9 Chain Restaurant Cheesesteak Sandwiches, Ranked Worst To Best

I've been deep in the drama of everyone's favorite cheesesteak for decades. As a Pennsylvanian native, I couldn't agree more that Chowhound listed the Philly cheesesteak as our state's most iconic sandwich ... but where do you go to get one? My parents both grew up around Philadelphia, so whenever we visited their families, we always stopped by their favorite spots, usually Jim's on South Street or Sonny's. Luckily, we never had to wait just for family holiday trips to get a decent sandwich. My dad would often take us to a Dominic's of New York food truck stationed in front of our local Lowe's Home Improvement, grabbing mulch for the front yard and cheesesteaks for lunch. Into adulthood, the Philly connection stayed tight: when I moved to South Philly for a few years in my 20s, I was within walking distance to Pat's and Geno's. And now that my younger brother and his wife live in North Philly, Del Rossi's reigns.

Obviously, my burning desire to eat shaved steak, gooey cheese, and fluffy bread never dwindled. With so many chain restaurants serving their own take on this ultra-savory sandwich, I knew I was highly qualified to fulfill the duties of this review. Interpretations were wide and varied, with odes to classic Philly cheesesteaks, bistro-style updates, as well as over-the-top, artery-clogging versions. While my childhood self was jumping for joy at the opportunity to chow down on cheesesteaks, I knew I had to take this responsibility just a little more seriously. Continue reading for my detailed reviews of nine chain restaurant cheesesteak sandwiches, ranked worst to best.

The moment I saw the Subway employee pile on the raw bell peppers and red onions and drizzle on a questionably runny mayonnaise, I knew this sandwich was doomed. And here it sits, at the very bottom of my list. I tend to play it safe and simple with my Subway orders, favoring cold cuts like turkey topped with lettuce and tomato with a light application of ranch or Italian dressing. I was incredulous to step outside of my comfort zone, and I was right to feel skeptical. I will never leave that happy space if that means I would have to eat The Philly again. I'm not the only one with this opinion: Another review on Chowhound ranked The Philly near the bottom of 15 Subway sandwiches.

The bread had the soft, slightly marshmallowy texture typical of a Subway roll, which also ranked fairly low in a separate Chowhound review of breads from fast-food sandwich chains. The meat was chewy, with a processed taste I couldn't quite place, and the American cheese had no flavor. The raw vegetables were a serious atrocity here. The copious amount of red onion ferociously overpowered every single bite, while the crisp and floral raw bell peppers, delightful on their own, seemed bizarrely out of place on this style of sandwich. Call me an old-fashioned ex-Philadelphian grump, but the main veggies on a cheesesteak should either be cooked or pickled.

I wasn't impressed by the Steak & Cheese at Firehouse Subs. The core of the problem was that the quality and preparation of the meat were unpleasant. The steak was chopped rather thick, and it was spongy and rubbery. It was closer to a thick-cut deli-style roast beef than to the thinly shaved, tender meat expected in a cheesesteak.

As for the accompaniments, there was a lot that was left to the imagination with this one — most were close to nonexistent. There wasn't a lot of provolone cheese, and what I did manage to find was bland and bouncy, which is a common flaw with lower-quality provolone. The caramelized onions and peppers were either not included in the order or were chopped so finely and cooked for so long that they melted and deteriorated. The bread was just okay, with a harder crust and chewier interior, and wasn't anything memorable compared to many of the other bread selections. But I was happy to see a pickle spear served on the side for a pop of flavor to an otherwise flat sandwich.

Sonic's Philly Cheesesteak was a bland and boring option, but it wasn't a complete disaster. As the most mediocre selection of the group, it's the one I forgot about soon after eating it, especially in this lineup of other cheesesteaks with far bigger personalities. It's a filling sandwich, a means to an end to eat a bunch of naughty calories and feel at least satiated, but not necessarily feel full of joy. You'll take a bite, shrug, and continue eating it with mild approval. It's a fast food cheesesteak, that's all.

The under-seasoned steak was finely shaved and chopped, a preparation which foreshadows its eventual destiny of being overcooked and dry. The chopped and grilled onions, at least, were plentiful, but they were also under-seasoned. Whatever type of shredded white American cheese Sonic uses was also bland and rubbery, and didn't have an exceptional melting quality. The cheese shreds slightly fused together when warm, but then quickly cooled into a solid, chewy mass on top of the steak. The bread was decent, with a pillowy softness on the inside and a slightly sweet taste. But I could tell it was at the start of going stale, or it may have just been toasted a little too heavily on the outside.

Grilled steak, provolone cheese, and a mix of sautéed green peppers, mushrooms, and onions — it was a lineup of ingredients I was thrilled to try at Charleys when I ordered its Philly Cheesesteak. And though I was enticed by the savory aromas wafting out of the takeout box, the taste unfortunately fell a little short. The peppers and onions were actually nice, and both still had a lovely al dente texture. The mushrooms, however, were either missing entirely or so finely sliced/chopped that they blended in with the steak pieces. Either way, I couldn't really taste any essence of my favorite fungus. The grilled steak could have been more tender — it was cut thick and somewhat chewy. The choice of a poor-quality provolone, as we have already learned from Firehouse Subs, did the sandwich no favors. Sure, there was a lot of it, but the larger amount only made things worse. The melted provolone coated the meat like a rubbery, flavorless blanket.

I knew I should have gotten their Old School Cheesesteak instead, which Chowhound has ranked as one of the best chain-restaurant steak sandwiches. That option features steak, sautéed onions, and Cheez Whiz. But I won't be disappointed for long ... there's always lunch tomorrow!

Panera Bread's Ciabatta Cheesesteak was an upscale, bistro-inspired interpretation of the casual sandwich. While it was the least like a classic cheesesteak among the contenders in this review, it was one of the more flavorful and memorable dishes I tried. Assembled to order like all the other Panera Bread sandwiches, the Ciabatta Cheesesteak tasted fresh, with a layered masterpiece of unexpected ingredients.

The condiment selections were particularly bright and zippy. First, there were chopped sweet peppers, providing a lightly pickled punch. There was also a zesty garlic aioli spread, which was not shy with its bold flavor profile. Both the peppers and the aioli played well with the other savory components. The sliced steak, though lovely and tender, was a little scarce. I loved that the onions in this sandwich were deeply sweet and caramelized to the point of divine jamminess, but there could have been more of them. The toasted ciabatta bread was a stellar choice, with tons of texture: a crisp, crunchy crust and a light, spongy interior. But there was too much of it compared to the filling, and even though the provolone melted nicely, it was bland.

A top contender, the Beer Cheese Cheesesteak at Buffalo Wild Wings did not hold back on its bold combination of ingredients. Each bite I took was transformed into a crazed, sodium-packed fever dream of meaty, cheesy indulgence. The defining feature of this dish was the devilish duo of two distinct cheeses. In addition to yellow American cheese, Buffalo Wild Wings smothered the sandwich in a beer cheese, which is currently flavored with New Belgium Brewing Fat Tire Ale. My bad experiences with beer cheese far outweigh the good, with most of them showing up to the table as gritty, separated, overcooked slop thrown in a ramekin. But this version was a thick, creamy, velvety standout — a luscious exception to my horrific dining woes from the past.

But let's move on to the other components before I start salivating all over my keyboard. The meat was shaved thinly, and it was cooked and seasoned well. The bread was fresh and fluffy, no complaints there. I could have used more grilled onions, and I was confused by the addition of spring onions. There was a weirdly abundant amount of sliced spring onions piled on top of the sandwich. They didn't contribute anything to the dish, and seemed oddly out of place. If they were meant to be a fresh, zingy counterbalance to the ultra-savory cheesesteak, that intention didn't come through. These tiny pieces were flavorless and limp.

Exactly as described, the Loaded Cheesesteak Bomb from Primanti Brothers was a massive (and very messy) explosion of savory flavor — a bold take on the handheld. The restaurant is famous for its "Almost Famous Sandwiches," piled high with fries, coleslaw, and your choice of meat between slices of white Italian bread. As a current Pittsburgh resident, I have ordered many of these sandwiches but never thought to explore the rest of the menu — and I've been missing out, for sure!

The cheesesteak featured a hearty pile of grilled angus steak butchered into thick pieces, with the edges crisped and caramelized. The beef was tender, but there were some tough, gristly bits on occasion. The generous amount of yellow American cheese was sinfully dispersed throughout the sandwich, and the crostini roll was soft and fluffy yet still held up surprisingly well under the weight of the fillings. I only wish there were more grilled peppers and onions. What I tasted was incredible, so I was disappointed by their scarcity.

This behemoth of a sandwich shouldn't be consumed on any ol' Tuesday. Save this dinner order when you'll need it the most: it's exactly what you want to match a sloppy, drunk energy on an unhinged weekend night out when it's after midnight, everywhere else is closed, and you and your party pals are craving a meaty, cheesy meal with lots and lots of carbs. You'll be thanking me for all that grease.

Simple. Classic. This is the cheesesteak my picky childhood self would absolutely love. The Philly Cheesesteak at PrimoHoagies doesn't mess around with fancy sauces or loaded toppings. In its humble purity, it won over my heart and stomach as a no-nonsense option. At its most basic, Primo's Philly Cheesesteak included bread, steak, and cheese. But with a quick deep dive into each of those individual components, you'll see exactly why I chose this as the second-place winner.

Primo uses extra lean loin tail, which is cut from the thin, tapered end of the tenderloin. It has the same leanness and tenderness you would expect from a filet mignon — a popular yet expensive cut from the tenderloin — but at a far more affordable cost. And because the meat was shaved so thinly, it was enjoyably light and delicate. And there was plenty of it, so I definitely didn't feel like I was being stiffed on the amount of product. It was also seasoned to perfection, with just the right level of salt, black pepper, and dried oregano.

The cheese was a brilliant star with a personality that outshone all the flavorless, rubbery deli-style provolone. Primo used Cooper Sharp White cheese, which has the super-creamy, melt-worthy texture of a white American cheese with the subtle bite and tang of cheddar. As for the bread, a light, soft bun with just enough chewy texture did the trick for housing the filling.

The Famous Philly from Jersey Mike's was my ultimate choice. The chain is hitting home runs, apparently, since Jersey Mike's is also Chowhound's best choice for a roast beef sub. As for the cheesesteak, it gave me the most joy in this run and was closest in comparison to all the cheesesteaks I ravenously consumed as both a resident and visitor of Philly. The sandwich had all the right ingredients for a perfect cheesesteak, with just enough individuality to give it a unique edge that stood out from the rest.

Each component was prepped and assembled with a methodical, well-trained touch, despite the fact that I placed my order at one of the most stressful times for a sandwich shop: the peak of a weekday lunch-hour rush. There was a hefty serving of thinly shaved steak, and a perfect amount of gooey, melty white American cheese. The bread was fresh and fluffy with a crisp, feathery crust.

But what I considered its crowning glory was the generous serving of juicy, grilled, thickly cut onions and bell peppers. While I was generally disappointed by the lack of veggies on top of the other cheesesteaks, this one gave me everything I desired and more. I knew I was in for a savory treat when I could see larger pieces of the lightly seared veggies, whereas I often had to hunt for barely-there pieces on the other sandwiches.

I intentionally ordered each cheesesteak as advertised on the menu, with no additions or substitutions. Some were simply steak and cheese, while others came with various condiments, vegetables, and sides. If there was a completely separate side dish (such as fries or chips), I did not factor it into my judging. I based my critiques on multiple factors, such as appearance, aroma, amounts of each component, texture, flavor, preparation, and cooking method. I analyzed each component on its own, as well as how they all combined to contribute to the overall sandwich experience.

For a more well-rounded review, I did not dine alone. I also enlisted the advice of my husband and a few of my co-workers, all food industry professionals who have a profound love and devotion to cheesesteaks in their many formats. We tested the sandwiches side by side, took notes, and discussed; I seriously considered their opinions as I finalized the ranking.