The Classic Dishes That Define Delco

Jerry’s Roastbeef and More / Illustration by Keith Warren Greiman

In celebration of Delco restaurants and the people who make them great, we are declaring this Delco Eats Week. Check back daily for stories from the sprawling print feature on the county’s food scene in the October issue of Philly Mag.

The best meals aren’t always the ones you find in fancy restaurants, where sleek branding and high-concept tasting menus attract social media buzz. Sometimes they’re tucked away in a dive bar kitchen, past discount socks and airbrush art in a farmers’ market, or in a dining room where the hoi polloi congregate for a delightfully greasy lunch.

In Delco, the best dishes aren’t trends. They’re traditions. They’re culinary folklore. They’re long-standing edible monuments that capture the no-frills brilliance of the county’s unpretentious soul. So roll up your sleeves, put your elbows on the table, and take a bite out of these local legends.

Jerry’s Roastbeef and More

For me, the best side of Delco is the side that money hasn’t found yet. I can understand, on a conceptual level, the lure of new stone-front shopping centers and Audi dealerships on Wilmington Pike, but give me the comic books, discount socks, and custom airbrush art at Booths Corner any day. Technically, the place is a farmers market, and tucked into one nondescript corner — three turns back from the arcade and across from the Nashville hot chicken stand — is Jerry’s Roastbeef and More. The place isn’t much more than a counter, a table, and a guy with a carving knife. But Jerry’s is where you’ll find one of the best roast beef sandwiches anywhere in the region. The rolls are fresh and soft, the beef is hand-carved right in front of you, the jus is as dark as black coffee, and all it requires by way of condiments is a smear of horseradish to remind you how completely satisfying the simplest of sandwiches can be. — Jason Sheehan

The Roast Pork Sandwich at Tony’s Tavern

Illustration by Keith Warren Greiman

You think getting a cheesesteak at Angelo’s is difficult, something requiring a Herculean amount of patience? Try getting the roast pork sandwich at Tony’s Tavern, a Collingdale dive bar. Succulent is one of those overused words, but it’s perfectly apt for the garlicky, salty, positively packed number on a Liscio’s roll that comes out of Tony’s small kitchen, only on Thursdays. The only problem? It’s basically impossible to get. We gave Tony’s roast pork a Best of Philly 10 years ago, and the regulars and owner were none too happy about it, we’re told, so much so that we were asked not to write this very article, and when one of our staffers asked a question about it recently in a Delco restaurant group online, a Collingdale resident chided him for even bringing it up, adding, “You’re not even FROM Collingdale.” (Ah, Delco.) We showed up twice recently trying to get a roast pork — as early as 11 a.m. — and were told the same thing both times: “Sorry, we’re sold out,” even though other patrons were clearly being served. Our advice: Make friends with a Tony’s regular and get them to take you. — Victor Fiorillo

Romano’s Stromboli

Illustration by Keith Warren Greiman

I skipped breakfast for this — to sit in a green booth in front of a big-screen TV playing Ocean’s Thirteen in a dining room filled with police officers and EMTs waiting for their lunch just so I could eat a stromboli at Romano’s, the place where it was born. And when this forearm-length behemoth of Delco decadence came to the table, I realized that every stromboli I’ve ever had — ever loved — was greatly flawed. The stromboli I’m used to is rolled up like a pinwheel with alternating layers of pizza dough and cheese with your choice of meats and vegetables. But its spiraled construction limits how much you can stuff inside, and depending on the dough’s proofing, the interior can be too bready or have a soggy gum line all throughout. Romano’s “original” pepperoni stromboli, however, is sheer suburban opulence. It is a massive dinner roll — no bread filler — dense with spicy pepperoni, Italian sausage, ham, and capicola, oozing with melted American cheese. Those who came after Romano’s have tried to improve on the original, and all have fallen short. There’s no point in trying to improve upon perfection. — Kae Lani Palmisano