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Dueling Cheesesteaks

By Brooks A. Mick, M.D.
Oct. 20, 2006

The Olivieri cousins are dueling. A family feud. Not with assault rifles or pistols, however, nor even with axe handles, but they are fighting. They are dueling with lawyers at 20 paces. The problem is that both lay claim to the family tradition of frying up Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. They have restaurants located near one another in, of course, Philadelphia.

Pat Olivieri is recognized as the inventor of the Philly cheesesteak. Hot dog stands were common in Philadelphia in the 1930's, and Mr. Olivieri ran a hot dog stand. He was puttering around one day at lunchtime and made himself a sandwich of some finely sliced beef and onions and put it on a crusty roll and--voila!--the Philly cheesesteak was born. The cheese was added to the recipe later. Some use plain CheeseWiz, though provolone is also classic. Philadelphians laughed behind John Kerry's back when Kerry asked for Swiss cheese on his. He also exhibited great incompetence at eating his cheesesteak. Perhaps it cost him the election.

But I digress. I don't care how the feud of the Olivieri cousins come out. They are both descendants of the Great One, Pat Olivieri, and I would suggest they just get together, share the family heritage, and shake hands.

This piece is to give homage to the forgotten man, the man who invented the peppery red sauce which is a stable of true Philly cheesesteak restaurants. As the Philly cheesesteak has diasporized beyond Philadelphia, up and down the East Coast, and even spreading out across America, many places which serve it have no clue that one should douse it with a spicy hot sauce. Those who do offer hot sauce often use the vulgar Texas Pete's. Some go with Tabasco, not a completely inadequate substitute.

The Silver Diner chain has a quite decent approximation of a good Philly sauce. It is a bit thin, vinegary, spicy, red, and just hot enough. Another local restaurant, long out of business, used to serve a sauce they called "Mr. Belvedere's Sauce," though no one at the restaurant could remember Mr. Belvedere or how he came to make his sauce. Apparently he was a long-gone employee.

If inclined, you could make a reasonable approximation of a true Philly cheesesteak sauce by taking an ounce or two of vinegar, adding a teaspoon of catsup, a half tsp of Tabasco sauce, and a few grains of garlic powder and shaking up vigorously. But I'm digressing again.

I write here to honor Mr. Preletz, the inventor of the first Philly cheesesteak sauce. He is not to be found by googling, however. Apparently his name has faded into obscurity. I learned about him years ago when I was a medical resident, fresh back from Vietnam. The chief surgical resident was Rudy Preletz, and he was expounding one day upon his father's invention of the red sauce for cheesesteak sandwiches.

Here's to you, Mr. Preletz, wherever you are. You took a great sandwich and made it better. You contributed much to Philadelphia's only contribution to haute cuisine, the Philly cheesesteak sandwich.

Cut out the feuding, Olivieris. You're a part of history here. Act dignified. Call off the lawyers and settle it like gentlemen.

http://www.wtopnews.com/?sid=947935&nid=104

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About the author Brooks A. Mick: Physician, still practicing medicine but retired from the US Army. Write just for the fun of it, but working on novel in the vein of Tom Clancy's politico-military genre.

Email: brooks15@cox.net


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