You've gotta hand it to the Philly cheesesteak - only a few crave-inducing sandwiches are so iconic that they've become synonymous with their city of origin. Of course, you might reasonably question what this notoriously greasy gut rocket has actually done for Philadelphia's reputation. What's not debatable is the wide appeal and staying power of the cheesesteak, said to have been created in 1930 by Pat Olivieri of the legendary and still-busy Pat's King of Steaks.

You've gotta hand it to the Philly cheesesteak - only a few crave-inducing sandwiches are so iconic that they've become synonymous with their city of origin. Of course, you might reasonably question what this notoriously greasy gut rocket has actually done for Philadelphia's reputation. What's not debatable is the wide appeal and staying power of the cheesesteak, said to have been created in 1930 by Pat Olivieri of the legendary and still-busy Pat's King of Steaks.

Kinda like a cheeseburger on steroids, the cheesesteak still ignites bragging-rights battles and turf wars between competitors in its hometown. In Columbus, Sandman's Cheesesteaks, an Arena District newcomer, is making a strong case that it's the king of titanic, Philly-inspired tummy torpedos in Central Ohio.

Mirroring classic Philly joints such as Pat's, Sandman's often attracts a line that snakes past its outdoor tables and leads to its window-ordering setup. The similarities don't end there, as Sandman's sources the famous rolls from Amoroso's, a venerated Philadelphia bakery, to whip up fare that tastes like the real Philly deal.

A good place to start on the simple menu is with the eponymous - and enormous - Sandman's Steak sandwich ($9.75). The hulking, soft-yet-firm Amoroso's roll arrives generously stuffed with lean, good-tasting "single-source black angus sirloin" chopped on the griddle with sautéed onions. A sprinkling of hot peppers and lotsa melted American cheese provide a yin and yang zing. Supplying more authenticity and the tangy glue that holds the irresistible thing together is Philly-mandated Cheez Whiz. I've had my share of cheesesteaks from Pat's, and Sandman's matches it note for gloriously sloppy note.

Another beloved Philadelphia sandwich destination - John's Roast Pork - is the apparent inspiration for Sandman's lusty Roasted Pork Sammich ($8.75). This time, the Amoroso's roll gets packed with tender, rosemary-scented, good-quality shaved pork. Gilding the piggy are shredded provolone and lotsa garlicky sautéed spinach. The menu also lists "natural juices," which would've been welcome but weren't evident on my otherwise delicious sandwich.

Sandman's - which serves excellent hand-cut fries of the crunchy, non-greasy, golden-brown variety ($2.50 buys a ton) - stays open until 1 a.m. on weekends. I can't think of a better way to celebrate or, more likely, ease the pain after a nearby Blue Jackets game than by devouring a Sandman's sandwich and fries in true Philly style: late at night and three sheets to the wind.