Bummer

Tonight, I had hoped to tap into some visceral part of my being, and I had planned on doing this by grilling in the single-digit temperatures we are "enjoying" here in Chicago tonight. I wanted to step into the cold, and smell the meat on the grill with the brace of frigid air upon my cheeks. I somehow envisioned the triggering of an ancestral memory, the call of the ages whispering through the flames, tethering me beyond the ages to Neanderthal and Cro Magnon, conjuring the ghosts of thousands of years past. I wanted to reach back to them, to sense what it might have been like after a hunt in the dead of winter, the freshly-slain beast upon a spit above a fire still mysterious, still magical. With all that has changed through human (and hominid) history, the smell of cooking meat surely hasn't, right?


Alas, someone had done me the "favor" of pushing my grill cover partway through the handle of my grill, and the recent snow melted into it. About a half gallon of water had frozen beneath that handle, and I was left with no other choice: the broiler. As much as the call of the wild surged through my bones, there was a more immediate call tonight. I spent much of the day thinking about the massive, magnificent porterhouse steaks squatting on all the real estate our dinner plates could afford, and there was no way I was putting this off until tomorrow. 


I do have to tip my hat in some small way to my dad. He did some pretty cool things under the broiler at home when I was a kid, at least I remember a few such occasions in the times when it was just the two of us living in whatever place he had rented at the time. I also need to give due credit to my Aunt Betty, who also did some rather nifty work with the broiler and a piece of beef in the many years I lived in her home. Bottom line: I know the magic you can do with the broiler, and I'm not afraid to use it!


I use a wire cooling rack and a Pyrex dish for such affairs, skipping the old-school metal broiling pans. It is a contraption I simply can't part with, since it has resulted in any number of terrific meals in my lifetime.  The steaks were so big tonight that I had to place a cookie sheet underneath the rig to catch any incidental fat dripping. The steaks received a simple application of garlic salt, pepper, and some various herbs and spices - nothing fancy, since it was the meat I was interested in.


A special treat for me tonight was having my daughter assist me in getting some baked potatoes ready for the oven after I picked her up from daycare. She helped me wash, prick, and wrap the potatoes before they went under the flames. I sincerely hope that the make-believe cooking she relishes so much -  and does constantly - stays with her as she grows up. I will gladly share the kitchen with her if her interest remains, and look forward to seeing what she comes up with, teaching her what I can, and enjoying the time together doing what I fear far too many families don't share any more; time together preparing and eating meals at home.


So, while part of the night was a bummer (the part where I didn't get to freeze my tail off at the grill), in the end, I am more than satisfied.

The verdict


You know, you really can't go wrong with a good porterhouse. My wife was told she needed to up her iron intake recently, so that was a good enough excuse for me to splurge on these puppies. I did have to teach her about the little secret of a porterhouse - the really tender meat is typically on the "small side!" She did appreciate the advice, and seemed more than content with the meal. I lured her in before dinner was done with the smell of searing beef, and that smell still lingers throughout the house as I write this. 


You also can't go wrong with a simple baked potato with a good steak, can you? Spinach: an afterthought, but a good one. I figured she'd get a good boost of iron that way.


I popped open a bottle of Bonarda to go along with the meal. It was a tad sweeter than I'd expected, but still worked pretty well, taking an appropriate back seat to the main dish as I had wished. I wanted to savor the simplicity of the steak, and I did. 


Maybe I didn't get to appreciate the cold tonight. Maybe I didn't get to bond with the ancestors. But I did get a delicious dinner and the company of my awesome family. My pug got the bonus of a scrap or two as well, and maybe in some small way I did get to reach back in time and get a small taste of what it was like. Perhaps not the part about braving the elements for survival and cooking over a flame, but the part of history where dogs became domesticated. I know if I was a pooch, I'd have come by for the smell, begged for the scraps, and stayed around for the company.