The menu at Pepe's is on par with its décor. It only seems logical that a place that serves Philly cheesesteaks alongside pancakes should be decorated like an eat-in 7/11.
Entering this greasy spoon is like walking into a typical breakfast dive, what with the rows of endless wooden booths. But right before you get to the counter to place your order, you have to sidestep several racks of neatly displayed chips. In addition, an entire corner dedicated to refrigerated cases contains soft drinks in true convenience-store style.
The owner, Andrew Makris, was running back and forth in what I assume was typical Friday-night manager mania. Being short-staffed and full of orders did not a happy host make, but daughter Megan was quick to recommend Pepe's cheeseburger sub. I was feeling hungry and easy, so I acquiesced.
As my order was slapped onto the stainless steel grills, I watched in amusement while the short-order cooks deftly snatched down order tickets, cast sidelong glances at them, whipped up the plate and quickly slid it down to the cashier. It was a fast-food assembly line of greased competence.
Other than the cooks and their sometimes obnoxious banter there is not much to be said about the ambiance in this place. There's no artwork on the walls, unless you count the weird pyramid of syrup carafes on a side table. Stacks of Styrofoam food containers decorate the front counter, and an intrusive security camera stares rudely in your face while you eat. Then there's the out-of-place ice cream freezer that looks like it walked away from a convenience store, too.
In all fairness to the establishment, its minimalist take may be due to the fact it was once a drive-thru, many moons ago. But that does not excuse the fact that nearly every table was covered with the crumbs of meals past. How long had they been there -- hours, days, weeks? Seriously, where's a busboy when you need one?
Just as I was becoming preoccupied with things that would kill my appetite, my cheeseburger sub arrived. Oddly enough, it looked and tasted like a cheesesteak, just not a very flavorful one. The meat was kind of rubbery and the cheese left a strange aftertaste in my mouth. Then again, so did the restaurant.
Dish: A cheesesteak, masquerading under the stuffy sobriquet "cheeseburger sub," served with stale potato chips
Damage: 7 big ones
Decision: If you're starved, this place will satiate your hunger with a range of culinary choices including pizza, stromboli, buffalo wings, club sandwiches, pasta, seafood platters and salads. But don't expect great customer service or sinfully delectable food. Come hungry or don't come at all.
Entering this greasy spoon is like walking into a typical breakfast dive, what with the rows of endless wooden booths. But right before you get to the counter to place your order, you have to sidestep several racks of neatly displayed chips. In addition, an entire corner dedicated to refrigerated cases contains soft drinks in true convenience-store style.
The owner, Andrew Makris, was running back and forth in what I assume was typical Friday-night manager mania. Being short-staffed and full of orders did not a happy host make, but daughter Megan was quick to recommend Pepe's cheeseburger sub. I was feeling hungry and easy, so I acquiesced.
As my order was slapped onto the stainless steel grills, I watched in amusement while the short-order cooks deftly snatched down order tickets, cast sidelong glances at them, whipped up the plate and quickly slid it down to the cashier. It was a fast-food assembly line of greased competence.
Other than the cooks and their sometimes obnoxious banter there is not much to be said about the ambiance in this place. There's no artwork on the walls, unless you count the weird pyramid of syrup carafes on a side table. Stacks of Styrofoam food containers decorate the front counter, and an intrusive security camera stares rudely in your face while you eat. Then there's the out-of-place ice cream freezer that looks like it walked away from a convenience store, too.
In all fairness to the establishment, its minimalist take may be due to the fact it was once a drive-thru, many moons ago. But that does not excuse the fact that nearly every table was covered with the crumbs of meals past. How long had they been there -- hours, days, weeks? Seriously, where's a busboy when you need one?
Just as I was becoming preoccupied with things that would kill my appetite, my cheeseburger sub arrived. Oddly enough, it looked and tasted like a cheesesteak, just not a very flavorful one. The meat was kind of rubbery and the cheese left a strange aftertaste in my mouth. Then again, so did the restaurant.
Dish: A cheesesteak, masquerading under the stuffy sobriquet "cheeseburger sub," served with stale potato chips
Damage: 7 big ones
Decision: If you're starved, this place will satiate your hunger with a range of culinary choices including pizza, stromboli, buffalo wings, club sandwiches, pasta, seafood platters and salads. But don't expect great customer service or sinfully delectable food. Come hungry or don't come at all.
