I originally set out to rank my top 10 cheesesteaks (or steak and cheeses) in Maryland. After eating well over 100 of them across the state, I figured narrowing it down to a simple top 10 would be easy.
As I got closer to finishing the list, I realized I had a handful that I thought were exceptional, another 20 or so that I’d happily recommend to anyone, about half of the sandwiches I’d gladly order again, and then the rest. Somewhere along the way, the project stopped being about ranking Maryland cheesesteaks and became something much bigger. I started asking myself a different question… How do Maryland’s very best cheesesteaks actually compare to Philadelphia’s?
The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that many of Maryland’s best cheesesteaks belong in the same conversation as Philadelphia’s best. Now, before anyone jumps on me, I know we’re comparing an entire state to a single city. Philadelphia is still the cheesesteak capital. If someone asked me where to go for the best overall cheesesteak culture, variety, history, and sheer number of great shops, I’d still tell them Philadelphia without hesitation. My point is much narrower than that.
I don’t think the gap between the very best cheesesteaks in Maryland and the very best cheesesteaks in Philadelphia is nearly as large as many people assume. Yes, Maryland has its own “steak and cheese” culture, where lettuce, tomatoes, mayonnaise, and other toppings became standard because so many of us grew up with places like Jerry’s Subs & Pizza. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking specifically about Philadelphia-style cheesesteaks.
Even within Philadelphia, there isn’t one universally accepted version of a “real” cheesesteak. Some shops still follow the classic mid-century style made famous by iconic destinations like Pat’s and Geno’s, featuring thin ribbons of ribeye left mostly intact on a soft Italian roll with Cheez Whiz, American, or provolone.
Others take a more modern approach, finely chopping the meat together with onions on the flat-top before piling it into a crustier seeded Italian roll and finishing it with melted Cooper Sharp cheese. Neither style is objectively “correct,” and both have passionate supporters. The chopped-meat-and-Cooper-Sharp approach has simply become increasingly common among many of Philadelphia’s newer and highly acclaimed shops.
Here in Maryland, places like Frank’s (Baltimore), 5th & Steaks (Catonsville, College Park, and Glen Burnie), SOKO Butcher (Takoma Park), The Original Rocky’s (Cascade), Cheesesteak Co. (Elkridge), Tokoa (Silver Spring), Eataliano (Columbia), and others have absolutely mastered their own styles. They received my highest ratings in the state of Maryland. If those shops opened locations in Philadelphia tomorrow, I believe many would earn loyal followings alongside the city’s respected cheesesteak spots.
In addition to eating well over 100 cheesesteaks throughout Maryland, I’ve also eaten at around 30 cheesesteak shops in and around Philadelphia, including most of the places people regularly recommend as must-visits. Based on that experience, I think several of Maryland’s best cheesesteaks can absolutely hold their own against some of Philadelphia’s most celebrated sandwiches. That doesn’t mean everyone has to agree.
Some people will think one Maryland shop doesn’t use the right bread. Others will say there’s too much cheese, not enough meat, or that the onions aren’t cooked correctly. The exact same debates happen in Philadelphia. That’s because cheesesteaks, more than almost any other sandwich, are deeply personal. Everyone has their own definition of what makes the perfect cheesesteak.
That’s also why I’m not surprised when people from Philadelphia who now live in Maryland insist they still can’t find “a real Philly cheesesteak.” Nostalgia is powerful. The cheesesteak you grew up eating often becomes the standard against which every other one is judged.
I’ve actually posted photos of popular Philadelphia cheesesteaks and watched former Philadelphians criticize them for having too much cheese, the wrong bread, not enough meat, or some other flaw. Ironically, many of those same criticisms could be made about almost any cheesesteak, whether it’s from Philadelphia or Maryland.
I’ve also learned that popularity and personal preference don’t always line up. There are several Philadelphia cheesesteaks that many people consider among the city’s best that simply aren’t my favorites. Dalessandro’s, Ishkabibble’s, Jim’s, and a few others just didn’t do it for me. I’ve heard countless people recommend skipping Dalessandro’s and going across the street to Chubby’s instead. I tried both. They were very similar experiences, and neither would make my personal must-return list. That doesn’t mean they’re bad. It simply means taste is subjective.
The same applies to Philadelphia’s legendary cheesesteak institutions. Their reputations were absolutely earned, but I also think decades of history, tradition, and nostalgia naturally become part of the experience. That’s true of iconic food destinations everywhere, not just cheesesteaks.
Take Angelo’s, for example. I love Angelo’s. I think it’s outstanding, and I believe the overwhelming majority of people would agree after eating it. But I once showed someone a photo of a cheesesteak from Tokoa in Silver Spring and told him it was from Angelo’s. His response? “Now THAT’S a cheesesteak.” I don’t think he would’ve reacted the same way if I’d told him it was from Maryland first.
Another friend confidently told me Angelo’s has the best cheesesteak in the world. When I asked which Philadelphia cheesesteaks he’d actually eaten, his answer was Pat’s, Geno’s, and Angelo’s. That’s exactly how opinions are formed. We all have limited experiences, favorites we trust, and places we haven’t tried yet.
And before the comments roll in, I already know how this goes. No matter which shops I mention, someone will say the best one is another place. Or another neighborhood. Or New Jersey. Or Delco. Or the tiny corner shop nobody’s heard of. Or the place that closed ten years ago. Or the one I somehow missed. Or that me liking one cheesesteak “invalidates the whole list.” That’s part of what makes cheesesteaks so much fun.
There probably isn’t a definitive “best” cheesesteak, and I don’t pretend there is. I’m also not claiming to have eaten every cheesesteak in Maryland or Philadelphia, nor am I suggesting my opinion should carry more weight than anyone else’s. I’m simply saying that after eating well over 100 cheesesteaks across Maryland and around 30 of Philadelphia’s most recommended shops, I genuinely believe Maryland’s very best cheesesteaks deserve to be mentioned alongside Philadelphia’s very best.
Philadelphia is still the cheesesteak capital. But if we’re talking about where you can find an exceptional Philadelphia-style cheesesteak, I no longer believe crossing the state line is a requirement. I’ll be back soon with my top five in Philadelphia.
