This is sports related, eventually.
Rarely, I know I'm going to have a bad week at work. When I am tipped off, I move my pride and joy from the freezer to the fridge - a 20oz. porterhouse.
See, I know broiling steaks almost as well as I know women. I calculate the thickness of the meat, the bone to flesh ratio, the proper margin between the meat and the heat, how much I need to pound it out, and the amount of time I'll need to get it juicy without drying it out or toughening it up. This time, it all went wrong.
Everything started well. I dusted the optimal flame surface (the side with less marbling) with a fine deposit of black pepper, Old Bay, and a couple drops of Tabasco. I preheated the gas broiler, without the pan of course, and was ready to go. The first side, I'd calculated, would need 5 minutes to color, just enough time to let the exiting juices adhere to the base spices. It was perfect. The steak lifted off the foil and flipped perfectly, exposing a bright pink underbelly to complement the seared now-bottom.
Having gotten the sear time correct, I knew I needed exactly 8 minutes on the other side to get a perfect medium rare. I set the timer, and walked away triumphantly.Except this is a new oven (to me). The timer gives off the weakest beep, like a smoke alarm on the battery's last gasp. I got caught up in, [gulp], Judge Judy, and lost track of time. That's fine though, because the smell of cooked meat is an infallible backup plan...unless you live in a house without central air and the air conditioning units aren't turned on because it's a beautiful 80-degree day. Without the timer, without the smell of succulent porterhouse, and without my own sense of timing due to a riveting eviction case on Judge Judy, the meat was lost.
I did not cry, though I should have. I never anticipated the highlight of my meal would be the Green Giant Broccoli and Cauliflower in low-fat cheese sauce. (That, by the way, is very good and only 150 calories for a whole frozen box.) I couldn't have wasted $20 faster if I had scalped Nats-Mets tickets behind home plate.
Without further adieu, the following things are worse than burning a $20 porterhouse:
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- Being a national title contender and losing to Appalachian State
- Bill Buckner
- Being a Browns fan
That's it; the only three things that will make you feel worse than burning a good steak. To quote Don Imus, "I wish I hadn't done that". The real injustice is that Al Sharpton will not force me to be fired. No one will stage rallies. No one will publish biographies. This is a personal hell I must endure alone, at least until I go back to the local Super Giant.
13 Responses:
Can we please have a moment of silence for the steak please?
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Thank you.
Proceed with whatever it is that you were doing.
I know you're trying to bait me, but it's not going to work. At least not on this particular entry.
I like steak well-done. Too bad I wasn't in town for tea. I would have bought the steak off you for $10.
So, what you're saying is that you don't like steak at all? Might I suggest a nice bag of Kingsford charcoal?
Wow. This gets my vote for gayest blog post ever. Our blog actually just combined sports with cooking and it's not like one of those clever Food Network shows that travels to different NFL and NCAA tailgates.
Jeremy said: Wow. This gets my vote for gayest blog post ever. Our blog actually just combined sports with cooking and it's not like one of those clever Food Network shows that travels to different NFL and NCAA tailgates.
I ask you, the gentlemen readers of this fine blog, which is gayer: posting about a steak lost? or not recognizing the pain of destroying a fine cut of meat?
And this would not qualify as well done in any restaurant. This was BURNED on one side, and jerky-dry on the other.
Ben said "I like steak well-done."
Well, sir, you have never had a steak...you have been eating the equivalent of a grilled hockey puck. As it loses juice, it loses flavor. Every minute that you cook that thing, it loses juice. It loses its flavor, and loses what makes it steak. There is only one way to eat steak: bloody freakin rare. Still mooing when it comes to your plate. Nothing more done than medium-rare is an acceptable way to eat a steak.
Addendum: If you want a steak well done, dont waste a porterhouse or something of actual quality or with taste...go get a goddamn London Broil for $2 a pound...well done, they will taste the same.
Ruining a steak is worse than being a Browns fan, neither shall know greatness again.
And why is being upset over the loss of a great piece of meat considered gay? If he had lost a fine piece of say, brie, sure. But it was a steak, not brie.
Don't worry. I'm not that picky about the grade of my hockey pucks.
I can't say I feel your pain about the burning of your steak, since I am a vegetarian but I know when you have a rough day and all you can think about is that one item tucked in the frig with your name all over it and you come home and find that someone has already ate that item...then there is a reason to being pissed. with me, it is a piece of vegetable pie and a cool drink watching Judge Joe Brown. In reference to another blog of yours, why didn't anybody pick a winner in the Michigan and Notre Dame game. For us, it has been a busy week, the pit has been dug, charcoal is bought, coals are hot, all we need is Carr and the meal is set. If you listen real close, that is not Michigan theme song playing in the back but carr's swan song.
Red, I feel that I should notify you that your post inspired me. 14oz. of beautifully marbled ribeye now reside in my gullet.
You know what I always say: a ribeye in the gullet is slightly better than a ribeye in your dog's gullet.
Did you pan fry it, or did the local truck stop do that for you?
I actually grilled it. Fucker.
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