Valentines Day fell on Ash Wednesday this year. Bummer for all those chocolate lovers, romantic steak dinners, champagne, the fuck ever. Christ.
I remember the days of giving things up for Lent. The vast relief on Sundays when you could eat (candy mostly) again. I bought a steak to have on Valentine’s Day (alone, watching cooking pre-taped cooking shows) but then other things intervened and I ended up making it on Friday. In Lent. Super-not-good Catholic Church-wise. Father Whelan, the pastor of our parish would be horrified. When, in its infinite wisdom, the Catholic Church allowed us to eat turkey on the Friday after Thanksgiving he was forced to announce it in church the Sunday before but he added, “I hope you choke on it.”
The recipe, well, procedure really, was in the New York Times and it worked perfectly. Brown on one side, flip and roast in the oven at 400. I ate it with ho-made steak sauce and a challah bun. (and salad of course) it was perfect and I didn’t choke on it. The problem though is that the lingering smell of the fried meat and fat dogged me for 2 days as a Lenten reminder of my misdeeds. I should stick to grilling outside.
I saw this post on Instagram and it made me laugh out loud.
