The best sandwich in Philly is the cheesesteak at Mama’s Pizzeria

In “The Best Sandwich in Philly” series, contributors make an argument for what they think is the best — or, at least, their favorite — sandwich in the Philly area. Disagree? Want to tell us about the best hoagie? cheesesteak? Make your case in 300 words or less, and submit it at bit.ly/40JvDBI.

You can learn a lot about a cheesesteak joint by how people who love it talk about it.

Those who wax poetic about Jim’s or Dalessandro’s do so with a sense of nostalgia. If someone says their favorite is Angelo’s, they often pause to see if you’re impressed by their choice. Fans of Pat’s or Geno’s describe the neon-lit storefronts with the enthusiasm of tourists, because they are.

By contrast, when friends effuse to me about Mama’s Pizzeria in Bala Cynwyd, they do so with quiet confidence. Or as Tina Gambone of Conshohocken Italian Bakery, who supplies their rolls, put it: “If you know, you know.”

Paul Castellucci, 61, grew up at Mama’s, which his parents, Paul and Merry, opened in 1958. “I was born on a Saturday, here by Tuesday, and cooking by Thursday,” he said with a laugh. By the time he was old enough to work the grill — about a decade before he took over the business in the 1980s — they were known more for their huge cheesesteaks than their Italian fare. Eventually Mama’s Pizzeria stopped selling pizza to focus on hoagies.

Castellucci attributes the cheesesteak’s popularity to the quality of the ingredients. He said the ribeye, thinly shaved in-house and piled high, retains its juiciness after it’s browned just because it’s so fresh. Asked about the onions — coarsely chopped, essential for balancing out the sandwich’s heaviness — he replied that they’re simply cut and seasoned by hand in the shop.

The most distinctive part of a Mama’s cheesesteak is the cheese. Their secret blend is the default option, and almost all his customers order it. He divulged that there are three cheeses involved but politely deflected further questions. (I am less confident in my theory — American, mozzarella, and provolone — than I was before I asked.) Whatever it is, good luck finding a spot that puts more cheese in their steaks than Mama’s.

Even the Conshohocken roll is unique. Shortly after the bakery opened in 1973, they designed a custom bread to accommodate Mama’s gigantic portions. “It’s just got more girth,” Gambone said, “because [Castellucci] packs that sandwich.” It’s buttery and soft inside with a satisfyingly chewy crust, like a cross between an Italian loaf and challah.

Castellucci accepted my premise that you can infer a deli’s vibe from the people who rave about it, but offered his own explanation of what Mama’s fans have in common: He probably knows them. He estimated that at least 80% of his customers are regulars and spoke with pride about families with third-generation patrons. He joked that feeding the same customers cheesesteaks over many years has special benefits: “I get kickbacks from the cardiologist!”

Mama’s has one other employee, but Castellucci usually works alone. They are open only four days a week to mitigate the toll of operating as “a one-man band.” Still, it is a family business, and the extended Castellucci clan helps out. “They’ll walk in the door to visit and they’ll start answering phones,” Castellucci said. “It’s heritage.”

Lewis Pollis is a data scientist by day and a freelance food writer. Find more of his food writing at his Substack, the Lewsletter, and follow his culinary adventures on Instagram @LewieTheFewdie.