Like the 5th Beatle, the 4th Beastie, or the 3rd man in, Philly steps up as the newest member of the Axis of Eatin'. Cheesesteak, the celebrated Philly staple, is available with extra echt, as Bruni details:
John’s is essentially a hut by the side of a busy road, and you can see the blue-and-yellow leviathan of an Ikea store rising not far away. There are no seats inside the hut: if you want to sit, you do so at a picnic table outside, or in your car. Above the hut rises John’s signature image: a pig with a checkered napkin around its neck.
and without:
As menu items wrapped in quotation marks often do, Degustation’s “cheesesteak” makes cheeky, Thomas Keller–esque reference to the real thing without ever running the risk of being mistaken for an actual hoagie. It comes on a single square of pain de mie slicked with olive oil and toasted on the plancha. Then it’s delicately layered from the bottom up with roasted tomato and red pepper, and a pile of thinly sliced rib eye that’s been cooked sous vide for two hours to a rosy pink rareness. Chef Wesley Genovart tops it with tiny onion rings and a chopped herb salad of parsley, dill, cilantro, chives, and chervil, and then he paints the plate not with Cheez Whiz but with a few dabs of a foamy raclette-ricotta emulsion.
I'd originally planned simply to condemn the drollery of the Degustation version as hurtling across the Spinal Tap frontier between clever and stupid, but what would be the point? The distance between these two sandwiches brought to mind a line from England, England, which has been a part of my day job recently. As the minions of a Murdochesque tycoon discuss producing a hyperreal version of England on the isle of Jersey, one of the consultants wonders, "Is not the very notion of the the authentic, somehow, in its own way, bogus?" He may have a point, when it comes to things like cheesesteak. If you have read this far, you probably avoid the Olive Garden and its ilk, but if the pursuit of the authentic, (a common small-c chowhound preoccupation), becomes an end in itself, it can come at the expense of good eating. I've had crappy BBQ at places that looked promising in terms of their remote location and decor; the Cubanos I get at the Montrose are better than the one I had at Versailles, despite the lack of Bay of Pigs Monday morning QBs in the 02138. I am not advocating a flight to the food court, but rather raising the possibility that there might be such a thing as too much authenticity.
Well observed that authenticity and quality aren't coincidental. Rather than take the bait on Cheesesteaks, I'll add, where food and origins are associated, adding a place-name to a dish almost always* signifies inauthenticity and poor quality. "Philly Cheese Steak", "New England Clam Chowder"**, "Bufflao Chicken", "Canadian Bacon", and "Cajun Blackened Anything" come to mind as items to watch out for, lie down and avoid.***
* The main exception to this rule is pork barbecue where non-indication of geography signifies an assumption that barbecue sauce tastes like a spicier version of ketchup.
** There is also "Manhattan Clam Chowder" and "Rhode Island Clam Chowder." And while the latter is generally authentic, it isn't ever great. The former is just an excuse for hiding old clams.
*** Hey! Professors aren't the only ones who can use footnotes!
Posted by: Rose's Lime | Thursday, 26 April 2007 at 02:03 PM
Agreed. Schultzy and I avoid any and all cheesesteaks presented with quotation marks or modifiers (unless they're of the "mushroom, wiz, wit'" variety), and pull a jersey over the heads of those who serve such scrapple.
Posted by: BK | Monday, 30 April 2007 at 12:32 PM
Good post, I like to leave comments because it allows bloggers to become more engaged and for the opportunity to perhaps learn from each other.
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