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I may never eat another Philly cheesesteak -- not, at least, when I can have a roast pork sandwich.

I love street fare and simple, filling grub you eat with your hands, be it New England lobster rolls, New Orleans oyster po' boys or North Carolina barbecue sandwiches. That's why Philadelphia is so appealing, with its Italian Market, the Reading Terminal Market and, of course, all those great subs -- especially cheesesteaks.

Then one day at a sub place, I decided to go with a roast pork sandwich. People I knew from the city had insisted that while cheesesteaks got all the publicity, roast pork sandwiches were really the essence of South Philly subs. Several times I'd driven by Tony Luke's, famous for its roast pork sandwiches, and wondered what I was missing. So this time I ordered a roast pork sub. And another.

What a concept! You have roast pork piled inside a sub roll, of course, but it is leavened with very sharp provolone cheese and, wonder of wonders, broccoli rabe or spinach. The whole mixture is usually topped with pork juices, making for a delightful combination of varying tastes. It's filling and tasty, like a cheesesteak, but the subtle interplay between the pork and the tart greens, between the provolone and the spices in the juices, is heaven compared with the sledgehammer-like cheesesteak. (Sharp provolone vs. Cheez Whiz? Please.) And you don't go away feeling you've ingested a grease bomb.

For years, I had accepted the conventional wisdom that the cheesesteak is the quintessential Philadelphia sub. I consumed probably hundreds of those gooey, gloppy, heart-attack-in-a-wrapper concoctions. Of course I participated in the Pat's-vs.-Geno's debate -- I became a resolute fan of Pat's King of Steaks at Ninth and Passyunk in South Philadelphia, often standing in line in freezing weather for the privilege of tasting something that could double your cholesterol count in one sitting. Sometimes, as I chatted with other customers, I'd discover that I was not the only idiot who had driven 100 miles for a $7 sandwich.

But when the transformative moment came for me, when the broccoli rabe mingled with the provolone and pork and juices in my mouth, it was easy to move on.