There are places on TV, in magazines, and on the internet where you can find peer-and-eater-reviewed methods for preparing, cooking, and staging great steaks. Where the people who make the steaks promise that, if you follow their directions, step-by-step, you will have a delicious steak too.
I am not one of those people. This is not one of those places. I began cooking more during the pandemic, and I’ve gotten my methods down to a science. The science of Damon. I only care about how it tastes to me. Not you. Because why should I? What sense does that make, for me, to prepare a thing for my mouth based on what you might think about it? None, that’s how much.
But if you wish to make a steak exactly how I like it, with absolutely no promises that you will, please continue.
First, get the items in this picture.
And then, the shit in this picture too, which could’ve just been the same picture, but I forgot to include the olive oil in the first picture. Which is why there are two pictures now.
Do you see that blue plate in the edge of the second picture? Get you one of those, put some olive oil in it, sprinkle each of the seasonings into the olive oil, and then mix it around with a baby’s spoon. I would have a picture of this process too, but I forgot to take one.
Next, get you a big-ass Flintstone’s-ass piece of meat. The sort of shit you can grip and throw at a home invader. The sort of shit, if you had an MBA or whatever the fuck, you’d order at a restaurant to impress a WHITE MAN your lame ass wants to work for. And then place the meat in the rub, and rub it around the rub, and rub the rub in the meat some more. I also do not have a picture to document this process, because the meat was bigger than the plate, and I should have planned better.
When done with the rub, place the meat in a pre-heated cast iron skillet. I turn it up to high. I don’t know what temperature that is. But it seems quite hot! Also, this is a very large skillet. I could literally kill a person with it. Maybe even a bear too. They should definitely televise men with skillets fighting bears on ESPN this fall instead of the NFL. I’d watch the fuck out of that. Anyway, this meat still doesn’t fit. It’s too big. There’s just too much meat. If the meat doesn’t fit, you must acquit. Eventually, I had to ease the bone in. I think I’ve had enough fun with this paragraph now.
Also, I like to keep a spare watermelon on hand, just to remind people of the struggle. If you’re white you can do this too. I’d much rather you offer me some watermelon instead of your antiracist book recommendations.
Sear the meat for three to five minutes on each side. I like it brown as fuck. Like my liquor. And my SKIN.
When done searing, put the entire skillet in the preheated oven. I heat the oven to 450 degrees, and I usually keep it in for five to seven minutes, but this meat was big as fuck so I had to keep it in longer.
Also, if you have a cute widdle toddler who enjoys chasing death by running next to 450-degree ovens, the cute widdle toddler leg is optional.
After like 16 minutes or whatever, take it out. The USDA recommends that steak be at least 145 degrees before its safe to eat. But 1:45 pm was when Ricky from Boyz n The Hood was shot, so I just round up to 160. The olive oil remaining in the skillet makes a nice liquid of taste to put over the meat if you’re into that sort of thing. Also, I’m not sure why I said “liquid of taste” instead of just saying “juice.”
Anyway, I don’t have any plate pictures or pictures of the meat cut open, because I hadn’t eaten all day and was really hungry. Plus I needed more storage space on my phone. I liked this steak a lot. You might not, but I don’t care!