Eating Right Philly Cheesesteak Stuffed Sandwich

Price: $2.00 (on sale)
Serving: 4 oz. (2 sandwiches per box)
Calories: 250 per serving
Fat: 11%, 7g
Cholesterol: 5%, 15mg
Sodium: 23%, 550mg
Protein: 11g
Carbohydrates: 12%, 35g
Fiber: 16%, 4g
Sugar: 3g
Weight Watchers Points: 5 Points

Eating Right says: Beef strips and fat free mozzarella cheese in a flaky crust.

Alex says: I did not have high expectations for this meal. In my book, it doesn’t have a lot going for it. It’s an Eating Right meal, it costs all of two dollars, and tries to take a delicious but terribly unhealthy food and put it into a nice, mass-produced, nutritionally sound package. I think that we should all know by now that in the frozen food world, this has “fail” written all over it. To fully expose the stuffed pocket of awful that is this meal, I will break it down into its components.

Let’s start with the beef strips. The list of ingredients tells me that there is indeed beef in this here sandwich, specifically “cooked beef strips ground and formed (contains up to 15% of a seasoning solution of…blah blah blah).” I’m sure this sounds terribly appetizing to you, reader. To make it sound even more appetizing, I will tell you that these beef strips resembled ham in both flavor and texture much more than they did beef.

Next comes the “fat free mozzarella cheese.” For the sake of accuracy, I’m going to rename this component “watery dairy-like substance.” As with any product of its sort, there was not nearly as much cheese in the sandwich as the picture on the box would have you believe, but I was pleasantly surprised with the quantity of quasi-dairyness inside. However, I very much value quality over quantity, and not even an industrial vat of watery dairy-like substance could make this any better.

Before having to put any of this food in my mouth, I had hope for the flaky crust. While microwaving the sandwich, the meal actually smelled of real, bona fide bread. Needless to say, I was amazed. After all, Hot Pockets don’t waft bread-scented air towards your nose while cooking, but I would rather eat a Hot Pocket any day over this. The crust was indeed flaky, but for lack of a better way of putting this, not in a good way. Not that I was expecting buttery, pie crust-y flakiness, but I would rather have flat, soggy crust than the unsettling dry blandness present here.

There is one more component to this sandwich: what’s missing. Everyone knows that a Philly Cheesesteak contains ample amounts of onions and peppers along with cheese and beef. You probably can’t see them in the picture, but the box depicts several pieces of onion in the sandwich. I had one dime-sized piece of onion in mine. What’s really missing, however, is the peppers. There may have only been one measly piece of onion, but its onion flavor was semi-present throughout the sandwich. Peppers never came anywhere near the factory.

In conclusion, this sandwich should in no way be used as a substitute for or facsimile of a real, or even semi-real Philly Cheesesteak. However, if you’re after a sandwich with a watery cheese filling with beef strips that seem like they’re not all wrapped up in a scarily dry, flaky crust, this sandwich is for you.

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