Short Loin – Garlic-Herb T-bones in a Bourbon Pan Sauce

Forgive me, dear readers, for taking so long to post. Time has been at a premium of late, and I’ve had some difficulty finding time to eat, let alone write about it.

This weekend, however, I made up for all that.

Saturday, I took to the great blue Pacific with my friends Chris and Ben the Baconchef. We spent the better part of the day riding Poseidon’s peristalsis as the ocean eats the land over a span of eons.

In other words, we went surfing.

I love surfing. It’s one of those activities you can really enjoy, even if you’re absolutely horrible at it. Like golf. Or cosmetic surgery.

As the day wore on, the sets came in bigger and bigger. Toward the end of the day, we wound up facing five and six foot waves.

Which means that toward the end of the day, I got my ass kicked by five and six foot waves.

Which means that Sunday, I am a broken man. I’ve been through Neptune’s spin cycle, and now I am hung out to dry. (Wait, Jared… didn’t you call it ‘Poseidon’s peristalsis’ before? Aren’t you mixing metaphors? Shut up.)

I had planned to make a classic French dish this weekend, but after shambling painfully around town on my Sunday errands, I don’t have enough time. Also, it’s hot. And that particular dish isn’t especially suited to SoCal summer heat.

Switch gears. What haven’t I done?

There’s a gem of a recipe in the Grassfed Gourmet cookbook that Chris gave me when I picked up my beef. I’ve been waiting to try it with a T-bone.

I like steak. I like bourbon. Giddyup.

The T-bone is a cut from the loin of the steer. At the center of the cut is a T-shaped bone, hence the name. On one side of this bone is a large, oval-rectangular muscle. This is the strip loin… cut differently, it’d be a Kansas City or New York strip.

The other side of the bone has some portion of a smaller, rounder muscle, the much-adored tenderloin. Cut differently, this would be a filet mignon.

The T-bone is very similar to the porterhouse steak. Both of the aforementioned muscles are located on the steer’s back, running parallel to the spine. The tenderloin, however, is gently conical, like a baseball bat. That is, the diameter of a tenderloin from the front of the animal is smaller than a tenderloin taken from near the back. If you take a T-bone from closer to the front of the animal, the tenderloin is smaller, and the cut is called a T-bone. If you take the same cut from near the back of the animal, the tenderloin is larger, and the cut is called a porterhouse. (The strip half has the same general size difference – bigger when taken from the back than the front. But the tenderloin size difference is probably more noticiable.)

My T-bones were probably taken from near the very front of the animal, as the tenderloin is very small.

The mise:

Dream on.

I put the steaks in the (turned off, yet dog-resistant) microwave to come to room temp. It’s important on thicker cuts to bring them to room temp so they cook evenly.

While they’re warming, I knock together a batch of the book’s Garlic Herb Rub (thyme, rosemary, oregano, fennel, garlic powder, salt, and pepper). I’ve done both strip and tenderloin with minimal seasoning, so the rub will be an interesting variation.

Meanwhile, sides. Our organic veggie delivery service hooked us up with some nice button mushrooms. A quick perusal of Bittman’s index nets me some Mushroom-Bacon skewers. (Who doesn’t like bacon?)

Our veggiefolk also dropped of a beautiful head of Romaine lettuce. Ladies and gentlemen, there will be salad. I knock together a quick honey mustard vinaigrette for use with the greens.

Quick question though: Why the hell is Ferran Adria on my Olive oil?

Is there some molecular gastronomy at work here? Is there a foam involved? Is this label actually edible nori? Is my olive oil actually some amalgum of liquid nitrogen, corn husks, and dimethyl sulfoxide? What’s the deal, Adria? Why are you getting all Rachel Ray on me?

Whatever. Everybody needs a paycheck.

T-bones are close enough for jazz. Let’s dance.

Olive oil and butter in the front pan. Just olive oil in the back. Count to an arbitrarily large number.

Oil’s hot. Bacon and mushroom in back. Steaks in front. I have about ten minutes on each, so I start humming Stairway to Heaven.

By the time there’s a bustle in my hedgerow, the steaks are asking for a flip. I oblige, and stir the shrooms.

“And it makes me wonder…”

Steaks are done. Temp check confirms it, so I tent them with foil and let them rest. Deglaze with bourbon and simmer.

“And she’s buying… a stairway… to…” something or other. Shrooms are done.

Plate.

Verdict: Lovely, as you’d expect. There wasn’t much of a tenderloin to speak of in this cut, but the strip was excellent.

The rub was a bit overpowering. One thing I’m noticing about the steaks on this steer is that they don’t need much. Salt, pepper, good oil – and they shine. Big fancy rub, and I tend to regret it. (I’m talking about steaks here. Those ribs were lovely, for example. Barbecue is a different beast.) The bourbon pan sauce was inspired, however. I’m adding that to my bag of tricks.

The wife says: 8.5 out of ten. The steak was excellent. The rub wasn’t really necessary. The beef is very lush and flavorful all by itself.

I really enjoyed it. I can’t wait until I work my way back toward the porterhouse.

What else can I deglaze with bourbon?

Short Loin – Campfire New York Strip

I’m outside the Mt. Whitney trail trailhead. It’s a small campsite for trail hikers only, with a maximum one night stay Tomorrow, I go up.

Tonight, we eat. Steaks, NY Strip, over campfire.

I’ve grilled NY Strip before. Tonight, however, there are considerably more variables, so I’m counting this as a distinct application.

First, no oil. We’re camping, for Juniper’s sake. I don’t ordinarily tote Canola in my kit.

Second, salt and pepper changes. They don’t make camp kosher salt, unfortunately. So it’s generic granulated and pre-ground pepper.

That said, let’s dance.

Charcoal into a chimney starter. I want to make sure I have a sharp, hot center in the fire, without having to futz around with finicky firewood (alliteration!).

The coals take the better part of an hour to get going, because we’re camping at 85oo feet. There’s no air up here.

note: it's light.

When the coals are up, we throw foil-wrapped potatoes in, because they’re gonna take a while.

Granulated salt, but only a little. This stuff dissolves quickly, because it has less surface area than kosher granules. I don’t want to turn dinner into a salt lick.  A little pepper, but not too nuts.

When the potatoes are close, we ring them with firewood and light the kindling. We have a low, smouldering fire in about ten minutes.

Steaks.

The hot center coals do their job, and we rotate the meat between high heat in the center, and lower heat over the wood on the outside.

Note: It's dark.

You can never have too many photos of grilled meat.

Result?

Success, all in all. Nice medium rare, with one steak slightly rarer than the others. Happy happy.

The end products were slightly different than my previous experiment at home over gas. Without my kosher and pepper, the steaks didn’t ever really develop a deep mahogany crust like they did before. Also, I’m sure the lack of oil inhibited browning somewhat, leading to a paler surface.

Still, they were wonderful. Something about eating in a pine forest at elevation, with a mountain stream gurgling thirty feet away makes a meal remarkable, regardless of the technical details of the cooking process. Great way to start a hike.

However, my camp spork was completely inadequate.

*Special thanks to Zac, Uriah, and Natalie for the additional photographic help.

Short Loin – Grilled New York Strip

Ben and I just got back from Oroville. Good trip. If you have the means and inclination, I highly recommend it.

I’m beat up from the feet up, and I have a lot to do. First things first, though – food. I’ve been waiting for this.

Scenario: You have four hundred and twenty five pounds of premium grass-fed beef chilling in an iron box in your backyard.  Without exaggeration, you can have for dinner any damn beast piece your fluttery little heart desires. What’s it gonna be?

I’m a Kansas kid with Kansas tastes. Also, not a lot of time. Let’s roll up on some KC Strip.

Alright, technically it isn’t a KC strip, it’s a New York strip. KC usually has part of a bone attached. But it’s the same muscle. It’s off the short loin primal, just behind the ribs. It’s about the size of my hand, fingers outstretched. One thing I’m noticing with this grass-fed action – the meat seems to be a slightly darker red than the grain-fed beef I’m used to. That, or this could by attributed to my unhealthy affection for Cocoa Puffs.

Short loin doesn’t do a whole lot of work keeping the beast upright, so there isn’t much connective tissue there. It’s fairly tender, yet flavorful and lovely. No connective tissue to break down equals high, dry heat. It’s flavorful, so let’s not impede on the goodness.

I fire up the grill. While it’s coming up to speed, I prep the piece. Salt, pepper, and a little canola oil. No use camouflaging the flavor here, strip is a sincerely quality cut. I rub a little canola on my hands, rub the steaks (too much oil, and it’ll drip and cause flare-ups), salt, pepper, done. Walk away.

Grill’s at 450. Close enough for jazz. My guideline says three minutes per side, each side grilled twice, for a total of twelve minutes over the heat. Grass-fed beef is supposed to be leaner and quicker-cooking than grain-fed, so I shoot for two minutes per, total 8. Can’t un-cook things.

My meat thermometer recently died a horrible death, so we’re doing this oldschool. Finger test.

mid-grill

My three minute calculation was for rare. Two minutes per side and eight total minutes later, I’m looking at medium. It really does cook faster than grain-fed.

the inaugural meal

Next time I’m shooting for medium rare at 1:30 per side, 6 minutes total.

Rest, sides, and plating.

I did something right in a past life. Paired it with steamed corn, roasted broccoli with Parmesan and panko, and some home-baked potato-caraway bread my wife baked while I was gallivanting in NorCal, and we ate like kings.

But how was it?

Quite frankly, it was stupid good. Everyone at the table gasped and then fell silent when they tasted their steak. Ben and I ate at a high-end steakhouse the night before we brought this home, and this piece compared very favorably with the meal we had in the restaurant. Rich and flavorful, yet lean. I’ll willingly attribute any shortcomings to my cooking skills. I’ve never cooked grass-fed before. Cut me some slack.

Food porn? Don’t mind if I do:

steaky goodness

the plate

corn

roasted broccoli and parm

My wife bakes. I'm lucky.

In a word – holy bouncing buddha, batman. This is some quality cow.

It’s gonna be a very good year.