Where's the Beef? Not Frequently on My Plate.

 Above is the lunch I had yesterday at the house where I do caregiving once a week.  The H House I will call it.  Mr and Mrs H had their 68th anniversary last week.  He was 17 and she was 20 when they got married.  They are both in their 80s now.  I don't recall if she ever held a job outside the home.  They raised 4 children on the farm; a dairy.  One son passed away here a couple of years ago.  His brother still runs beef cows on the farm there.  All of her married life, I suspect, Mrs H has always cooked 3 meals a day, because when I arrive there at 8 AM it isn't long afterwards that she is wondering what we are going to cook for lunch.  Generally it's simple sandwiches or potato soup, but yesterday it was steak, leftover pulled pork and roasting ears.  I took a picture to send to Gary, since he appreciates such things.  Someone of the family had given them the steak, I believe, the pulled pork was leftover from another day and the roasting ears had been on sale.

Gary and I do not do steak, or much beef at all for that matter.  I grew up with a father who summarily refused to eat red meat; at least after I got a bit older.  I distinctly remember, when I was about 5 or 6 maybe, that he butchered a young  beef.  But somewhere along the lines soon afterward he got the idea that red meat was of the devil, so to speak, though he didn't put it that way, and beef was off the menu.  It wasn't until I was probably eleven or twelve and was staying overnight with a friend that I had steak.  I only vaguely remember it.  And that was the last time until once when I was well into my 20s.  (My dad also refused to eat any kind of pork, but that is a story for another day.) So, alas, I have never learned how to properly cook any kind of beef but hamburger.  

Funnily enough, Mrs H said they rarely ever ate steak either and she wasn't sure how to fix it.  But Mr H seemed to know how he wanted his chunk of steak cooked; medium rare.  So that is what Mrs H attempted.  She plunked the raw meat straight onto the heated, ungreased cast iron skillet, and put chunks of real butter on top, no other seasonings.  (You will not find margarine in her kitchen)  Without going too much into other unnecessary detail, I took the leftover piece that had been cooked a bit the day before, and they ate the other two pieces.  It was the first time in my 55 years that I had medium rare beef steak.  The flavor was really good.  Mrs H, who I assumed had not eaten much beef due to her claim that she didn't know how to fix it properly, said it was tough.  I am no judge, but maybe proper steak ought not be quite so chewy.  

We shall see how long it will be before I run into another bit of steak.