Philly Boyz comes full circle, one cheesesteak at a time

Philly Boyz has been slinging cheesesteaks around Fernandina in one form or another since 2008. I’ve lived here most of my life. Somehow, until last Saturday, our paths had never crossed. Better late than never.

The local cheesesteak operation has had something of a circular journey. Philly Boyz originally operated out of a brick-and-mortar location in downtown Fernandina before eventually making the transition to food trucks. Now, owners Joe and Jennifer Zimmerman are preparing to bring Philly Boyz back indoors with a new location on South Eighth Street. Until then, you have to track down the truck.

On the Saturday I visited, I made my way to the Home Depot parking lot across from Gate in Yulee. There’re no tables or chairs, and not much reason to linger once you’ve collected your grub. It’s a parking lot. You order, grab and go.

Jennifer was working the window when I walked up, and despite presumably having spent hours inside a hot food truck, she was remarkably cheerful. I asked what she recommended, and she was conversational, informative and genuinely pleasant to talk with. The truck itself lays out its cheesesteak philosophy rather succinctly: “big, greasy and unapologetically messy,” with or without onions. Just don’t ask for lettuce.

I hadn’t eaten a cheesesteak in so long that I couldn’t remember the last one, and on this particular Saturday I wanted meat and cheese in unreasonable quantities. So I ordered the classic for $17.95 with shaved steak, green peppers and provolone. I skipped the sauteed onions. I’d later regret this. Per Jennifer’s recommendation, I also ordered the Dilladelphia Fries for $9.95, topped with ranch, bacon, pickle seasoning and a few sliced pickles.

I made it approximately as far as the driver’s seat before opening them. The smell was essentially that of someone cracking open a pickle jar and waving it under my nose. Dill and vinegar immediately filled the car, and I wasn’t entirely convinced this was going to work. Then I took a bite and stopped worrying about it.

The fries were hot and crisp, with salty bacon and ranch piled over them, but the pickle seasoning is what makes the whole thing work. That sharp dill-and-vinegar bite cuts through the salt and fat and keeps everything from getting overwhelmingly heavy. The actual pickle slices are mostly there for an occasional cold crunch.

They’re also nearly $10 for a regular, and the portion isn’t particularly large. My first thought was that 10 bucks should probably buy me more fries than this. Then I ate all of them and wished I had ordered the large. Make of that what you will.

The classic was waiting for me when I got home, and opening the container was slightly intimidating. This thing is enormous. An explosion of chopped beef, melted provolone and green peppers stuffed into a long, soft roll. For a moment, I genuinely had to decide how I was going to tackle this.

The first bite answered any remaining questions. The steak is chopped into small pieces and was remarkably tender, juicy and just greasy enough, with a little sear around the edges. There was no rubbery chewiness, and the seasoning let the beef actually taste like beef rather than burying it underneath everything else. The provolone was melted throughout the steak instead of simply sitting on top, so nearly every bite contained beef, cheese and peppers together.

Those green peppers ended up being one of my favorite parts, adding a slight bitterness that cut through all that meat and melted cheese. This is where I regretted skipping the onions. The roll itself was warm and incredibly soft, which turned out to be exactly what the sandwich needed. It compressed around the filling instead of fighting against it, and there was never too much bread compared with the meat.

And there’s a lot of meat. At nearly $20, there probably should be, but Philly Boyz certainly isn’t skimping. For all the truck’s warnings about grease and mess, my classic was surprisingly well-behaved. Nothing ran down my arm, I didn’t destroy a shirt, and most of the contents stayed inside the bread. Maybe I’m just really good at eating.

About halfway through the sandwich, though, I had to put it down. This sandwich is a commitment. Between it and the fries, this became my meal for the day, but I eventually returned and finished every last bite.

You’re looking at roughly $28 before tax for the classic and regular Dilladelphia Fries. That’s not cheap, particularly considering the size of the fry portion. But it’s also increasingly difficult to get a substantial meal anywhere without watching $20 disappear. At least here, the cheesesteak itself feels worth the money. It’s huge, well-made, and loaded with enough beef that nobody could reasonably accuse Philly Boyz of skimping.

What surprised me most wasn’t simply that I enjoyed it. It was how often I thought about it afterward. Several times during the following week, I caught myself wondering whether the truck might be parked outside Home Depot again. That’s usually a better endorsement than anything I can write here.

Soon enough, chasing the truck won’t be necessary. Philly Boyz is preparing to open its new brick-and-mortar restaurant on South Eighth Street, bringing a longtime Fernandina business back to a permanent home. This is potentially terrible news for me. I fear for my waistline. I’ll probably order the onions next time