"Whiz?" the cashier asks, and it's a test to see if you've ever had a real Philly cheese steak, the kind from South Street, where the grease and exhaust fumes are plentiful and no one raises an eyebrow at cheese that comes in a can.

If you can't stomach the Cheez Whiz, it's fine; they have American and provolone. They also have doughy, soft, and slightly greasy rolls to cradle the fresh rib-eye steak, plus perfectly salted fries to satisfy your drunken cravings after the bars close. Top your steak with peppers and onions, and grab a table on the sidewalk. Inhaling this snack takes less than five minutes, long enough to remember that living in Florida isn't bad — so long as it occasionally tastes like Philly.