As the New York Knicks and Philadelphia 76ers face off in the playoffs, the longtime rivalry is heating up off the hardwood and onto New York City menus.

Some zealous Knicks fans have even gone as far as to “ban” the iconic Philly cheesesteak, while others are doubling down on New York’s humble bodega legend: the chopped cheese.

To honor the playoffs, New York Post staffers settled the debate over Philly cheesesteaks and New York’s chopped cheese. Tamara Beckwith/NY Post

The beef runs deeper than sandwiches.

Both the Philly cheesesteak and chopped cheese have become hometown comfort foods — but despite sharing meat, cheese and onions, the similarities mostly end there. And for eager fans, bragging rights are at steak.

To settle the debate ourselves as the Knicks and Sixers face off in Game 3 Friday night in the City of Brotherly Love, New York Post staffers warmed up their appetites on the bench and prepared for a little 1v1 lunch-hour showdown.

The contenders:

Philly’s beefy transplant

The Philly contender came from Danny & Coop’s, the buzzy East Village cheesesteak shop co-owned by actor Bradley Cooper and Philadelphia restaurateur Danny DiGiampietro. The $21 sandwich, loaded with thinly sliced ribeye, grilled onions and Cooper Sharp cheese, nearly fell out of the seeded bun. Sweet and hot peppers were available on the side for an added touch.

The humble bodega legend, the chopped cheese on the left, compared to Danny & Coop’s East Village rendition of the cheesesteak on the right. Tamara Beckwith/NY Post
Outside Danny & Coop’s in the East Village, arguably the best cheesesteaks in the city. Stephen Yang for NY Post

On first glance, the nearly foot-long sandwich was presented in a sleek, durable to-go box that traveled well to The Post’s Midtown office. The girthy sandwich was politely cut into quarters for shareability.

“It’s quite a substantial sandwich,” said Eric Hegedus, deputy Lifestyle editor and biased ex-Philadelphian, upon first glance. However, he was adamant that sesame seeds traditionally do not belong on the roll.

The meat, he said, was a little salty and overall lacked the “je ne sais quoi” of waiting in line at Jim’s South St. in his former home city.

Thinly sliced ribeye swims in melted Cooper’s sharp cheddar cheese. Stephen Yang for NY Post

But not everyone agreed with that.

Benjamin Cost of the Lifestyle team gleefully called the shaved shreds of ribeye “super tender, and baptized in a fondu-like river of molten Cooper’s sharp.”

And even though she would have eaten anything at that point, hungry Lifestyle writer Allison Lax said the cheesesteak experience overall blew her expectations out of the water.

“It was so flavorful and just the right amount of chewy without being too much.”

Bradley Cooper’s overflowing sandwich transported beautifully to our office in a to-go box. Stephen Yang for NY Post

NYC’s classic chopped cheese

Then came New York’s answer.

The chopped cheese arrived from Hajji’s in East Harlem. For less than half the price of Danny & Coop’s creation — just $8.50, to be exact — the hero combines chopped ground beef, onions and melted American cheese, topped with lettuce, tomato, mayo and ketchup. Simple, understated, traveling well, wrapped in white parchment paper and in a black bag. Also, politely cut into quarters.

Outside Blue Sky Deli (Hajji’s) in Harlem, home of the Chopped Cheese. Tamara Beckwith/NY Post

But after a few bites, reactions became noticeably more divided.

“It reminds you of comfort food you’d have as a kid,” said photographer Tamara Beckwith, who compared it to a McDonald’s cheeseburger thanks to the “nondescript” blend of American cheese and mayo.

Then there was the issue of the warm lettuce and tomato, which made the sandwich a “soggier experience,” according to Page Six’s Jacquelyn Kozak.

Chef Frank Ramirez prepares a chopped cheese sandwich at Bue Sky Deli. Ground beef and cheese are chopped together on the grill before being served on a roll. Tamara Beckwith/NY Post

Even The Post’s own food critic, Steve Cuozzo, struggled to get the sandwich out of the wrapping.

“What is this, Crazy Glued?” he joked before actually being pleasantly surprised upon taking a bite. “The bodega one gives a good account of itself for fewer dollars.”

His afternoon “snack needs” had been met.

Even with that in mind, most of the staff felt like it was an unfair comparison.

The chopped cheese also combines lettuce, tomato and mayo, giving it more of a burger feel. Tamara Beckwith/NY Post

“I am a native New Yorker who absolutely abhors Philadelphia sports, and it brings me no joy to report that this was not a close contest,” said Shane Galvin of The Post’s Sunday news team. “The chopped cheese is just not playing the same sport as the cheesesteak.”

He brutally called the sandwich bready and flat, with “a concerning amount of vegetable matter mixed in with the ground beef, which featured plasticy American cheese.”

At least in terms of accessibility in the city’s abhorrent line culture, the chopped cheese has a leg up. But other staff said, even still, they couldn’t see themselves having another one in their future, despite being a New York classic.

For the price, the bodega chopped cheese has become a staple for New Yorkers. Tamara Beckwith/NY Post

The winner

Overall, Danny & Coop’s cheesesteak was the crowd favorite, which feels a little unfair for a sandwich with a much higher price point — and really, it’s just a matter of what you’re in the mood for.

The chopped cheese felt more like a late-night or hangover fix, whereas Danny & Coop’s felt like a premium experience that one staffer said was like comparing wagyu to Hamburger Helper.

“The chopped cheese goes in a different direction with a sweeter profile that’s more burger-esque — which certainly has its place in the pantheon of cravings,” said Post Sports Editor Michael Blinn.

If only there were a way to “Frankenstein the chopped cheese on the Coop’s bread,” that would be it, said Photo Editor Alyssa Hargrove.

The chopped cheese (left) vs. the cheesesteak (right). Tamara Beckwith/NY Post

But by the end of the tasting, the cheesesteak had won over even some of New York’s most loyal hometown defenders.

In perhaps the biggest upset of all, Philadelphia diehard Hegedus went back for seconds of Danny & Coop’s New York cheesesteak — salt bomb be damned.



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