I have a craving. No, I’m not pregnant! For the past week I’ve harbored the craving for a Philly Cheesesteak. For those of you who don’t know, I spent eight years growing up near Philadelphia. Occasionally my pronunciations of words such as water (”wooder”)exposes my east coast upbringing.
It’s been fifteen years since I’ve called Abington home. About every five years my mouth waters for that meaty, cheesy, greasy goodness on a roll which is otherwise known as a Philly Cheesesteak. Unfortunately for me, I’m the only member of the family who gets these crazy cravings. My husband is from Indiana. I don’t expect him to understand.
I’ve been pleased to locate “authentic” Philly Cheesesteaks in almost every town where we have lived. I’m now on a personal quest to find the best Philly Cheesesteak in San Diego. Google has been kind enough to supply me with several promising leads. This may be my yummiest research project ever.
The ingredients for an authentic Philly Cheesesteak shop include: