Making good on the promise...

Compliments of Philly tour guides Jeff and Meg (And their trusty, drooling mascot, James), we experienced the euphoria of a true Philly cheesesteak sandwich.




Now, it's not just like you go to a restaurant and sit down and order one. There's a distinct formula to ordering a cheesesteak.

And if you're not prepared to order at Jim's, you might as well leave now and save yourself the ridicule of the four ginormous spatula-weilding black guys behind the counter.

Luckily, we were properly trained and the line was long enough for us to practice before we got to the counter (it ran out the door and around the corner of the building. The place is THAT good). As we approached the guy chopping up all of the meat and onions, we quizzed ourselves on the right way to order a cheesesteak.

As Jeff and Meg said, you don't get up there and be like, "Uh, I'd like a sandwich. I mean a steak sandwich, and, uh, cheese. Um, what kind of cheese do you have again? Uh. ..."

These people mean business. And plus, their Eastern. That translates to: impatient, pushy, direct and fast-talking. They don't have time for us slow-talking, slow-walking Western people who are here for the joie de vivre.

"WHADDAYA WANT???!" Is the bottom line. And here's the way to order a Philly cheesesteak with Cheese Whiz and onions.

"I wanna steak wit' whiz an' onions," and you'd better not mumble because if they have to ask you twice, you're probably going to be laughed out the door. And yeah, they really say, "Wit." These people don't even have time for an "h" on their "with."

Yes, we ate at the cheesesteak Nazi's place. This place was so cool, there were celebrities' photos plastered all over the walls. Even John Denver wrote on his photograph, "I'd be a vegetarian if it wasn't for your cheesesteaks."

Now that's a testimonial.