There is so much to write about!
In preparation for blogging, I transferred pics to my computer so they'd be poised for upload. In doing so, I noticed a theme: I like raw meat. Beef, specifically. Lots of people, of course, eat their beef medium, medium rare, or even blue. Many say eating beef any more than medium is an insult to the animal that gave its life. I don't completely agree with this assessment. A rare boeuf bourguignon is not a good thing. Lamb is also often enjoyed medium or medium rare. Game birds as well - duck, goose, quail - also don't have to be cooked through. Modern thinking even allows pork to have a trace of pink in the centre. But there is a difference between the pink, or even reddish centre, and purely raw.
Steak tartare and beef carpaccio is where the line is drawn. Tartare, finely minced (but not simply ground beef - best done by hand), wonderfully textured and beautifully seasoned. Carpaccio, thinly sliced and cured with a hit of acid, like lemon juice. These dishes have never seen a lick of heat. This is where you get beef at its purest. Its beefiest. This is where you can't hide mistakes. Unimpeachable quality is required. Exemplary food handling is essential. And, if making it yourself, excellent knife skills are the starting point.
I feel at this point, we need a picture.
Isn't that pretty? This is the tartare I made at a recent cooking class at the Urban Element, a local foodie hotspot where I have spent many a delightful hour learning new techniques and connecting with the local foodies.
Now, some exposition.
Steak tartare. Minced beef, traditionally done by hand. Seasoned with shallots, cornichons (gherkins, for those unused to French terminology), Dijon, capers, salt and pepper, Worcestershire sauce, oil, plus a variety of other seasonings dependent on the particular tastes of the person making it. Chives. Soy sauce. Tabasco. Chili flakes. Parsley. It is really a flexible and forgiving dish. Also essential to a proper tartare is egg yolk, which binds and adds a luxurious unctuousness. Served with some delivery method that gets the beef from the plate to your mouth: melba toast, toast points, potato chips, etc.
Beef carpaccio. Thinly sliced beef, artfully arranged, dressed simply. An acid element, such as lemon juice. an oil. Salt and pepper. Shavings of parmigiano, or some other cheese with character. Often a crunchy element is on the plate. Chip, crispy onion strings.
This is the carpaccio from Brother's Beer Bistro. The crispy elements are pie crust and mushrooms. Freshness comes from the cold, smooth root vegetable cubes and the sprouts. Olive oil, lemon, and a beer based sauce round out the dish.
These dishes exist at the meeting point between creativity, excellent technique and quality ingredients. They are not out of reach for the home chef.
First, you need an excellent meat supplier. A mainstream, chain grocery store simply will not do, since you have no idea what has been needle tenderized. Unless a meat is going to be cooked to a minimum temperature (not raw), you need to be confident that its structural integrity hasn't been compromised. Many, if not most, chain grocery stores receive their meat pre-packaged from meat packaging plants. Needle tenderizing, where needles are forced into the tissue, depositing whatever bacteria are on the needles or the surface of the meat, is widely used. Labelling requirements are inconsistent. If you are going to try a raw preparation, you need a purveyor you can trust. In Ottawa there are several: Glebe Meat Market, Saslove's, Aubrey's. A hint: if quality restaurants use a butcher as a meat supplier, it is a good sign that they are reliable. There may be others, but those are my go-tos.
There are a variety of cuts you can use, but in general, they are among the more tender. Traditionally, tenderloin is often used. But striploin, rib, or even heart are appearing on menus.
Second, an excellent knife. Sharp. German or Japanese. Many get suckered in to a butcher's block filled with mediocre knives. There are few you truly need: a chef's knife, a paring knife. If you're interested in your own butchering, maybe a boning knife, although, seriously, I seldom find myself reaching for anything other than my 8 inch chef's knife. Where knives are concerned, you want quality over quantity. Personally, I go German. Wustof, Henckels. I look for balance. Feeling right in my hand. A certain weight. I'd rather spend $120 on one awesome blade that I will use constantly than $120 on a panoply of crap that looks cool on my counter. Invest in a proper sharpening steel to keep them honed between more formal sharpenings. Either learn how to sharpen yourself using a whetstone, or get your blades sharpened professionally on a regular basis. Treat a good blade properly, and it will last you for decades. From a safety perspective, though it is counter-intuitive, a sharp blade is safer than a dull one. The sharper the blade, the truer the cut. The less likely it will jump, slide, or otherwise misbehave. And it won't shred. If you happen to cut yourself, you'll appreciate a knife that cuts cleanly rather than one that shreds your skin.
Third, the meat, when cutting, either the mince for a tartar or the thin slices for a carpaccio, should be very, very cold. Putting it in the freezer for 20 minutes helps. This helps it to maintain its structural integrity when cutting. As much as many don't like to think of it, the meat we eat is muscle tissue. It breaks down and becomes mushy with excessive handling. Working with very cold beef helps to protect the texture of the meat, which is a huge part of the appeal of either tartare or carpaccio.
After that... It's up to you. You need some acid. You need some fat. You need some crunch. But the world is your oyster. Or, your plate of raw beef.
When I do carpaccio, I sprinkle salt on the meat, wrap it tightly for an hour or so to impart flavour and cure while in the fridge. Transfer to the freezer to firm up, slice thinly, and serve with lemon juice, walnut oil, shaved parmigiano, and thinly sliced onions dredged in cornstarch and dry fried.
The best tartare I ever had was at the Ottawa Wine and Food show a couple of years ago, an offering by the Wakefield Inn. Then, it was a bison tartare, but what sticks in my memory were the little balls of soy sauce, created by molecular gastronomy wizardry. As they exploded in my mouth along with the perfectly textured, flavourful bison it was a game changer for me. The best bite of that particular food and wine show, and since then, when I make tartare at home, I include a splash of soy sauce to recreate that taste.
A couple more pics...
My own carpaccio at home.
Aperitivo's tartare
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