Best of Philly 2005: Cheesesteak Nation

Day 2
Yankton, South Dakota
One would not think South Dakota would be at the center of a white-hot cheesesteak controversy. One would be wrong. Blame it on that paragon of journalistic integrity, Maxim. Last year, its editors listed what they claimed to be the 10 best sandwiches in America. Among the winners was the Steak & Cheese sandwich from Muggsy’s Sub Galley in Yankton, theretofore best known as Tom Brokaw’s hometown. The award in and of itself was not the problem. No, the problem was Maxim’s rationale for giving Muggsy’s the title: “How do you get Pat and Geno of Philly to shut up about who makes the best cheesesteaks?” the magazine posited. “Shove a Muggsy’s in their greasy Italian maws.”

Clearly, these people are idiots.

Could a sandwich from Sticksville really put a Philly cheesesteak to shame? (The question of whether Pat and Geno actually make great cheesesteaks is best left to someone else, like Richard Rys: 215-656-3526.) But Maxim’s hypothesis clearly needs some scientific scrutiny. Muggsy’s, it should be noted, is not shy about touting the accolades that have come its way. Outside the restaurant, a giant sign announces Maxim’s verdict; inside, you can’t swing a dead jackalope without hitting some reference to the article (and I suspect some have tried). Other than that, however, Muggsy’s doesn’t put on a lot of airs: It’s got wood paneling, Naugahyde tablecloths, gray carpeting. A television in one corner is blasting Back to the Future. Two girls, so young and fresh-faced they are apparently on loan from the local daycare, are behind the counter.

One refreshing thing about Muggsy’s: It makes no claims to some romanticized sense of Philly authenticity. No obsession about Amoroso’s rolls, no references to shared heritage with Pat’s, Geno’s or Jim’s. Muggsy’s is simply trying to make a good, perhaps great, steak sandwich. And as I order my sandwich from the daycare twins, I wonder if that’s why this, among all the sandwich places in this country, has been singled out. It’s been liberated from having to be a facsimile of some sandwich the owner once had in South Philly. It can simply be good.
There is only one problem with this thesis. Muggsy’s Steak & Cheese Sandwich isn’t all that good. While the meat—sirloin instead of rib eye — is flavorful, there isn’t enough of it. Besides that, the bread is stale, and the cheese isn’t melted. Philly has nothing to fear. The readers of Maxim, however, should consider themselves warned.