I'll come up with something in a minute.

I have now added “Dry Aged Steak” to my repertoire

Hey, internet, have you heard about dry aging beef?

I’d heard about it before, and even tried it once last year, but I got it wrong. Today, I got it RIGHT and oooooh man! This is clearly how steak is supposed to taste. I didn’t even notice at first that my steak was basically rare. The texture is so different that I wasn’t aware of the doneness level. See, one of the things that puts me off rare steak is how damn chewy is can be, no other word for it. However, as I’ve said, the texture was so different that I didn’t even notice until I happened to look down and see that the steak was a dark mahogany color, which I normally eschew. It tasted good though, and it didn’t have that raw meat ickyness I don’t like, so I shrugged and kept eating. I was really pleased with the result.

It’s pretty easy to do. You get a good piece of steak, rub salt all over both sides and let it sit (uncovered) in the refrigerator, on the lowest shelf please. You’ll need to have it on some kind of rack so that all sides of the meat are exposed. Put paper towel under the rack, just incase of juice flow. Now, from what I understand, 7 days is probably the maximum you need. I went with four days. On day one, I put salt all over both sides. On day two I turned the steaks over, putting more salt on both sides. One day three and four I turned the steaks, but didn’t add any more salt*.

Then I cooked them like I would normally, seared in a pan and popped in the oven for a few minutes. We had it with a tomato sauce I’d made and some pasta, but next time I think potatoes and a whisky cream sauce will be more the order. The steak has such a strong flavor (in a good way) that it doesn’t need to have the tomato sauce fighting for prominence.

Mostly I’ve only ever seen people do this with large hunks of meat, like three pounds of prime rib or something, but the little steaks I was working with turned out admirably. The only thing is that you have an obvious time element to work with. This is a planned meal, and you have to know you want it at least three days in advance. Not a big deal, it’s no thanksgiving turkey scenario where you have the soak the motherfucker in brine for a month before you even begin to drown a baby duck in rabbit tears if you want this to turn out right, but you do need to plan when you’re going to eat and all that.

So yeah, point being, dry aging: it works bitches.

Go tell the world.

*The last time I tried, I added salt everyday, which resulted in a steak that tasted of nothing but salt and it was terrible.

October 10, 2011 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Why I Hate Man Food

When I hear the phrase Man Food, what I really hear is… “I’m a MAN! And I’m gonna prove I’m a MAN by eating lots of BEEF and RIBS and things! Because I’m a MAN and not a faggit and I sure don’t want to be fucked up the ass or nothing. I’ll prove how straight I am by eating loads of hotdogs and drinking beer and OH GOD PLEASE SOMEONE SODOMIZE ME! I need it so bad… my butt is waiting.”

So yeah, talking about Man Food sort of makes me think you’re very, very gay. I know, I know, I shouldn’t use gay as a pejorative, and I’m not really. Nothing wrong with being gay, so long as you know what you are and accept the fact. It’s when men try to prove themselves to be Extra Manly with Manly Sauce that I stat looking at them and shout “GAY!” because if you were really confident that you’re a hetro man, you wouldn’t be trying so hard to convince both me and yourself.

Few things are as pervasive as the gender identity roles for men. They extend far further than you think, run much deeper than we’ve previous suspected and are far, far more stringent than those for women. While the consequences for women might be much direr in the long run, many of those consequences revolve around men who are unable to escape the grasp of their gender identity. So really, I shouldn’t make fun of guys who can’t let go of pork ribs and football, but they all come off as so amazingly gay to me. Even though, really, it’s an expression of desperation and fear from someone who probably isn’t gay, but is terrified of being perceived as gay… and I just called them gay. Yeah, you can’t fucking win. Might as well wear a pink angora sweater and ride a big penis shaped rocket while waving your hat Slim Pickens style. If someone is going to call you gay no matter what you do, then why pretend?

And all of this is a side issue to the fact that women eat ribs and chili and drink beer and burp and have even been known to get into football of all things. How can it be Man Food if girls are allowed to eat it? And, is there any such thing as woman food? Quiche? Strawberry Cheesecake? Calzones? Oysters? Tacos? Cherry Pie? Orchids? Cellos? Perhaps two semi-spherical mounds of panna cotta set next to each other with a cherry on each one? No… that’s too Caucasian-Centric, and I’m already being quite hetro-normative with this as it is. Besides not even all white chicks have pink nipples and certainly not cherry red ones.

October 10, 2011 Posted by | Uncategorized | | Leave a comment