What we missed on our roundup of Philadelphia’s 76 most iconic dishes

We knew that a list of 76 iconic Philadelphia foods would leave something out. It did. After hearing from readers — and revisiting a few of our own debates — we had to mention six items that deserve a place in the city’s culinary canon. They don’t replace the original 76; they just expand the conversation.

Long before Philadelphia claimed the cheesesteak as its signature sandwich, another pairing drew a following: the hot dog and fishcake combo. Culinary historians generally agree that Abe Levis (rhymes with “crevice”) created it in 1895 by pressing a fried fish cake atop a grilled frank on the same bun at his luncheonette on Sixth Street near Lombard.

Instant surf-and-turf!

Levis also created Champ Cherry, the bright-red, cider-like soda that became the combo’s traditional companion. The Old Original Levis shop changed hands several times, spawned a few short-lived offshoots, and finally closed in 1992 under owner Elliott Hirsh, who later revived Levis as a store in Abington from 2012 to 2017 while marketing Champ Cherry in cans.

But tastes have changed and the brands are moribund, as Hirsh, now 80, acknowledged: “I’ve been actively trying to find someone that wants to take it over. And not even sell it. Just take it over. I’d hate to die and take it with me, but that’s what we’re going to do.”

The hot dog-fishcake combo, at least, survives. Just after World War II, Levis rival Lenny’s Hot Dogs also sold them from a stand nearby at Fifth and Passyunk.

Lenny’s secret sauce was the pepper hash — a sweet-and-sour relish of cabbage and bell peppers that cuts through the richness of the dish— created by owner Lenny Kravitz’s mother, Ida.

Kravitz expanded Lenny’s to several locations from Mount Airy to Margate, N.J. In the 1980s, he sold his final shop, at 6620 Castor Ave. in the Northeast, to Wayne Knapp. Kravitz died in 1998.

Knapp later relocated Lenny’s to Feasterville. That shop as well as Johnny Hot’s, John Danze Jr.’s truck stop on Delaware Avenue in Fishtown, are among the few standard-bearers of this classic. Be sure to add a squirt of yellow mustard and a smattering of diced onions, as illustrator Hawk Krall suggested in his 2009 poster print of the sandwich.

As for another curious combo, only in Philadelphia would someone look at cool, creamy chicken salad and crunchy fried oysters and think, “Of course those belong together.”

The unlikely pairing has been a local specialty for well over a century, dating to the city’s grand oyster houses, hotels, and taverns in the late 1800s. One popular explanation of its origin holds that tavern keepers paired cheap, plentiful oysters with more expensive chicken to stretch a serving. Food historian William Woys Weaver has noted that Philadelphia’s finest hotels elevated the dish, serving chicken salad dressed with tarragon mayonnaise and encircled by crisp fried oysters. More humble versions turned up in neighborhood brew houses and lunch counters across the city.

Similar dishes appeared in New York, Baltimore, and Boston, and some historians believe that Philadelphia’s influential Black catering families helped popularize the combination. What is certain is that chicken salad and oysters were served at an organizing meeting of Philadelphia’s Union League in 1862.

The combo’s popularity has ebbed in recent years, and its primary home is now Oyster House near Rittenhouse Square, whose family ownership dates back nearly 80 years.

Life was all Skippy and Jif in the early 1970s when a Philadelphia music teacher decided to grind peanuts in his kitchen because he couldn’t find peanut butter that tasted the way he remembered.

Richard Marcus was a conductor, pianist, radio host, and founder of the Society Hill School of Music & Art. Frustrated by the sweetened, homogenized spreads that dominated grocery shelves, he bought five pounds of peanuts at Reading Terminal Market, roasted them, and blitzed them in his blender. The result was nothing more than peanuts — no sugar, salt, or oils.

Friends loved it. By 1972, they convinced him to package it. Marcus produced an initial run of about 144 jars, selling them through Philadelphia delis and health-food stores. He called it Crazy Richard’s, his wink to skeptics who thought he was nuts for marketing a peanut butter that separated naturally and required stirring.

Word of mouth did the rest. Marcus eventually gave up his music school to run the business full time, first contracting production in Conshohocken before opening plants in Pennsauken and later Bellmawr. At its peak under his ownership, Crazy Richard’s sold about 750,000 jars a year throughout the Mid-Atlantic and Northeast and by mail. Marcus insisted that there was no secret recipe: “It’s just ground peanuts.”

In 1991, Ohio’s Krema Nut Co. bought Crazy Richard’s and kept Marcus’ one-ingredient recipe intact. Today, 12 years after his death, the brand is sold nationwide. The “Crazy Richard” on the label is still the Philadelphia musician who proved that sometimes the simplest ideas stick.

Long Island has its iced tea. Why shouldn’t Fishtown? Created in 2013 at Interstate Drafthouse on Palmer Street, Fishtown Iced Tea spikes a 16-ounce carton of Arctic Splash iced tea with a shot of Jim Beam bourbon, turning a childhood lunchbox staple into an adult version of the sugary, dangerously smooth cocktail. Its roots are distinctly regional. Besides milk, Lehigh Valley Dairy, Wawa, Swiss Farms, and Turkey Hill also sold iced tea in pint cartons that generations of Philadelphians grew up drinking.

During the pandemic, when Pennsylvania temporarily allowed to-go cocktails, Interstate sold enough Fishtown Iced Tea to keep the bar afloat. In 2022, the popularity inspired a canned version from Rectified Spirits, made with vodka, rum, tequila, and triple sec instead of bourbon.

In a twist, the ready-to-drink cocktail debuted just as Lehigh Valley discontinued Arctic Splash cartons, ending an era for the drink that inspired it.

One of Buddakan’s signature dishes is the edamame dumpling, filled with mashed soybeans and served in a truffled Sauternes-shallot broth. Michael Schulson, then chef de cuisine at Stephen Starr’s Old City destination, came up with the idea in 2000 while developing the menu for Starr’s next project, Pod, whose opening in University City was six months away. “Every dish I made, Stephen would say, ‘We’re putting this on the menu at Buddakan,’” Schulson said. “I’d say, ‘What about Pod?’”

The original version was an edamame ravioli, featuring a yellow pasta wrapper in a caramelized Sauternes-shallot broth, transforming what was then an unfamiliar ingredient to many American diners — young Japanese soybeans — into one of Buddakan’s signature dishes. (It made it onto Pod’s menu, too.) When Buddakan New York opened in 2006 with Schulson leading the kitchen, the ravioli evolved into the translucent har gow-style dumpling that has since become its best-known form, before it later arrived on the menu in Philadelphia. It’s still a bestseller.

After leaving Starr, Schulson adapted the concept at his restaurant Sampan, serving edamame dumplings in a caramelized shallot and sake broth, and later at Double Knot with truffles.

Stuff steak and cheese into an egg-roll wrapper, deep-fry it, and you’ve got one of Philadelphia’s signature mashups: the cheesesteak egg roll.

They’re everywhere now, from neighborhood pubs to white-tablecloth steakhouses, and go by “spring rolls” at some places, but their rise can be traced to two nearly simultaneous Philadelphia stories in the mid-1990s.

One unfolded at the old Four Seasons Hotel on the Parkway. Former chef David Jansen said that after preparing a banquet for the New York Rangers in 1994 or 1995, prep cook Mui Lim put leftover cheesesteak filling into spring roll wrappers and fried them as a snack for the kitchen crew. They went on the menu soon after at the hotel’s Swann Lounge. Today’s Four Seasons Philadelphia, now at the Comcast Technology Center, serves wagyu cheesesteak spring rolls with sweet-and-spicy pepper relish.

The other story played out in Old City, where the novelty became a menu staple at the Starr-owned Continental. In 1996, Starr hired Sam “Chef Sammy D” DeMarco to develop dishes for the year-old restaurant. DeMarco already served a Philly cheesesteak dumpling at First, his New York restaurant, but Starr wanted something original.

DeMarco turned the dumpling into a cheesesteak spring roll. “It was taking a classic, nostalgic American snack and presenting it in a fresh way,” said DeMarco, now executive chef at Bungalows Resort in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Like the old Buzz Aldrin cocktail, the roll became a classic. Starr said Continental Mid-town, near Rittenhouse Square, now sells 500 a week.

From the Continental, the idea spread rapidly. Davio’s owner Steve DiFillippo was joining staff for a preshift meal at his former Center City Philadelphia location shortly after it opened in 1999 when chef David Boyle served cheesesteak egg rolls that his wife had made at home. DiFillippo insisted that they be added to the bar menu, overruling managers who felt that they were too déclassé for a posh steakhouse. The Boston-based Davio’s turned the line into a frozen-food item, selling millions through supermarkets and QVC until rising beef prices during the pandemic made them impractical, DiFillippo said. They’re still on the restaurant menus in King of Prussia and elsewhere.

Though DiFillippo copyrighted the name “Philly Cheese Steak Spring Rolls” in 2002, “I’m not going to claim I invented anything,” he said. “But I was the first one to take them into stores and really commercialize them.”