Name:vanessa Country:United States State:Florida Metro:Miami Birthday:11/13/1984 Gender:Female
Interests:don't know, quite random. food, eclectic music, general thrills, visual art, ungirly sports, new toys (tech, tools, equipment) and really anything not too mellow or boring. Expertise:nothing particularly wonderful. writing legal memos, cooking three-courses in twenty minutes, ps3 driving games, obsessive vacuuming, serial orgasms, earning frequent flyer miles, wasting lots of time on the internet
lately, i haven't been able to get moules frites off my mind. the warm, winey, briny sauce, hot crisp frites, mustard-spiked mayonnaise... mmm.
but i was thwarted. as usual.
my latest supermarket trip involved a beeline to the seafood man, who looked at me apologetically when i asked him, in a manner slightly inappropriate just for groceries, where the mussels were. he shrugged his shoulders and told me "they're on sale, and they're kinda sold out. we have these though." (pointed to frozen mussels)
it was at that point that i became somewhat inconsolable. it's like that day when you read about some chef brushing his pork with a mayonnaise-sriracha glaze, and you go "how very base, but how perfectly wonderful that sounds!" and you hurry out to buy sriracha (which you haven't even bothered with as a condiment in months or years), and they're out of stock, or something. that terrible, disappointed, dejected feeling.
back to moules frites, or rather, on to steak frites. since i was clearly not about to use frozen mussels in my moules frites, but still wanted some element of what i'd been obsessing over for the past day, i wandered over to where the potatoes were to pick out some pretty ones. moseying back over to the other side of the supermarket, i saw the butcher with trays and trays of steak. HANGAR steak. as in, le-steak-et-frites steak. they were on sale. i was happy. i bought steak.
you know, the wonderful thing about french staples is just how simple they are. i always find it curious as to why french food is perceived as difficult, complicated and fussy. compare a simple french tapenade to the american seven-layer dip, or even french apple galette with its american equivalent, loaded with cinnamon, raisins, and vanilla ice-cream. there is nothing 'simple' about american food, it may be cheap and cheerful, and occasionally, more is really better. however, there are often times when good is better.
good is a marbled, slightly chewy, smoky-crusty, thin sliced steak, 'saignant' for me (rare, as is traditionally done), and 'a point' (medium rare) for everyone else. a reduction of a little knob of butter, finely minced shallot and tarragon, and a good glass of cabernet sauvignon. finally, a golden tangle of long, very thin, crisp, salty frites. and of course, a deep, nicely-aged big bottle of red wine to mull over during the meal, and to consume after while the conversation ebbs and flows and rises and falls.
so few ingredients, yet it's one of those meals that is perfect for a contemplative meal in the dark with a rough-hewn candle or two with a loved one, a tactile, heady, chewy, crisp, earthy contentment.
here's to you.
(serves 2)
1 lb hangar steak 2 russet potatoes, peeled and julienned 1 bottle good red wine knob of butter 2 shallots sprig of tarragon sunflower oil fine salt black pepper
heat a medium saucepan of sunflower oil 2" deep to 375 degrees. heat a heavy-bottomed pan (not non-stick). add julienned potatoes to oil in batches, not too big or too small. stir to break up clumps, cook until golden. season steak liberally on all sides with salt and pepper. lay steak in very hot pan, cook, depending on thickness, until rare or medium rare. set aside to rest. let pan cool momentarily, then deglaze with one glass of wine. add butter, shallots and tarragon. reduce sauce by half while potatoes are frying. slice steak thinly, add jus to sauce in pan. arrange on two plates. season frites with fine salt, divide between plates. spoon red wine reduction generously over steak, and serve with wine.
