Whoa. Whoa. Whoa and Whoa.
See I disagree with two things in Frannie’s steak post this past Friday.
First, I don’t believe he DOES think we should eat our steaks any way we want. Absolutely no way, no how, no question about it. Frannie especially, and sometimes Marty, take great pleasure in steak-shaming poor Robert. Great pleasure. It’s pure bigotry. Nothing but. I constantly endure such rude comments, seemingly designed to do nothing but shame me for my food choices and cancel my decision to eat my steak as I see fit.
That’s right. Frannie is impeding upon my God-given right to eat steak the way I want it. I can’t recall the last time we had steak together where it did not happen.
Frannie is a steak bully.
There. I said it.
Second, I do NOT eat my steak “at the fullest version of well-done” as Frannie accuses. Nor are my steaks “burned lumps of what could have been such near-perfect deliciousness” as he so blithely accuses me.
I simply do not like pink steak meat. I do not want my steaks charred, dry or the texture of leather. Nor do I want it mooing at me when I cut into it. When making my own steaks (and at a few rare restaurants), I am perfectly able to make my steak with no pink in the middle, yet still juicy and flavorful. It takes no skill to give someone a raw piece of meat or make it into shoe leather. My preference earns me no end of calumny by Frannie.
Perhaps I should spend some time commenting about the sheer craziness of putting sauce on a steak? Sauce? WTH!? If you’re going to smother your steak in cold A1 from the fridge, what’s the difference in how you cook the meat? For my money, drizzled real butter is the only thing you should pour over a steak.
But you’ll never see or hear me castigate my brothers for ruining their perfectly good steaks. If that’s the way they want their steak, have at it. I’ll even make their steaks that way without comment.
