I know its becoming a recurring theme on this blog but this kind of situation really does not happen regularly, its just that the subject of my conversation today crops up from time to time and i relish in the challenges that it lays before me.
R's Hungover.
Like i said, i may of mentioned R being hungover in the past, or i might of casually mentioned that he likes to depart on some particularly crazy wild nights out ( to the extent of the wildness is thankfully not know by me ). As its not a regular occurrence these situations usually don't bother me, I'm not one for pushing and shoving my way to a unpleasantly sticky bar, raising my voice beyond my normal pitch level to try and order a complicated list of drinks. The smell of lingering alcohol that is being exhaled by most of the sweaty, hazy eyed men and the mascara smudged struggling to maintain their balance in ridiculously high shoes women, does not prompt any feelings of enjoyment or wanting to down twenty shots of something that looks like i could of cleaned my toilet with it and stay out into the early hours of the next morning
I'm more likely to crave good food, good company and good wine ( not the stuff what you can get on tap behind a bar ). I may be deemed boring by some of my peers and a hypocrite by those how knew me some years back, but I'm not actually condemning this kind of behavior, it just has about as much appeal to me as eating a bowl of cold tripe and powdered custard.
So every now and then i have to keep my own feelings aside and play the loving and honorable wife by not causing a fuss when R announces that such a night out may be on the horizon.
On his last outing however we parted company on not the nicest terms, mainly due to my spiteful words and disapproving looks - what can i say? sometimes insecure wife likes to rear her ugly head and kick him where it hurts just as he's about to depart.
I could write a list as long as my arm made up of excuses to try and find reasoning for my behavior that day, wrong time of the month, jealousy, bitterness, he'd not made the bed or the fact that he keeps leaving his teaspoon from his morning coffee dripping on the side so that it leaves a tough brown smudge that becomes difficult to eradicate, at the end of the day i had been a bitch, so i felt it was my matrimonial obligation to make up for it the next day with a form of apology that was sure to settle any disgruntlement - Food.
There are numerous dishes which would of been sufficient, after all filling the alcohol poisoned stomach is never a difficult job, as any person who has suffered the slightest in hangovers knows that the only cure that is a sure fire bet is to try and fill up their seemingly never ending appetite.
As i was on a slight grovelling mission there were only a handful of dishes that would sure enough make R's heart melt.
1. Roast chicken dinner with all the trimmings
2. Curry
3.Sirloin steak
4. Chicken fajitas
For once there was no actual contest, roast chicken is too much like a Sunday lunch, i needed something that would stimulate my mind more, chicken fajitas just seemed like a bit of a cop out and filling R's need for a curry would involve us going out to eat at the local Indian as I'm yet to reproduce a home made curry that R considers to be a near perfect re- creation of his favourite Indian dish. I know too well that even if i travelled to India and ground the spices together in the middle of deli with the influence of an Indian food guru, he would still give me the same ' Its not bad ' reply .
By the powers of deduction Sirloin steak was to be my gift to R, the only problem was Id never actually cooked a steak before, R always insisted that he did it as he knew his exact method and his precise cooking times that paved the way for his most perfect steak.
I followed all the rules, looked for an aged sirloin ( pref between 21 and 35 days ), i took great care over its colour which should be deep rich velvet red, i ensured the steak had good marbling - a must when cooking as it allows the meat to self baste itself and it had to have a good layer of creamy white fat around the top.
To say i was nervous was an understatement ( pathetic - i know ), normally during my long awaited hours i spend in my kitchen on a Saturday night I'm accompanied by a glass of two of one of my much adored Rojas's, i make small dancing movements as i tenderly cross the kitchen from one side to another joyfully humming away to whatever tune fills my merry head.
I had got as far as opening the wine to let it breath but i dared not let a drop touch my tongue, tonight was not the night to make tipsy giggly mistakes that are normally laughed off. The pressure was on.
Griddle set to high i softly brushed my steak sparingly with oil and seasoned well on both sides giving the meat a care full massage as i rubbed in the seasonings. Waiting for the first signs of my pan starting to generate smoke my hand began mindlessly grabbing for the glass that's usually by my side like a faith full companion, it took what felt like an age to get my pan to the right temperature, when it was there i knew i had to act confidently and quickly and not let my brain become flustered with the many ways i had read on the most perfect way to cook steak.
I thought id be watched like a giant hawk by R, but he must of been in the deepest midst's of his hangover as he never even came past the kitchen threshold, only mentioning 5 or 6 times his precise cooking times that he wished his steak to be cooked.
Lowing the meat to the feverishly hot pan i began my countdown, R likes his steaks rare almost blue or as he describes it ' Just wipe its bum and stick it on my plate ' ( He has a way with words, don't you think? ).
50 seconds in my face was barely a few inches away from the pan and i was sure i could smell that awful charred burning smell that would indicate over - doneness but i decided to tust my methods and wait another 10 slow seconds until i turned it over.
For what must of been the longest, drawn out two minutes of my life i impatiently glared between my victim in the pan and the bottle of red only a foot away, praying, hoping that the sirloin would meet R's greatest requirements. Once my trusty timer beeped away i removed the steak to allow it that all important moments of resting to allow the juices that have been brought to the surface to settle back down into the meat.
It looked how i intended but the all important test was for the masterchief judge that had slumped himself in font of the log burner and x factor to taste it.
Shudderingly awaiting my results all i got was - ' That's amazing babe, but i could of eaten a scabby donkey'.
'Thanks, that's just great' i mumbled as my wondering hand found its way to the extra large glass of wine that had been awaiting my undivided attention.
Perfectly Cooked Steak - Which ever way you like it.
Heat your griddle or frying pan over a high heat until it begins to smoke *
Lightly brush your steak with a small amount of olive oil and season with salt and pepper
Place on the griddle and only turn when needed when the appropriate timing is necessary, allowing your steaks to achieve good sear marks
Once cooked to your desired time remove from the pan and allow to rest for 3 minutes before serving.
General timings for cooking your steak ( the thickness of your steak and the heat of your pan can make a considerable amount of difference )
Blue - 1 minute on each side
Rare - 1 and a half minute on each side
Medium rare - 2 minute on each side
Medium - 2 and a quarter minutes on each side
Well done - 3 Min's each side
R's Hungover.
Like i said, i may of mentioned R being hungover in the past, or i might of casually mentioned that he likes to depart on some particularly crazy wild nights out ( to the extent of the wildness is thankfully not know by me ). As its not a regular occurrence these situations usually don't bother me, I'm not one for pushing and shoving my way to a unpleasantly sticky bar, raising my voice beyond my normal pitch level to try and order a complicated list of drinks. The smell of lingering alcohol that is being exhaled by most of the sweaty, hazy eyed men and the mascara smudged struggling to maintain their balance in ridiculously high shoes women, does not prompt any feelings of enjoyment or wanting to down twenty shots of something that looks like i could of cleaned my toilet with it and stay out into the early hours of the next morning
I'm more likely to crave good food, good company and good wine ( not the stuff what you can get on tap behind a bar ). I may be deemed boring by some of my peers and a hypocrite by those how knew me some years back, but I'm not actually condemning this kind of behavior, it just has about as much appeal to me as eating a bowl of cold tripe and powdered custard.
So every now and then i have to keep my own feelings aside and play the loving and honorable wife by not causing a fuss when R announces that such a night out may be on the horizon.
On his last outing however we parted company on not the nicest terms, mainly due to my spiteful words and disapproving looks - what can i say? sometimes insecure wife likes to rear her ugly head and kick him where it hurts just as he's about to depart.
I could write a list as long as my arm made up of excuses to try and find reasoning for my behavior that day, wrong time of the month, jealousy, bitterness, he'd not made the bed or the fact that he keeps leaving his teaspoon from his morning coffee dripping on the side so that it leaves a tough brown smudge that becomes difficult to eradicate, at the end of the day i had been a bitch, so i felt it was my matrimonial obligation to make up for it the next day with a form of apology that was sure to settle any disgruntlement - Food.
There are numerous dishes which would of been sufficient, after all filling the alcohol poisoned stomach is never a difficult job, as any person who has suffered the slightest in hangovers knows that the only cure that is a sure fire bet is to try and fill up their seemingly never ending appetite.
As i was on a slight grovelling mission there were only a handful of dishes that would sure enough make R's heart melt.
1. Roast chicken dinner with all the trimmings
2. Curry
3.Sirloin steak
4. Chicken fajitas
For once there was no actual contest, roast chicken is too much like a Sunday lunch, i needed something that would stimulate my mind more, chicken fajitas just seemed like a bit of a cop out and filling R's need for a curry would involve us going out to eat at the local Indian as I'm yet to reproduce a home made curry that R considers to be a near perfect re- creation of his favourite Indian dish. I know too well that even if i travelled to India and ground the spices together in the middle of deli with the influence of an Indian food guru, he would still give me the same ' Its not bad ' reply .
By the powers of deduction Sirloin steak was to be my gift to R, the only problem was Id never actually cooked a steak before, R always insisted that he did it as he knew his exact method and his precise cooking times that paved the way for his most perfect steak.
I followed all the rules, looked for an aged sirloin ( pref between 21 and 35 days ), i took great care over its colour which should be deep rich velvet red, i ensured the steak had good marbling - a must when cooking as it allows the meat to self baste itself and it had to have a good layer of creamy white fat around the top.
To say i was nervous was an understatement ( pathetic - i know ), normally during my long awaited hours i spend in my kitchen on a Saturday night I'm accompanied by a glass of two of one of my much adored Rojas's, i make small dancing movements as i tenderly cross the kitchen from one side to another joyfully humming away to whatever tune fills my merry head.
I had got as far as opening the wine to let it breath but i dared not let a drop touch my tongue, tonight was not the night to make tipsy giggly mistakes that are normally laughed off. The pressure was on.
Griddle set to high i softly brushed my steak sparingly with oil and seasoned well on both sides giving the meat a care full massage as i rubbed in the seasonings. Waiting for the first signs of my pan starting to generate smoke my hand began mindlessly grabbing for the glass that's usually by my side like a faith full companion, it took what felt like an age to get my pan to the right temperature, when it was there i knew i had to act confidently and quickly and not let my brain become flustered with the many ways i had read on the most perfect way to cook steak.
I thought id be watched like a giant hawk by R, but he must of been in the deepest midst's of his hangover as he never even came past the kitchen threshold, only mentioning 5 or 6 times his precise cooking times that he wished his steak to be cooked.
Lowing the meat to the feverishly hot pan i began my countdown, R likes his steaks rare almost blue or as he describes it ' Just wipe its bum and stick it on my plate ' ( He has a way with words, don't you think? ).
50 seconds in my face was barely a few inches away from the pan and i was sure i could smell that awful charred burning smell that would indicate over - doneness but i decided to tust my methods and wait another 10 slow seconds until i turned it over.
For what must of been the longest, drawn out two minutes of my life i impatiently glared between my victim in the pan and the bottle of red only a foot away, praying, hoping that the sirloin would meet R's greatest requirements. Once my trusty timer beeped away i removed the steak to allow it that all important moments of resting to allow the juices that have been brought to the surface to settle back down into the meat.
It looked how i intended but the all important test was for the masterchief judge that had slumped himself in font of the log burner and x factor to taste it.
Shudderingly awaiting my results all i got was - ' That's amazing babe, but i could of eaten a scabby donkey'.
'Thanks, that's just great' i mumbled as my wondering hand found its way to the extra large glass of wine that had been awaiting my undivided attention.
Perfectly Cooked Steak - Which ever way you like it.
Heat your griddle or frying pan over a high heat until it begins to smoke *
Lightly brush your steak with a small amount of olive oil and season with salt and pepper
Place on the griddle and only turn when needed when the appropriate timing is necessary, allowing your steaks to achieve good sear marks
Once cooked to your desired time remove from the pan and allow to rest for 3 minutes before serving.
General timings for cooking your steak ( the thickness of your steak and the heat of your pan can make a considerable amount of difference )
Blue - 1 minute on each side
Rare - 1 and a half minute on each side
Medium rare - 2 minute on each side
Medium - 2 and a quarter minutes on each side
Well done - 3 Min's each side
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