Philly's on Market St.

Nov. 17, 2006
By JOSEPH M. DELEON News-Post Staff
jdeleon@fredericknewspost.com

   FREDERICK— The smell of grilled onions and charred beef enticed passersby to visit Phillys Cheese Steak Factory, an underground eatery at the corner of East Church and North Market streets.

It was just before noon Thursday and I needed to grab a quick bite before my next interview — I allotted 45 minutes on the parking meter.

The stairs leading down to the restaurant might make guests feel as though they found one of Frederick's hidden treasures — narrow steps usher visitors past rustic stone deep below Church Street.

Once inside, a ticket counter sits on the right and an attractive brick and wood dining room to the left.

A bold menu showcases the offerings: cheesesteaks, subs, wings, soup or salad.

I was surprised to see instructions for ordering a cheesesteak, but after reading the history of the sandwich, it made sense.

Philadelphia Pat Olivieri is credited with inventing the cheesesteak in the 1930s, serving it in hot dog stands in South Philly. It was so popular, he opened a restaurant that still dishes it out — Pat's King of Steaks.

Cheesesteak connoisseurs insist the only appropriate cheese to use is Cheez Whiz, introduced in 1952. Olivieri promptly adopted it, instantly making the sandwich a national favorite.

When ordering, say "Whiz, with" for a steak sandwich that has Cheez Whiz with fried onions.

Being from south Texas, I had never heard of Cheez Whiz on a sandwich, but I figured if that's what Olivieri intended, I'd give it a shot.

The sandwich set me back about $6, plus $2 for fries and a buck for a can of soda.

I couldn't resist ordering a pound of hot wings to go for $7 — too much to finish at lunch, but the perfect pick-me-up for late-night assignments.

Cases of Bud, Miller and Coors lined the wall, but I had to resist because I was on duty.

The dining room is divided by a half wall that serves as a condiment station, crowded with jalapeños, banana peppers, vinegar and ketchup, among others.

Lacquered brick and varnished wood paneling give the eatery a homey, yet posh feel. Unfinished wood planks line the ceiling behind four massive stained and polished wooden beams.

Wood and metal furniture gives the room a modern airy feel. The main eating space is divided between high bar-style rectangular tables with stools and cozy cafe-style round tables.

Most of the guests were glued to a plasma screen TV on the back wall showing Comedy Central.

Behind the half wall, a few customers read pages from a newspaper hung from a braided metal cable against the wall — perfect for sticky hot wing fingers.

A huge vintage metal door, used in a previous life as a vault, led to the managers office.

Around the corner, a narrow passageway guides guests to the restroom. The white wood panel wall and brick-lined walkway gives clients the impression of walking down a tight alley way.

The staff delivered trays piled high with steaming chopped steak and fried potatoes, and my hunger grew. As I was lusting over a greasy heap of meat, cheese and bread at a nearby table, my order arrived.

A savory aroma almost made me drool as my mouth flooded with anticipation. My eyes started watering. Was it the promise of delicious satisfaction or just the strong onions? Who cares — it was time to eat.

The sandwich, which looked closer to a foot long than the advertised 9 inches, was served on a paper tray with pleated ends. It was flanked by a cardboard boat overflowing with deep brown, fresh-cut fries with skins on.

Every bite sent Whiz-covered meat tumbling to the plastic cafeteria-style tray. The meat was thin, greasy and delicious. I was amazed at how much flavor Cheez Whiz added to the mix.

Halfway through, the bun fell apart, but I pinched-up the lost meat with the remaining flaky bun.

These toasted, slightly oily Amoroso buns are also a Philly original — the same brand Olivieri used.

When the hot wings arrived, I couldn't keep from having a taste. Celery and blue cheese dressing are served on the side.

They come in three intensities: mild, hot, and inferno — I chose hot. Wings are also served with old bay seasoning or barbecue sauce.

Larger than usual, the crispy yet juicy wings and legs were slathered with a thick, spicy and slightly sweet sauce. It had just the right amount of kick, and the heavy sauce was enough to round off the meaty interior.

At the end of lunch, nearly a dozen greasy sauce-stained napkins, scraps of meat, chicken bones and spilled salt littered the tray and table. It was time to head back to work.

During chow time, I lost track of time. I hurried up to Church Street, hoping a parking ticket wasn't waiting on my windshield. I was surprised to find 10 minutes on the meter.

For a quick, filling lunch or a casual night of beer and wings, try Phillys Cheese Steak Factory.