Welcome back, old friend
Philly’s Best returns true cheesesteak happiness to Pasadena
By Erica Wayne 04/22/2010
Most people think of Philadelphia as “the City of Brotherly Love.” My husband and I, on the other hand, think of it as the city of Tastykakes. For those who hail from somewhere other than the mid-Atlantic, the word Tastykake means nothing. For my family, it signifies the best mass-produced finale to a bag lunch that’s ever been baked. Tastykakes in all their guises (Krimpets, cupcakes, Tandytakes and fruit pies) put Twinkies to shame. Getting through a bologna sandwich in the third grade was far more bearable knowing that a package of Tastykakes would be my reward.
After migrating to California in 1978, I made do without Tastykakes (and without bologna sandwiches, if truth be told) for years. Although widely distributed in the East, Tastykakes didn’t make it to our local markets until well into this decade. And it was only when I made pilgrimages to my birth city, Baltimore, that I got to gorge on the regional excesses of my childhood, of which Tastykakes were uppermost.
Back in 1997, I discovered the first local source of Tastykakes. The Philadelphia Connection, a storefront in a mini-mall on South Arroyo Parkway advertising itself as a purveyor of authentic Philadelphia cheesesteak sandwiches and hoagies, also did a booming business in Tastykakes.
And not only did they have the most popular Tastykake — triplet chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting, but also butterscotch Krimpets (a trio of conjoined sponge cake fingers topped with tan icing) and Tandytakes (peanut butter-laced, chocolate-coated sponge cake rounds). They only cost $1 a package and tasted just like they did when I was 10 — too sweet, too rich and totally satisfying. The sole difference was in the labeling. Tandytakes are now called Kandykakes. So who cares?
We ordered a cheesesteak and a hoagie and found that it wasn’t just the Tastykakes that were nostalgia-producing. The hoagie ($6.95) was a fully packed, traditional submarine sandwich, complete with oregano and oil and vinegar on the bread. And what bread! Unlike the abominable, soggy, disintegrating stuff wrapped around so many sub-shop fillings, these rolls were substantial, with real texture and flavor. Condiments included hot red pepper flakes, without which no true sub could be called complete, and hot cherry peppers.
The cheesesteak, dripping with gooey, creamy, melted white American cheese and sweet, grilled onions that would be called “caramelized” in a trendier restaurant, was perfect. Thin slices of “frizzled” rib-eye steak, tender and moist (but not rare), formed the heart of the sandwich, piled onto the same wonderful bread (Amoroso — imported from Philly) as the hoagies. An 11-incher (the same size as our sub) cost $5.95.
But we were worried. How could a place that basically sold three sandwiches (well, actually, when we read the menu thoroughly, we found 10, if you count all the variants of meat and cheese and bread) stay in business? Were there enough Pasadenans with a hankering for cheesesteak and hoagies to make The Philadelphia Connection a success and, more importantly, keep us in Tastykakes?
We pondered the question as we polished off Krimpets, cupcakes and Kandykakes and, finally, a pack of peanut chews (molasses-flavored, peanut-studded toffee coated with dark chocolate) just like we used to get in the movies, and just like my mother used to get in the movies before I was born. We chewed on the candy and wondered if enough folks would recognize the quality of the bread, the authenticity of the preparation, the enthusiasm of the owner for his birthplace.
Our concerns were well-founded. Despite amazing popularity, within two or three years the owner had folded his tent and disappeared. Fredo’s Phillys took its place for an abbreviated lifespan of less than three years, but for a lot of that time, folks complained that the food was getting worse. Meanwhile, our mid-Atlantic family despaired of ever finding true Pasadena cheesesteak happiness ever again.
But, hallelujah! Even though (or maybe because) it’s a chain, almost complete satisfaction can be had at the local Philly’s Best, a minimalist storefront in the Del Mar Gold Line Station. I ran in there on tax day (when we really needed comfort food) and ordered a cheesesteak ($5), a hoagie ($5.99), fries ($1.85), onion rings ($2.95) and two packages of Tastykakes ($1.50) to go. While I waited (a scant five minutes), I loaded up on free kosher dill slices and hot cherry peppers.
Well, readers, it did the trick. A blessed amnesia about our IRS bill overcame us as soon as we bit into the luscious, gooey, chewy sandwich on its I-can-take-it Amoroso roll.
The fries were special — golden brown, skins on with a perfect crisp. Onion rings were a disappointment — DON’T HAVE THEM WRAPPED. THEY LOSE THEIR CRUNCH! I bet they would have been lots better if we’d eaten them onsite. And, after several Tastykake-free years, I’m sorry to report that the butterscotch Krimpets just aren’t the same — they might as well be vanilla. On the other hand, the Kandykakes (aka Tandytakes) are every bit as good as they were when I was 8.
As for peanut chews, I’ve written to Philly’s Best corporate headquarters to suggest they stock them. After all, like cheesesteaks, they’ve been a Philly tradition for close to 100 years.
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