I traveled from NYC to Philadelphia in October, and when I arrived in Philly I stopped in for a famous cheese steak at Cleaver’s in Center City. It was fantastic. It was an explosion of meat and gooey cheese upon the pallet. I ate sitting opposite a photo on the wall of a butcher, with a meat cleaver on his shoulder and a caption that said “fresh beef, no bull.” He had a handlebar mustache. And his eyes were staring at me like he knew something that I didn’t. This place was all about The Beast, and Philadelphia is all about the beef and no bull. It’s a serious no bulshit town, they don’t fuck around here.
There was also a wall with a Welcome to Philly sign painted on it, and a huge photo of a cow, and “The Birthplace of The Cheesesteak” was written on the cow. Each section of the cow, depending on which type of meat it was, had a Philadelphia icon or attraction written on it. There was “We the Hungry” on the cows hindquarter, with an American flag attached, and “Land of the Free Home of the Hoagie” on the cow’s front shoulder, and “Our Hero” for a Rocky Balboa picture in the cow’s midsection, that kind of stuff. Also “Northern Liberty” on the cow’s hind leg.
One napkin dispenser said “Our Hero”, and the other said “Birthplace of the Cheesesteak,” and above the garbage bin it said “Chuck It Here.” Kitschy maybe, but pretty damn cool. And in a corner of the second floor area where I was sitting, there was an artist’s sketch of two cows from the shoulders up, one white, and one brown, perhaps representing black and white people in Philadelphia, perhaps not. But the two cows were majestic, all-knowing, and wistful. They were just fantastic beings, is what they were.
Even in the bathroom they had an incredible painting of a cow on the wall, with a red background, and multicolored body. It looked kind of impressionist perhaps or something along those lines, but it was beautiful, it was a cow, and it was what Cleaver’s is all about. Cheesesteaks. Yep. That’s what they do here.
The meat was tender and cut into small strands. I would guess there was over a pound of meat on the sandwich easily. The fried onions were a nice touch, but what really made the sandwich was the cheese whiz. Gooey, melty, oozy, sweet and salty at the same time, rich, creamy, absolutely freaking delicious. Every bite of steak covered in cheese whiz was an absolute heavenly moment. And whenever I got a bite of steak without cheese or if there was not much cheese, I felt like I was losing something, like I was lost, that something was wrong, something wasn’t right, and it just wasn’t appealing. The cheese whiz really brought out the flavor of the meat, and the two of them blended seamlessly together in a pairing that was both primal and delicate at the same time.
After I finished the first half of the sandwich, I was already pretty full, and I had had enough for a meal right there. But another half sandwich awaited, and I couldn’t stop now, because if you come all the way to Philadelphia, you gotta eat a whole Cheesesteak. You just gotta do what you have to do, you gotta do justice to the brilliance of the product you’re eating. So I ate the second half, and I ate all the meat and cheese that had fallen onto the sides and into the bottom of the plate. And I scooped all that up and popped it in my mouth. It was probably a quarter pound of meat that had fallen off that I just ate plain, and the parts with cheese whiz were incredible, and the parts that didn’t have cheese just weren’t as worthy. I haven’t had cheese whiz much in my life, maybe a few times, and I never thought much about it. But now I have a whole new understanding of my relationship to cheese whiz. It’s incredible, it made the cheesesteak into a transformative experience. Maybe I’ll try cheese whiz on my broccoli or cheese whiz on my turkey sandwich or cheese whiz on whatever. It was just that good in this Philly cheesesteak, just that freaking good. For about ten minutes after I ate, I sat at the table in Cleaver’s, staring up at the ceiling in a state of post-cheesesteak bliss. I felt a little drunk, a little busy, and extremely extremely full, like someone had put a beer keg inside my stomach. But it was a good feeling, a great feeling actually.
And I told myself to make sure that the next time I came to Philadelphia, I would get a Cheesesteak at Cleaver’s with cheese whiz. Because you can choose from six or seven kinds of cheese, they have american cheese, provolone cheese, etc, etc. And originally I had asked the waitress what was the best, and she said that she liked american. But at the last moment I asked her what about cheese whiz, do people like that? And she said a lot of people like it actually, do you want that? And I said yeah.
So I was saved by my intuition there, because I just don’t think that american cheese would have cut it in the same way. I just don’t think it could have performed the magic that cheez whiz did on the meat, the bread, the onions, and the whole concoction. So, cheesesteak with cheese whiz, fare thee well, and continue pleasing diners all throughout the Philadelphia area. I know you pleased me.
