Owner Renee Lefevre runs this joint with a gruff yet loving hand, and it all adds up to an old-school comfort-food romp in a theatrical environment. As Lefevre walks back and forth behind the counter wielding her spatula like a weapon, her other hand appears to have been sewn to her hip. You'll do well to pull up a stool, order quickly, keep your mouth shut, and enjoy the show as she gives and takes shit from a diverse cast of supporting players.
The flagship sammich here is the Cheese Steak ($5.20), which is chopped, thinly sliced beef topped with American "cheese." Part of the Philadelphia Fevre (PF) experience is watching Lefevre hammer away at the big pile of meat and onions. When it's ready, she shovels it all on the bread, rolls it up, and just might throw it at you. The Gai's hoagie roll is purely and simply a supporting player. PF has no "BREAD!" fetish, and the beefy richness of the cheese steak is allowed to claim its rightful place.
For our beef-o-phobic brothers and sisters, PF offers the Chicken Cheese Steak ($5.20). Though probably not much lower in dietary fat, the chicken cheese steak has a slightly lighter flavor (is lead lighter than cement?), with an aggressive peppering profile sure to please all but the most spice-shy. You can also add hot peppers and mushrooms, both of which add zest to any steak-type situation. Since I was alone and in little danger of being spotted, I went all the way and ordered Cheese Fries ($2.40), smothered in "cheese" sauce akin to the nacho sauce available at the Kingdome. Although the krinkle-kut fries were krispy and krunchy, you should save yourself 90¢ and forget about the "cheese." If you must order it, ask for it on the side (because it makes 'em soggy), and use a fork.
I've been in PF more than 10 and less than 50 times, but I don't eat here much anymore, because, as Susan Hayward (and later Lindsay Wagner in the feeble made-for-TV remake) proclaimed, "I Want To Live!" In the old college days, it would have been easy to get a big crew fired up about coming to a place like PF. All you'd have to say was, "Hey gang, let's run up to Philadelphia Fevre and get us some of those Philadelphia (I refuse to say "Philly") cheese steaks, then we'll all go out new-wave dancing at one of the hottest new clubs!" But this night, I would stand sadly alone, shoulders drooped and spirits sagging. No one from my staff, not even my administrative assistant (AA), would join me when they heard where The Stranger was sending me. My pathetic pleadings were met by stares of disbelief best characterized by the AA's simple question, "Do you think we're out of our minds?" Damned health-food nuts.
PF fare is excellent food for après-drinking bouts or the pesky hangover. A friend of mine reported the ultimate in debauched hangover behavior: getting two PF cheese steaks to go, driving to a park and eating them, then napping in his car for two hours. Fortunately he survived, but unfortunately, PF is not open on weekends to cater to the most common hangover schedules. For any of you in fraternities or sororities, you might consider altering your binge-drinking itinerary; one possible scenario would have the drinking start around noon, with a 5:00 p.m. arrival at PF. Another would simply require heavy (and of course non-lethal, consult your physician for guidelines) drinking on a weeknight, with a trip to PF the next morning.
Even though they're open until 6:00 p.m., we strongly suggest you arrive before 5:00. If you must come later, you'll need either a top-of-the-line respirator or some sort of haz mat gear. My most recent visit at around 5:30 resulted in toxic exposure to near-lethal levels of Pine-Sol, as mop time had started a little early. I gamely battled through the initial light-headedness and stopped noticing the stench after a few minutes, although I did have the distinct impression that my eyeballs were going to pop out. One customer came in and cried out, "Umm, umm, smells like home-cooking! Gimme one of them Pine-Sol cheese steaks!" Lefevre countered with an icy stare. So extreme were the fumes that when I got back to the office, I was met with a cry of "What is that SMELL?" Either PF needs to use a more moderate Pine-Sol blend or simply put off cleaning until closing time.
A few final ordering tips: Look like you know what you're doing, don't ask about the difference between a hoagie and a cheese steak (the hoagie has lettuce and tomato and mayo, which can be gross since this food doesn't need mayo), order quickly, sit down and talk quietly among yourselves, and avoid eye contact with Lefevre. Look like you're reading, enjoy the show as she works her special brand of meaty magic, and come before 5:00.
