Service Station Food - Metro Petroleum Tempe
Like any standout sandwich, a good Philly Cheesesteak hinges on the bread. And like any respected food story, it starts with immigrants trying to make a living. Southern Italians working at a shipyard in early 20th century America can be credited with the birth of the hoagie - the traditional cradle of choice for this Philadelphia culinary icon. A vessel perfect for the grunt work that was occurring on Hog Island, the bread is classically Italian. It’s a hard-crusted loaf with fluffiness that is able to hold shape no matter what meat cuts, sauces, or pickle juices are scraped inside. With the second largest Italian-American population in the States, Philadelphia can thank its azzurri lineage for the roll which indeed makes the Philly Cheesesteak what it is.
Philly Up does you a solid by using great bread, imagine a delectable ciabatta. The exterior is sturdy and stubborn, the interior is accommodating - dense and soft, the Rocky Balboa of rolls. This results in a product that arrests any heavy flows of meat and cheese contained within. Not penetrating the seams, it stays entombed, you can continue on in your Sunday best with no need for a costume change.
Just how its neighbours’ hapless New York Knicks so often do, Philly Up gives an inspiring first half performance. The yellow sauce, aka cheese, was piping hot and full of flavour, pleasing the 'low-brow' food receptors just as a meat lovers pizza does with BBQ sauce. The cheese, splashed over the well-seasoned beef, played deep D on the bread, averting the possibility of a cheese moustache - the worst kind. There might have been only two or three cursory cuts of green and red capsicum, but they were super-subs, jumping into the game to serve their purpose. Injecting zip and sweet spice, the caps ensured that the star players didn’t fatigue or bore the crowd.
After the first half, there was a marked decline in lashings of the viscous Cheez Whiz, evoking pains similar to a bánh mì's chilli distribution woes. The second half lacked spark with less cheese, the meal almost fading into snack-pack shaved meat territory. Nonetheless, the opening two quarters were packed with sufficient highlight reels.
One of the few acceptable usages of the American abomination that is Cheez Whiz, Philly Up handles Kraft’s science experiment with discretion and doesn't allow it to engulf the onions, capsicums, or beef. The onions are sautéd justly and provide a welcome textural accessory to the otherwise chewy and chompy bites of the sandwich. If you were to name the match's weakest player, it might've been the steak. Unfortunately it gave the less desirable impression of being pre-cooked and reheated again for serving. The steak developing that hard, drier outer shell. The seasoning did help however, and was adequately restrained with no Matty Matheson-sized fist of salt covering as had been the expectation.
If you yearn for a taste of a cheesesteak in Sydney, give Philly Up a try as you fill up, before continuing on your Princes Highway journey.
Ibis Tip: Not wanting a floppy IKEA hot dog? Hop, skip and jump across the road for a real sandwich of satisfying proportions.
Ibis Tip: The mac ‘n’ cheese was as average as all other mac ‘n’ cheeses served in Sydney. Underwhelming at best, but the lower sodium content will definitely be endorsed by your GP.
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