
Exterior of Philly's Best. Usually located in outdoor strip malls, my brother and I discovered what I think was the original location, in Irvine.

Interior of Philly's Best. Half 50's style diner, half sports memorabilia museum, the restaurant's walls are covered with jerseys from Philadelphia Eagles, 76ers, and Phillie's players, along with photos of long-time happy customers.

I believe the key too what makes these sandwiches authentically Philadelphia, as well as down-right addicting, is the freshness of the rolls. Philly's Best uses Amoroso Rolls, direct from Philadelphia.

I'm a huge sports fan, and I have a lot of respect for a city with such a rich sports history, but I have to say their fans aren't high on my list. This is the town that booed Santa Claus at a Christmas parade one year, and cheered when Michael Irvin of the Cowboys broke his leg during an Eagle's game. OK, maybe I was happy a little inside too, since I despised both Irvin and the Cowboys at the time, but at least I didn't cheer . . . . well, not out loud anyway.

The waiting is the hardest part. Since everything at Philly's Best is made to order, nothing's started until you order it. So if you're hungry when you get there, it's downright painful to wait as you smell nothing but cooked beef and cheese, and some really crispy fries. This is the Philly's Best sandwich, which comes with provolone, grilled onions, mushrooms, and peppers.

The sandwich is so soft and warm, I want to just bury my face into it, like a warm pillow. But that would burn like crazy, so I do my best to resist that urge and just eat.

If you like to eat lunch while a bigger-than-life sized image of Allen Iverson hovers above you, well then this is the place. He may have been the answer, but for some reason I forgot the question. Oh yes, I remember it now. "Who finally made it to the NBA Finals just to be dominated by the Lakers in 5 games?"
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