Hey, let's make a goddamn cheesesteak. If we do it quickly, we can get finished before the city of Philadelphia declares war.
Everybody loves a cheesesteak. Maybe not the vegetarians so much. Everybody else loves a cheesesteak. The city of Philadelphia, having invented the thing and adopted it as its signature foodstuff, particularly loves the cheesesteak—nearly as much as it loves telling everybody else that their cheesesteaks suck. This municipal chauvinism is understandable, totally common (witness upstate New Yorkers asserting the unique greatness of their chicken wings, Marylanders and Pacific Northwesterners snobbing at each others' crabs, and Ohioans taking up truncheons in defense of their very horrible cheese-buried diarrhea pasta), and also kind of silly. It's a steak sandwich. There's nothing in it that can't be found or made damn near anywhere else in the United States, nor any particular culinary discipline or technique unique to Philadelphia that makes its cheesesteaks special. Philadelphians invented the thing, and for that we should all be grateful, because the cheesesteak is a goddamn marvel. On the other hand, if you want a great cheesesteak, you don't need to go to Philadelphia. You need to go to the grocery store. Your cheesesteak is gonna be amazing.