Here’s a shocker: The French dip isn’t French.

It harks back to Los Angeles in the early 20th Century. Cole’s Pacific Electric Buffet and Philippe the Original — both of which opened in 1908 and are still in business — claim to have invented the sandwich, which features sliced roast beef on a French roll, served “au jus” (with juice), for dipping.

Me, I’m going with Philippe. Sounds more French. And it’s “the original.” Although I do favor the Cole’s origin story: that a sympathetic chef added the jus for a customer complaining of sore gums.

At any rate, the French Dip has endured. Over the years, most versions have come to include cheese (usually Swiss) and maybe grilled onions. Our two contestants are: Harvey’s 4th Street Grill in St. Pete and Miller’s Ale House, with two locations in Tampa and one in St. Pete (and 114 overall; I had no idea).

HARVEY’S 4TH STREET GRILL

I hadn’t been to Harvey’s in eons so was somewhat surprised to see it packed at 6:30 Tuesday.

The place has been open since 1984 — which was probably about the time I first went — and it looks as if all ownership has changed are the lightbulbs. And why should they change? Harvey’s remains a go-to joint for denizens of northeast St. Pete — the senior set, if our visit was any indication, many of whom have likely been regulars since early days. I didn’t check IDs, but the eye test told me that there was one couple in the place under the age of 60.

Harvey’s is dark and pubby, the kind of place where waitresses call you “hon’.” We managed to score a two-top in the main dining room. I got coleslaw as a side dish for my French Dip Sandwich ($15.70).

Appearance

This version resembled just about any French Dip ever served. The requisite bowl of deep brown juice elbowed its way onto the plate with the sandwich, the slaw and a big beautiful wedge of dill pickle.

Taste and Texture

I look for three basic things in a French Dip. Let’s do a Harvey’s checklist:

Tender beef piled high, thinly sliced, with no gristle or fatty parts. Check.

A fluffy roll that’s easy to chew. Check.

A jus that’s full of potent flavor but not overly salty. Check.

No check mark for the Swiss cheese, though, which made scant impression. And the onion was barely there (I could’ve used some more). The slaw was just how I like it: finely chopped, not too mayo’d, and with a hint of sweetness.

MILLER’S ALE HOUSE

We’ve driven by the St. Pete MAH, located in the Gateway Mall on MLK Street, innumerous times, but neither Bonnie nor I could recall ever going there. We walked in at 2 p.m. Thursday and what jumped out at us was how big this place is. Take out the booths and the bar and you could play some full-court hoops.

The dining room, split in two by a sizeable bar, is floor-to-ceiling dark(ish) wood. We sat in a booth — there are mostly booths — near a window, and decided to split the Prime Rib French Dip ($17.79), with fries on the side (no coleslaw available).

Inoffensive pop music played on a speaker over our table, but at a moderate volume. I did hear that 1974 yacht-rock chestnut by the band Ace … (We pause for a round of Name That Song) That’s right: “How Long” (“has this been going on?”). I survived it.

Appearance

No surprise, the sandwich looked similar to the one at Harvey’s — except: I could see onions. An encouraging sign. The fries were long and pulpy and flecked with pepper.

Taste and Texture

This sandwich checked all the same boxes as the one at Harvey’s. So, in all, an estimably edible French dip.

There were a few differences. The beef was not shaved as uniformly as the Harvey’s sandwich, making it a little sloppier. While the cheese was all but undetectable, the onions were really there, adding a genial crunchiness to what is by nature a soggy sandwich.

The jus was not too salty, but in an unexpected turn, I didn’t find it quite salty enough. This juice was a touch short on potency.

The fries were first-rate, plump and and full of potato flavor.

And the Winner of the Juicy French Dip Fracas Is …

Harvey’s 4th Street Grill.

By the thinnest of margins. Each sandwich was top-notch. I feel slightly bad having to choose a winner. But the FFF bylaws prohibit ties. And besides, as we like to say here at FFF: There are no losers, only runners-up. And this one was the closest decision I can remember.

Maybe it was that big beautiful dill pickle.