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The steak sandwich, invented in Philadelphia in 1930 when piping hot, griddled, chopped meat was slapped on a hoagie roll by Pat Olivieri, only later evolved to include this infamous "cheese" accoutrement. Whiz, not surprisingly, wasn't even around then. It took a team of food scientists at Kraft in Madison, Wisconsin to create the viscous orange goo that today graces our Amoroso rolls. Soon after its development in 1953, Cheez Whiz made it onto our famous Philadelphian fare, and since then, it has smoothly flowed into cheesesteak ubiquity.

What is it about Cheez Whiz that makes it a great pairing for the steak sandwich? Many people who eat it on steaks hardly consider it cheese at all, and probably wouldn't buy it for home consumption. Something about the phrase pasteurized process cheese sauce strikes loathing into the hearts of cheese-lovers everywhere. However, depending on whom you ask, the other common cheese choices, American and Provolone, do not an authentic cheesesteak make. There's something in that orange cheese sauce that does it. Does the flowing texture of Whiz become the perfect carrier of flavors, allowing the great steak taste to more fully coat the mouth? Is there some special additive, which, when combined with the rendered steak fat, chemically converts into a pleasure-inducing psychoactive compound?
We endeavor to find out.

Unfortunately, the ingredient list is not all that revealing:

Milk And Part-Skim Milk, Water, Whey, Milkfat,

Given Whiz's unnatural appearance, one might be surprised to find there is anything in it actually resembling a natural cheese. But here we are: milk, right up there on the ingredient list. Combined with the Enzymes listed further down, we've got ourselves cheese. Indeed, by federal regulation, pasteurized process cheese is defined as having 51% cheese ingredient (scraps of Colby, cheddar, cheese curd or other cheeses) by weight, a moisture content of less than 43% and a milkfat content of greater than 47%. Whey is a little surprising to see as an ingredient, since we usually think of it as being removed in the cheese-making process. Here, it provides additional proteins which create a smoother and more stable texture, especially when heat is applied—perfect for our steak.

Sodium Phosphate.

Process cheese spreads and sauces like Velveeta and Whiz, which have a higher moisture content, include an emulsifier to stabilize the milkfat suspension in that additional liquid. In Whiz this is sodium phosphate, a compound which latches on to protein-bound calcium molecules in the cheese, causing the protein molecules to dissociate and spread out, emulsifying the mixture. This is the industrial equivalent of adding wine to a good Gruyere and Edam fondue, producing the same result by a similar mechanism. Phosphate salts also have anti-microbial properties, keeping that can of Whiz bacteria free!

Surprisingly, that's it for the main ingredients. Every other ingredient is found as 2% or less of the total weight. These are:

Dried Corn Syrup, Salt,

It would be more shocking if these weren't in a mainstream American food product.

Worcestershire Sauce (Vinegar, Water, Molasses, Corn Syrup, Salt, Sugar, Caramel Color, Dried Garlic, Spice, Anchovies, Tamarind),

The anchovies and tamarind might add that special twang that we expect from good sharp cheddar, without actually waiting for the cheese to age.

Natural Preservative, Annatto (Color),

Again, ubiquitous.

Oleoresin Paprika.

Now there is an ingredient. Oleoresin? Many flavor compounds are only oil-soluble--maybe this does help to transport the meaty flavors of the steak and the caramelized flavors of the fried onion. And paprika? Capsaicin, the compound responsible for the spicy heat of peppers (and paprika) actually targets pain receptors in the mouth. It's thought that this causes the body to release endorphins, creating a pleasurable euphoric sensation. Is this the flavor-transporting, happiness-inducing ingredient we have been looking for?
No.
As it turns out, oleoresin paprika is nothing more than a natural colorant derived from dried red chilies, which can be used to add vibrant color to any food with a liquid fat phase. That certainly applies to Cheez Whiz. Not only is it devoid of pain-inducing capsaicin, it doesn't even contribute flavor to the final product. What a disappointment.

So what explains Philadelphia's love affair wit' Whiz? Apparently it's nothing in the ingredient list, but maybe something even more fundamental. Something in the smell of fried onions permeating the air in front of Jim's on South Street. Something in the glitz of Pat's and Geno's, competing side by side, 24 hours a day, for decades past. Something about the commonality of a corner store steak, available to all, in any part of the city. A cheesesteak satisfies not only our hunger, but our love of tradition. Dripping with Whiz—that melted-by-design, cheesy sauce—it is unique. It unites us as Philadelphians like no other food can.

Whiz wit', as they say.