Steak

I like steak. Most people I know, like steak. I do not eat if often since I love my heart, and high cholesterol runs in my family. During the Christmas vacation while my husband and I were traveling, we went out to eat to a chain restaurant. I ordered a steak and requested that it be cooked medium well. I learned that trait from my father! I used to order my steak well done because I was scared of E-coli, then my father made a pretty solid argument for medium well steak, and I’ve been ordering it that way ever since. After all, my dad isn’t going to convince to eat something that would make me sick!

I cut into my steak, and blood runs all over my plate. This was rare to medium rare, surely not medium well. I showed it to the waitress, and she agreed. It took this restaurant 3 tries to get it right, and by the time I received my steak I was so full on appetizers and side dishes that I could not enjoy the steak. I usually go to a steakhouse pretty famished, so when my meal comes to me and it isn’t cooked, I have to eat something!

The day after Christmas only 4 people in my dept came to work. So, we all went out to eat for lunch. We went to the finest steak house in the area. And since most businesses were closed on Friday after Christmas, we received prompt service. This restaurant is similar to Ruth Chris, but it is not a la carte. I knew I could get a good steak there. When I ordered the steak this time, I made sure I clearly stated medium well. When the waitress brought me the steak, she asked me to cut into it to make sure it was cooked right. As I cut into it, half of the people at my table started mooing, and again blood ran all over the plate. I assumed that the cook didn’t want to overcook it, so he or she was under cooking it. I told the waitress, “I would rather they cook this well done, then under cook it.” Only took them 2 tries.

Our first date night of 2015 my husband took me to a steakhouse. This time I ordered the steak well done, so they wouldn’t be too scared to actually cook it. The waitress explains to me what “well done” is, as if I’m blonde. I shake my head in agreement, “Yes, I want well done.” She walks away, and I mutter “maybe this time it will be medium well.

As I cut into the steak and saw it was medium rare, I chuckled and sorta fell back in my seat as I thought to myself “Really, Seriously!”. The waitress looks to me, and I said “I’ve been to 2 restaurants that can’t get this right.” My husband chimes in “so I bring her to a steakhouse!” The waitress was so embarrassed. Once again, I fill up on appetizers and my side dishes as I wait for them to cook my steak properly.

I look to my husband and say “I swear, after going to 3 restaurants, 2 of which are steakhouses, I’m convinced that no one can cook my beef right except for Dave.” We have several friends named Dave, but only one Dave grills out for us J

At least at this steakhouse, I was given a free dessert for my trouble; which I gave away to someone else since I’ve consumed enough empty calories this holiday season.

I guess the next time I eat steak; it needs to be at Ruth Chris or Texas de Brazil!