It seems logical that the honor of writing the first guest post on my blog fell to Husband, a talented writer and a grammar nazi, who reads my every post and mercilessly removes comas and errant semi-colons that I adore. And I appreciate his ardor.
Man. Grill. Meat. These three things are extensions of each other and, properly combined, are completely capable of rendering a delicacy that justifies existence itself. But I didn’t always think so.
I didn’t much care for meat when I was a kid. My dad grilled fairly often, but it would generally go something like this: My mother would buy the cheapest cut of meat on sale at the grocery store. Or my father would kill something. A squirrel, rabbit, possum, anything that wandered into his traps or stumbled into his sights.
My father would prepare for an afternoon of grilling by having a beer. And another. He’d stack the coals and dowse them with lighter fluid. The fumes would kill every appetite within a country mile of the place. While the fire raged, the meat would be hooked up with a dry rub or marinade of some kind. Of course, you really need to leave red meat for 24 to 48 hours for the marinade to penetrate, but that takes planning. A twenty minute soak and another beer does not require a scheme.
After the coals finally burned down and ashed over, around the fourth beer, the meat would go on the grill. And there it would stay. And stay. No, not yet. Another beer.
My mother liked her meat well done. That is not to say that she liked it done well, but that she preferred it to resemble a worn old wingtip to the greatest extent possible. So, well after sunset, around beer number seven or eight, the cheapest cut of steak legally available to be consumed by humans would hit the plates, almost indistinguishable from the charcoal briquettes that had begun the ceremony and reeking of petroleum.
My mother would tell my father that this was the best steak ever. Steak? Mystery solved. And I would chew and gnaw and eventually end up with a plate filled with masticated leather scraps.
When I grew up, I didn’t much care for meat and was practically a vegetarian. I didn’t mind killing animals, I just didn’t see the point if they weren’t going to be delicious. It was years before I discovered that there were wonderful cuts of meat and that they could be grilled rare, letting the wonderful flavors actually survive the process.
While I can appreciate a good rib eye from time to time, I love filet mignon. I prefer to purchase it from the butcher at the local Persian store. Their meat has to be Halal and is of excellent quality. I have the butcher trim off any fat or silver skin. I always remember to tip my butcher a buck or two. He makes sure I always get excellent meat and will advise against a purchase if he is not confident of the quality.
No gas. Let’s get that out of the way right now. No propane. No lighter fluid. No instant light or light-the-bag briquettes. It makes no sense to pick out the finest meat available if it’s going to taste like petrol. In fact, no briquettes of any kind. I buy natural mesquite charcoal at the same ethnic store where I buy my steaks, and yes, it makes a difference. Besides, a seven pound bag is three bucks and change.
No marinade. No dry rub. I cut the steaks to about an inch and a half thick, sprinkle some kosher salt on both sides, and let them sit a while.
And the fire? Before you start any fire, always make sure there are two things available to you: a fire extinguisher and an adult beverage. Then proceed with that most basic step of civilization, the creation of fire.
When we bought the grill, we also bought a Weber chimney. The chimney is like large steel can, open on both ends, but with a perforated floor a few inches from one end. Three or four wadded up balls of newspaper or grocery store flyers are inserted into the shallow end. A quarter cup of vegetable oil is poured onto the newspaper. The chimney is then inverted and the large side filled with charcoal. Simply light the paper. The vegetable oil will insure that the paper burns long enough and hot enough to start the coals on the other side of the perforated floor. Once the flames go down and the coals are ready, I simply grab the chimney by the handle and pour the beautiful orange coals into the grill. I don’t usually clean the grill itself until this point. I replace the top grate and let the last of the flames sterilize it. Then I take the steel brush to it. This leaves a nice carbon residue that makes awesome marks on the meat.
I can eat a filet raw, but having gone to all the trouble, I will walk it by the fire on the way to my plate. I like to take a paper towel and pat the steaks dry before putting them on the grill. Lana prefers her steak mid-rare, so I put hers on first. Half way through the cook time for the first side, I turn the meat ninety degrees so that it gets nice crosshatching. Then, when I flip hers over, I add mine.
The embers from natural charcoal do not last as long as briquettes. Briquettes last longer than they need to and pulling the meat off after only a few minutes to leave those beautiful embers glowing for another hour seems so wasteful. While natural charcoal doesn’t last near as long, the embers are still sufficient for an aluminum foil pouch of potatoes or vegetables, toasting garlic bread, or even roasting a handful of red peppers. But there’s no time to dawdle or get tanked, though I think there is an ordinance somewhere that no charcoal fire may be started without a beer or glass of red wine available to the grill master and I try to be a law abiding citizen.
There is something primal about grilling meat over an open flame, something that sates the testosterone driven pyromania that is too often sidelined or sacrificed to the niceties of modern life. But that drunken instinct to set things on fire can be harnessed and brought into the service of refined appetites… even one as recently refined as mine.
I am contributing this post to Get Grillin!, an event hosted by Dara of Cookin’ Canuck, and Marla of Family Fresh Cooking.
“Get Grillin’ with Family Fresh Cooking and Cookin’ Canuck, sponsored by Ile de France Cheese, Rösle,Emile Henry, Rouxbe and ManPans.”
Perfect first guest post by your husband! So funny “man. grill. meat” definitely a summer staple! Happy Grilling!
Karriann Graf recently posted..Steamed Mussels Recipe
Lana, this tenderloin looks amazing! I love a great steak. Thanks for linking it up to Get Grillin’
It seems that men around the world still have not lost the primal instinct to barbecue. It is the same here. We love our open fires, as your wife surely explained. A perfect cut of meat does not need anything but salt and pepper, but that goes for a perfect cut. My dad once, while we were in the States made a little blind taste test with us. We could not tell apart what we ate, chicken, beef, pork…only the fish was distinguishable from the rest. Store bought…no quality. I find that is why all those extra ingredients were invented, seasoning I mean, to cover up the tasteless meal. That is why Jamie Oliver puts so much herbs in his meat. At the end you only taste the seasoning.
What an honor to be a first guest post, and I hope you will be a regular guest on this blog. A little bit of man’s point of view could not hurt!
Jelena recently posted..
I LOVE this post. I think we would get along well. We definitely have the same idea about overcooked steak and seem to share the same sense of humour! Btw, Great looking Filet =)
@alanecooke
Alan Cooke recently posted..I Aint Grillin Empty Handed!
I believe it’s a law in Australia that if you put a steak on the bbq you must have beer.
Wonderful post!
Maureen recently posted..Baby Potatoes with Creamy Garlic Sauce
Hey. He’s funny! Great Q also. GREG
hi Lana! I tried to subscribe by email but it says you do not have email subscriptions enabled? just thought you might want to know!
Hi Lana! Love the guest post by the hubs! The first (second, third) time I tried to get outdoor grilling times out of my hubby for a recipe, he shoo’d me away. (I think it still annoys him.) Great blog!
I need my husband to read this!
Great guest post!
Ilke recently posted..Any Berry Cake…
Amazing post. You two are a perfect pair, it seems. Growing up my mother wouldn’t let me eat any meat that wasn’t cooked into show leather and I too thought there was nothing particularly special about it … until I learned the joys of rare/mid-rare meat. Oh my. I may not have testosterone, but I hold “woman. grill. meat” pretty close to my heart!
What a great guest post! I like my filet raw, but I suppose I could grill it too, if I went through all the trouble of starting a fire. Would you guys mind sharing the address for the local Persian market? I actually know THREE different people who shop there regularly, but I’ve lost the address.
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