
Those luscious slabs of paper-thin rib-eye perfectly grilled with ribbons of onions, all slathered with a sauce whose orangish-yellow color appeared in no naturally prepared product, so it earned the moniker of cheez instead of that of its haughty brethren. The cheez spread across the beef and onions, all their juices co-mingling into a sauce that made my taste buds water. It should be a sin to consume such a sandwich. Hell, it probably was a sin, but for the classic Philly Cheese steak, I was a full-blown sinner.