Skip to main content

Why did I do this to myself?

So I've been at a work conference all week and haven't done any cooking. On the bright side, it's been nice to not have to worry about cleaning the kitchen, planning meals, prepping, cooking, plating, cleaning, buying, planning, prepping, cooking, plating, and cleaning all the fucking time. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy doing it all. Well, maybe not the goddamn cleaning, but the rest of it.
Anyway, on our last night in Orlando, we had a vendor take us to dinner at STK, and to say that it was a life changing experience may be an understatement. The evening started off well enough with a Czech cab. It was a little dryer than I expected, almost with an Italian bent to it, but I'm no fucking sommelier. As we sipped on the wine, we perused the menu and made our selections.
The bread service came first. It was a couple of fairly ordinary loaves topped with some garlic and herb butter and accompanied by some chimichurri. Nothing spectacular, but pretty damn tasty nonetheless.
Our table's appetizer was "deconstructed" bacon wrapped shrimp. First off, I fucking hate the term "deconstructed;" that, to me, implies that it was constructed and then taken a part. The shrimp was never wrapped in the bacon. Let's just call it "non-constructed" or "preconstructed" or some shit like that. Second, that junt was fucking fire. The shrimp was perfect, the bacon was literally slices of pork belly somewhere between 1/4 and 1/2 inches thick, and the slaw underneath was perfectly adequate. Sorry, but coleslaw has to be really fucking special to tip my meter.
Sides were served family style. The asparagus was alright. I mean, it was fucking asparagus, which has never been one of my favorites. We had crispy Brussels sprouts that were fried with more of that ridiculously thick bacon, and a bowl of truffle fries that were pretty tasty. Enjoyable, but not the best thing I've ever put in my mouth.
With the sides, however, came the entrees, and I had 5 ounces of Japanese A5 fillet cooked to a temperature of blue because if I'm eating something that's 47 fucking dollars per ounce, I'm going all fucking out. It was seasoned simply: some salt and some pepper. It was cooked to perfection. It was the single best piece of cow meat I've ever put in my mouth. One of my ex-girlfriend's dumbass sisters used to talk about living wagyu beef because it was so much better, then would make dry-ass, overseasoned burgers from Aldi ground beef. This was not that bullshit. It was perfection, melting in my mouth with intense, yet not overpowering, flavor. It was damn near a religious experience. Like, how does one ever eat beef again after something like this? 
Somewhere along the way, we switched to the welschriesling, which was a semi-sweet white. For some reason, it reminded me of a German or Austrian wine. It was fine. That's fucking steak, though. I couldn't get it out of my head..
We has desserts and cocktails. I still couldn't get over that steak. I kept going over it in my head, analyzing every detail. See, that's the other thing about not cooking: I spend a lot of time thinking about food, and I've got a few ideas about how to recreate that incredible first bite of fancy-ass magic cow meat with a lower quality piece of beef. And I'm gonna make that shit work. Just wait and see.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I don't understand food

Part 1 the morning after, while eating a sausage, egg, and cheese everything bagel from Bergen Bagels Last night, I had the pleasure, privilege, and audacity to eat at a Brooklyn restaurant named Aska . I know it's cliche to refer to a fancy restaurant meal as a life-changing experience, but this was straight up paradigm-shattering. I've written before about food being a medium of communication, about how I strive to reduce food waste as much as I can, about sharing our cultures and stories with each other through the meals we create, but seeing how Chef Fredrik Berselius is able to do this at such an intricate, elegant, and elevated level is both humbling and inspiring. The experience started before the first bite. I walked into the 10 table restaurant, and they knew me by name. I was shown to my table (right in the middle of the place, looking directly into the open kitchen), and they even pulled my chair out for me and pushed it up under me. I was a little uncomfortable with...
Post a Comment
Read more

Perspective

 I used to drive a 1986 pickup truck that was a heap of trouble on wheels. Mind you, I learned to drive in 2002. That piece of shit loved to just, you know, die. In the middle of intersections. While turning onto side streets. While accelerating from a stop sign. While braking for a stop sign. While cranking. It just died whenever it felt like it. It had AM radio and hand crank windows. That's literally it. No FM, no AC or heat. There were seatbelts for 2 of the 3 seats. I fucking hated that truck. On the other hand, it was my truck. I drove it to church, to work, and to the library; that was as far as I was allowed to take it, and I took it all of those places. I remember the first time I got it to idle while parked. I remember singing "The Prayer" over its dying engine multiple times. I think my younger brother probably has some flashbacks of some of those moments. But, as old, beaten up, shitty, annoying, and objectively terrible as it was, it sure was nice to have it ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Why not give a shit?

About a month ago, I cooked up a big pot of a miso vegan stew. It was a Sunday evening, so I knew I needed to cook enough for Sunday night dinner and Monday's lunch. A vendor was taking us out for dinner on Monday, so I needed enough to cover Tuesday's lunch, too. I had plans with a friend on Tuesday night, so I wouldn't have time to cook, so I needed enough for Tuesday dinner and Wednesday lunch, too, so I said, and I quote, "Fuck it. I'll just cook enough for the week." Unfortunately, as I packed away my leftovers that night, I realized that I cooked enough for a week and a half. Normally, that wouldn't be a huge issue, except that I was leaving town Friday morning and wouldn't be back until Monday evening and did not have room in my freezer to store more than a bowl. Luckily, I was able to pawn a few bowls off on coworkers, so it all worked out alright. However, when I told this story to someone close to me, they said I should think about donating t...
1 comment
Read more