Ultimate Battle Of The Cheesesteaks: 7 Were Disappointing But These 7 Were Absolute Standouts

As a proud Philly native with a serious love for the city’s most legendary sandwich, I set out on a delicious mission to track down the ultimate cheesesteak.
Equipped with stretchy pants, a hungry stomach, and a notepad, I took on 14 of the most hyped spots around town. What I found was a wild ride of cheesy highs and soggy lows—some sandwiches were pure perfection, while others had me scratching my head in disbelief.
From melt-in-your-mouth meat to rubbery letdowns, this is my honest, no-filter take on the best (and worst) cheesesteaks Philadelphia has to offer.
1. Geno’s Steaks: All Hype, No Flavor

Tourist trap alert! My wallet still hasn’t forgiven me for the $13 mediocrity between bread that Geno’s served up. The meat was sliced paper-thin but somehow managed to be tougher than my high school math finals.
The cheese barely melted, clinging desperately to the outside of the sandwich like it was afraid to mingle with the bland meat. And don’t get me started on the roll – it disintegrated faster than my diet plans.
Sure, the neon lights make for a great Instagram post, but your taste buds will be filing complaints. Save your money and your appetite for somewhere that respects the art of cheesesteak making.
2. Pat’s King of Steaks: The Fallen Monarch

Royalty? More like a peasant in fancy clothes. Pat’s might have history on its side, but history doesn’t make a good sandwich. The assembly-line service had me feeling like I was at the DMV rather than a legendary food establishment.
My cheesesteak arrived lukewarm, with a meat-to-bread ratio that favored the carbs way too heavily. The chopped steak had about as much flavor as cardboard, and the Cheez Whiz (yes, I went traditional) couldn’t save the day.
For a place that claims to have invented the cheesesteak, they seem to have forgotten their own recipe. The king has been dethroned in my book.
3. Jim’s South Street: Riding on Reputation

The line outside Jim’s nearly convinced me I was in for a treat. Spoiler alert: the wait was the best part of the experience. Once inside, the chaotic ordering system had me flustered before I’d even glimpsed a spatula.
My cheesesteak emerged from behind the counter looking promising but delivered a symphony of disappointments. The meat was overcooked to the point of crunchiness in some spots, while the provolone had barely begun to melt.
The bread – oh, the bread! It was simultaneously soggy on the bottom and tough on top, a culinary paradox I didn’t know was possible. Jim’s might have been great once, but that greatness has left the building.
4. Steve’s Prince of Steaks: A Royal Disappointment

Steve may call himself a prince, but there’s nothing majestic about this sandwich. My first bite revealed meat that had been chopped into oblivion – it was more like steak dust than actual pieces of beef. Where’s the texture, Steve?
The American cheese was applied with such stinginess that I had to double-check it was actually there. And the roll? Stale enough that I worried about cracking a tooth. The worst offense was the complete lack of seasoning – even salt and pepper seemed to be royal luxuries.
Customers around me nodded in appreciation, making me wonder if we’d ordered the same thing or if Stockholm syndrome had set in from waiting in line.
5. Tony Luke’s: Trading Quality for Quantity

What happened, Tony? Your cheesesteak used to be the stuff of legends, but my recent visit left me questioning everything I thought I knew about sandwiches. The portion size was impressive – I’ll give you that – but bigger isn’t always better.
The meat was oddly sweet, as if marinated in something that had no business being near a cheesesteak. My American cheese choice came half-melted and unevenly distributed, creating a dairy desert on one end and a cheese flood on the other.
The roll had potential but couldn’t stand up to the greasy onslaught. By mid-sandwich, I was basically eating a soggy meat salad with my hands. Not the dignified lunch experience I was hoping for.
6. Campo’s Deli: The Tourist Trap Tragedy

Located in the heart of tourist territory, Campo’s has mastered the art of the mediocre sandwich at premium prices. My wallet wept as I handed over $15 for what turned out to be the cheesesteak equivalent of a bad blind date – looks decent online but disappointing in person.
The meat was sparse and suspiciously uniform, making me wonder if it had ever seen the inside of a cow. Their “special sauce” tasted like watered-down mayo with a hint of sadness, and the promised caramelized onions were barely cooked.
Even the roll, which should be the easiest part to get right in a city known for its bread, was neither here nor there – not fresh, not stale, just… present. Skip this one unless you enjoy regret.
7. Chubby’s Steaks: The Greasy Letdown

Chubby’s? More like Grubby’s. This Roxborough spot talks a big game about their 50+ years of history, but longevity doesn’t equal quality. My sandwich arrived wrapped in enough paper to publish a small newspaper, possibly to absorb the alarming amount of grease.
Unwrapping revealed a sad sight: gray meat swimming in oil with cheese that had separated into a weird, plasticky layer. The first bite confirmed my visual assessment – all I tasted was salt and regret. Even the onions seemed to have given up on life.
The only thing “chubby” about this experience was how bloated I felt afterward from all that grease. Some traditions are better left in the past, and this cheesesteak might be one of them.
8. John’s Roast Pork: Cheesesteak Perfection

Holy mother of sandwiches! Despite the name suggesting pork prowess, John’s serves up a cheesesteak that made me want to write poetry. The meat was a revelation – tender ribeye with just the right amount of chop, maintaining its beefy integrity while melding perfectly with the sharp provolone.
The seeded roll deserves its own fan club – somehow both crusty and soft, with structural integrity that contained the juicy goodness without getting soggy. Their grilled onions achieved that magical sweet spot of caramelization without crossing into burnt territory.
I practically inhaled this masterpiece, then seriously contemplated ordering a second. John’s doesn’t need flashy signs or tourist lines – the sandwich speaks for itself in a language of pure deliciousness.
9. Dalessandro’s Steaks: Chopped Beef Nirvana

Forget what you know about cheesesteaks – Dalessandro’s rewrites the rules with their finely-chopped approach. My first bite triggered an involuntary happy dance that amused (or disturbed) fellow customers. The meat achieves a magical texture – somewhere between traditional steak and the world’s most luxurious ground beef.
The cheese (American, in my case) melts completely into the meat mountain, creating a gooey, savory masterpiece that coats every morsel. Their generous handful of fried onions adds sweetness and texture without overwhelming the star attractions.
Located in Roxborough away from the tourist circus, Dalessandro’s keeps it real with reasonable prices and zero pretension. The line moves quickly, the staff banters with regulars, and the sandwich will haunt your dreams in the best possible way.
10. Ishkabibble’s: The Whiz Kid Champion

Tucked away on South Street, Ishkabibble’s tiny storefront belies the giant flavors within. Their cheesesteak (with Whiz, naturally) restored my faith in humanity after several disappointing experiences. The beef was sliced thin but retained its juiciness and robust flavor – clearly quality meat that hadn’t been frozen since the Nixon administration.
The Cheez Whiz application was nothing short of artistic – a golden river cascading through valleys of meat and perfectly grilled onions. Unlike other spots where the Whiz congeals into a weird paste, here it maintained its creamy texture throughout the eating experience.
Their roll struck the perfect balance between chew and yield, creating that satisfying bite that makes you close your eyes in appreciation. Bonus points for their Spanish fries – the ideal sidekick to this cheese-drenched masterpiece.
11. Philip’s Steaks: The Hidden Gem

Skip the tourist traps and head to South Philly where Philip’s Steaks crafts sandwich magic without the fanfare. My “Old Fashioned” with provolone arrived wrapped in paper that barely contained its magnificence. Unwrapping it felt like Christmas morning – if Santa delivered beef and cheese instead of toys.
The meat was a revelation: thinly sliced ribeye with crispy edges and tender centers, seasoned to perfection. Provolone melted completely into the crevices, creating pockets of cheesy bliss with every bite. The roll (sourced from Sarcone’s Bakery) provided the perfect vehicle – crusty exterior giving way to a pillowy inside.
Open late into the night, Philip’s understands that cheesesteak cravings don’t follow a schedule. Their no-nonsense approach focuses entirely on sandwich quality rather than Instagram aesthetics.
12. Joe’s Steaks + Soda Shop: Retro Deliciousness

Formerly known by a less politically correct name, Joe’s has evolved with the times while keeping their cheesesteak game firmly in the extraordinary category. The Northeast Philly institution serves up a sandwich that made me contemplate moving to the neighborhood just for proximity purposes.
Their cheesesteak achieves the holy trinity of perfect meat (tender, flavorful ribeye), ideal cheese distribution (I went with provolone that melted into every nook), and roll excellence (slightly crisp outside, soft inside). The addition of hot cherry peppers gave it a zingy kick that elevated the entire experience.
The retro soda fountain atmosphere adds to the charm – sipping a black cherry soda between bites of cheesesteak transported me to a simpler time when calories didn’t exist and joy was measured in sandwich form.
13. Woodrow’s Sandwich Shop: Gourmet Twist on Tradition

Purists might scoff at Woodrow’s upscale approach, but one bite of their Wiz Wit transformed me from skeptic to evangelist. Using local grass-fed beef sliced paper-thin, they’ve elevated the humble cheesesteak without sacrificing its soul. The homemade cherry pepper mayo adds a tangy complexity that dances beautifully with the traditional Whiz.
Their truffle whiz option initially struck me as pretentious, but curiosity won out on my second visit. The earthy truffle notes complemented the beef in ways I never imagined possible. Even the roll is special – slightly smaller than traditional versions but with a perfect crust-to-fluff ratio.
Located in South Philly away from the tourist circuit, Woodrow’s represents cheesesteak evolution rather than revolution. They respect tradition while gently pushing boundaries, creating something both familiar and exciting.
14. Angelo’s Pizzeria: The Unexpected Champion

Plot twist: one of Philly’s best cheesesteaks comes from a pizza joint! Angelo’s limited hours and cash-only policy create an air of exclusivity that’s actually justified by the sandwich quality. Their seeded rolls from Sarcone’s Bakery arrive still warm from the oven – a game-changing foundation for cheesesteak greatness.
The ribeye is hand-sliced daily, resulting in thicker, meatier pieces that retain their juiciness on the grill. Cooper sharp cheese (my choice) melted perfectly into the crevices, creating a harmonious blend where neither component overpowered the other. The caramelized onions added sweetness that balanced the rich meat and cheese.
Owner Danny DiGiampietro works the grill himself most days, treating each sandwich like a personal masterpiece. His attention to detail and ingredient quality transforms a simple sandwich into a transcendent experience.