I was hungry for the taste of red meat, which Mrs. Pic never serves any more. My carnivorous nature was beckoning and it had to be satisfied lest true ugliness set in.
So I decided that I had to take responsibility for my own dinner. Mrs. Pic seemed disappointed, as she had planned something wholesome for me, but she knew better than get between me and the red flesh of a dead animal when I was in this mood.
I wanted to return to my basic roots and be a primitive man again, and the Outback Steak House was far too civilized. They serve steak dinners there and no matter what they say, they, nor for that matter, any other restaurants really have a clue. Besides, in a restaurant, you are expected to behave and use table manners, and in the mood I was in that was out of the question. On top of that, I wasn’t looking for a steak as most people recognize it.
I was craving fire-blackened flesh.
Screw a bunch of stoves, skillets, ovens, oven mitts and the like. Piss on this ‘preheat the oven to 350 degrees crap! And none of this King S Ford charcoal business, either. While we’re at it, Hank Hill can kiss my ass because propane is without a doubt totally out of the question.
Time to get seriously back into the basic roots of being a man. None of the frail trappings of civilization, this is food at it’s most basic. Time to apply raw fire to dead flesh!
I will share the evening culinary delight with you.
First, go to the market and don’t even bother with the meat that is in the display case, as the stuff there is only about 3/4s of an inch thick. Summon the meat cutter and ask for a pound and a half, inch and a quarter thick porterhouse. If he’s a savvy meat cutter, he’ll grin and fix you right up. Figure around 15 scoots. While you’re at the market, grab a small can of Bush’s beans. I like the maple syrup kind.
Break out the Weber kettle, but don’t even think of using any charcoal. Charcoal is for civilized people, and if you use it, you’ll ruin everthang. Instead, grab you a pile of wood. Pine is OK. Stack the wood in the Weber, add 1 cup of gasoline, and throw in a match. Take care to do this from a safe distance. Also, take a few seconds to enjoy the ‘Whoosh!’ as the fire takes off.
You may start the prep work as the fire burns a while. This will allow the gasoline to burn off completely. Take this time, also, to stuff an old sock or other rag into your back pocket.
Load your favorite firearm. Another animal may decide that he’s hungry, and a meal like this is worth defending. If you’re in bear country, load for bear. If you’re in the city, load for whatever is likely to try stealing your dinner. Do NOT use too much gun. Being in the suburbs, I found a .375 H&H to be just about right.
Open the meat and season to taste. I dumped some cheap cognac on mine and added some Tony Chachare’s Cajun Seasoning on top of the cognac. With a P-38, K-Bar, Boy Scout knife, wire cutters, or other manly tool, open the bean can 7/8ths of the way and lift the lid straight up. The lid is to be used as a serving handle, so don’t cut it open too far. Do NOT use a kitchen-type can opener or any other newfangled piece of equipment, lest the spirit of the meal be sent to the civilized world.
Put the beans on a cool section of the fire so as not to burn them, but a section warm enough for them to be heated. Let the beans start to warm up.
Now throw the meat on the hottest part of the fire and stand back and enjoy the aroma of burning beef. When the fireside is black and a bit crunchy, flip the steak and when the other side is properly burned, place on the center of a slightly rusty steel pie plate. The steak should still be close to raw in the center. The rust on the plate will also add iron to your diet.
If you have animal activist neighbors, a pretty good way of determining when it’s time to flip the steak is when they complain that it smells like Auschwitz or Bergen-Belsen in your back yard, but I don’t have these problems. My neighbors are pretty good.
Fish the rag out of your back pocket and grab the lid of the bean can carefully and dump the beans all over the steak. Park the plate on your reloading bench and plant your ass on the barstool you picked up when the Fox Trot remodeled. You should only use a fork and a K-bar, or some other utilitarian type knife. Do NOT use a steak knife, as it is too damned civilized.
Wolf it down greedily! Gnaw on the bone and lick the plate clean, washing it down with either cheap beer or good Irish Whisky. Cognac can do in a pinch.
If you licked the plate clean enough, doing the dishes should mean only having to toss out the leftover bones and the can.
I haven’t had a steak in over 3 months, and this is what I had, and damn, if it wasn’t just what the Doctor ordered. Veins in my teeth!
And, yes, I saved a big bite for Kitty. You should have seen HIM tear it up!
This thread is worthless without pics.
I'm severely disappointed in not getting a picture.
I was half expecting to see a bowl of fruit loops for dinner.......one can only hope...
This is, by far, the worst post that Mr. Pic has ever posted.
<BR>Which means that its about 10X better than anyone else's.
BTW: my wife made my son and I 2 1 inch thick rib eye's, rare as hell, for dinner tonight. I read Mr. Pic's post and didn't even break into even minor drooling.
This post was glorious. A triumphant return of man to his carnivorous roots. God bless America.