“What’s your flavor today, baby?” asks Suzann Barnes when customers mosey into her sunny little eatery for one of the most revered back-East sandwiches on the continent.

Since opening The Philly Grill a year ago, the vivaciously outgoing Barnes, who refers to herself as a “steaked-out lesbian,” has been selling nearly 500 cheese steak sandwiches a week. And for good reason. She uses rib eye select beef, sliced paper-thin on the premises. And she buys her rolls from the nearby New York Bakery, which match in quality the Amoroso’s brand used in cheese steak joints throughout Philadelphia. Top it all off with sweet or hot peppers, a choice of cheese, plus a secret seasoning that Barnes sprinkles in along the way (yet refuses to identify), and you got yourself a justifiably habit-forming sandwich that will knock your socks off.

“I shoot for top quality and wouldn’t feed anyone something that I wouldn’t eat,” says Barnes as she flutters affably over the grill tearing apart the steak meat with her spatulas like some sort of comic Benihana.

As my lunch companion and I gazed at the chalkboard menus hanging over the counter, Barnes rattled off the choices involved before ordering a cheese steak – hot peppers versus sweet-cherry ones, chicken or beef, Atkins-style (made with hearty romaine lettuce) and of course, Cheez Whiz, provolone or white American. Our saliva glands activated immediately.

We commenced with an order of big, fat onion rings and fries that are deep-fried in canola oil and pointed up with that feisty secret seasoning. For our cheese steaks, we diversified with three different six-inch sandwiches. (You’ll need an obscenely gluttonous appetite to scarf down the foot-long ones.) My companion sprung for a basic version topped with onions and sweet peppers, though altering its authentic fabrication with provolone cheese. “I’m definitely coming back here,” he exclaimed after the first chomp.

I chose the Philly Chicken, made with breast meat dressed in some sort of irresistible creamy sauce that waltzed perfectly with the Cheez Whiz. It was extremely filling, but unbelievably good as the foil-lined serving basket caught some of the contents oozing from the bread.

Our third sandwich, the Deluxe Cheese Steak, came with the added bonus of mushrooms and pizza sauce, which Barnes swoops up with fresh garlic and basil. Though it veers slightly off the traditional track, the combination of flavors was worth effusing over.

Barnes, a native San Diegan, has undoubtedly mastered the art of making cheese steak sandwiches after traveling to Philly often and helping a friend there open a similar shop, which now has multiple locations in the area. And in an effort to make her food a little healthier, she uses olive oil on the grill and offers the Atkins Lite and Plain Chicken, which has no cheese. But as far as I’m concerned, if you don’t know how to live a little, then you shouldn’t come here.

Other cheese steak options, made with beef or chicken, include the Garlic Steak, the Barbecue Steak and Chili Steak. The eatery is also the place to come if you’re seeking a classic Italian Hoagie, which is loaded with spiced cold cuts and dressed with virgin olive oil and quality balsamic vinegar. For our return visit, however, we’ll be taking Barnes’ recommendation in trying the Philly Chili Fries, topped with chili plus chicken or steak.

The atmosphere inside is quaint and neighborly with about four retro-style café tables squeezed in. Barnes is always at the helm of the kitchen. And she’ll greet you like a best friend as she zealously prepares for you Philadelphia’s greatest culinary legacy.