Pretty porterhouse, on my deck.
See that porterhouse? That’s what I’ve done with my summer vacation.
I take that back. Eating steak is work. If you chewed on the New York strip I had for breakfast today, you’d agree.
But about that porterhouse, and that bone-in rib steak and that London Broil and even the filet mignon that was bigger on price than it was on flavor …
I melted a load of butter in a hot cast-iron skillet. I seasoned the porterhouse with salt and pepper. I seared the steak on both sides. I finished it in a 500-degree oven.
I don’t measure cooking times. With meat, I have a mother’s instinct, and this big baby cooked up dark and charry on the outside and ruby-bright on the inside. The flavors were intense and clean, the texture was firm, and the meat on either side of the bone, the New York strip and the filet mignon, practically chewed itself.
I’ve got more homework on my plate.