I have this fear of steak. Not a fear-fear, like in a weird phobia and creepy steak-nightmares or anything, but as in fear of cooking it and failing. I guess you could say I’m intimidated by the steak. It probably has something to do with that it’s so few steps involved: sear it, season it, bake it. It should be simple, but it’s so easy to end up with something too tough, too dry, too burnt. If you fail with your steak, there’s no way of hiding it.
I cook a lot and I like to try new things, you might have guessed this by now. A while back, I made this solemn vow to try at least one new recipe per week in order to evolve as a cook. Preferably something challenging (which sometimes ends like this). So, enter the steak. Not in a casserole, not in pastry. Just the plain old lump of meat. Key, I’ve understood, is good product, so I went to the market hall and got some great beef from a local farm. I love the market hall. I love strolling around, looking at the counters and tasting samples. I love buying meat from the butcher and fish from the fishmonger. If I didn’t have to work and make money and could spend all day preparing dinner, I would do all of my shopping there, but that’s another story,
Anyways, back to the steak. For those of you who, like me, are less than confident in the steak making, here’s how I did: I left the meat out in room temperature for a while before I put it in a pan and then I seared it on high temperature in butter and olive oil, a couple of minutes on each side. Then I baked it in the oven to 54 degrees Celsius. Then I let it rest. Then I cut it. Then I ate it. It tasted fantastic.
As you can see, it was pretty simple. I don’t know why I’ve been so convinced it wasn’t. A monkey could do this. I know I’ve said this before, but no one remembers a coward. So let’s go out there and be brave! No more fears in the kitchen. (Except maybe flambéing. That seems scary for real.)