Remember, whiz is good.  It's even worth licking your left over wrapper for.