serinde: (food)
Tonight's creation is very, very loosely based on a vegan (!) intarwubs recipe for "Cajun-style rice and beans with collard greens", the latter being the operative ingredient I was trying to use up. I had no black beans, but I did have chickpeas; and fuck olive oil when you have andouille sausage. Thus:

1. Chop up about half a link of andouille and toss in the cast iron dutch oven, and let that get goin' while fending off the cat who has suddenly, miraculously got over his snit from having his paws washed because he is too Goddamn stupid not to step in his own peed-on litter on his way out of the box. Ahem.
2. Chop up some onion and red pepper (both farm share items too! whee!) and put into the pot. If the sausage isn't rendering enough delicious spicy fat, put in some olive oil anyways, fine.
3. Wash, de-stem, and coarsely chop up a mess of collard greens. Throw into pot and toss.
4. Once the greens have wilted somewhat, throw in half a cup of brown rice.
5. Add a can of chickpeas (include the liquid, we need some for the rice anyways).
6. Lacking crushed tomatoes, add a can (15oz) of whole peeled tomatoes, and just sort of moosh them up until they're sort of bite sized bits.
7. PAPRIKA, YO.
8. And some salt (but not enough, needed more later).
9. And some of the Auntie Arwen's Garlic Insanity blend, because why not?
10. Let simmer until the rice is done, adding water now and again because the rice is soaking up more liquid than you get from the chickpeas and the tomatoes.
11. About 40 min. later it will be all done. Consume while watching Young Justice on the YouTubes.

I really don't love the coarse leafy greens, but if one is going to eat them, this is a good enough way.
serinde: (domestic)
I still have some of last week's soup yet, and three winter squashes staring accusingly at me, so it seemed that the traditional way to deal with this was to put some in pickle. Therefore:

1. Peel, eviscerate, and cube 1 butternut squash.
2. Peel, eviscerate, and cube 1/2 acorn squash. Peeling raw acorn squash really, really sucks.
3. You now have about 8 c., or a little under 3 lbs, of orange vegetable. Put it in a bowl.
4. Put in a saucepan 3 c. cider vinegar, 2 c. water, 2 c. sugar, 20 peppercorns, 15 cloves, 15 allspice berries, and some cinnamon bark. Heat gently while stirring 'til the sugar is dissolved.
5. Let it come to the boil. This will take a bit.
6. Look around for something to put the end result in. There's a 1L mason jar, but what to do with the rest?
7. Start turning out cupboards and fridge and what-not. Put the remaining maraschino cherries in a pyrex bowl, and wash out the 3/4L jar they were in.
8. Take the two empty jars and put them in boiling water to sanitize.
9. Oh, the brine is starting to boil. Let it boil for a few minutes, then turn down to simmer.
10. Find a 3/4L jar that is mostly full of lavender simple syrup. Look around for something else to put that in.
11. Pour out the last bit of Benedictine, from a bottle that you don't even know where it came from but it was at least since you lived in Jersey City. There's only a half-ounce anyways. Wash the bottle.
12. The brine's done. Pour it over the bowl of pumpkin, which makes it more full than the measuring bowl. Oops.
13. Wipe that up.
14. Strain the lavender syrup into the Benedictine bottle. Wash the jar that the syrup had been in.
15. Extract the now-sterilized jars from the pot and put the syrup jar in it instead.
16. Fill up the sterilized jars with pumpkin and brine, and chuck them in the fridge.
17. Drink the Benedictine Shot of Victory.
18. Time passes. I think. I am not sure how long one waits before eating some.

Recipes differ as to whether one cooks the squash before or not. I am trying not, since I don't want mushy things.
serinde: (food)
I thought pumpkin would last awhile, like the other squashes. Not this one. So, it was needful to deal with it. In addition, I have a terrifying amount of apples from apple-picking yesterday. There is an obvious solution to these issues.

1. Take thy pumpkin. Halve it, de-seed and de-pulp it, brush with oil and a little salt and pepper, and roast til done (I think I gave it about half an hour at 400 degrees).
2. Extract roasted pumpkin flesh, which was about 2 c. worth.
3. Peel, core, and chunk 1.5 large Jonagold apples, also about 2 c. worth.
4. Dice about, eh, 2/3 c. onion and a clove of garlic.
5. Take a 1" piece of ginger and grate it.
6. Fry those three items gently in some butter til they're all nice.
7. Add 2 c. of broth (I used mushroom bouillon), the pumpkin, and the apples. Stir up good.
8. Add salt, garam masala, thyme.
9. There's the tail end of some hot madras curry powder. What the hell, throw that in too.
10. Stir in maybe 2/3 of a can of coconut milk (I used lite, it works fine).
11. Let simmer 30 minutes or so.
12. Immersion blend to a nice soupy glorp, without splattering boiling liquid all over oneself for a change.

It is very nice indeed, the more so with a dollop of yogurt on top. I wish I had had real broth to use (whether chicken or vegetable)--the bouillonosity was coming through the other flavors, which is not preferable. Also, I may have gone a curry too far. Choose one, not both.
serinde: (food)
First pickup of the farm share was today. Included was a bundle of leafy green called "dinosaur kale". I had no idea what to do with it, so went to the intarwubs. The result is rather loosely based on the Portuguese calo verde; I didn't have chorizo, for instance.

1. Chop up about 1/4 - 1/3 cup of onion. Start sauteeing it in garlic-infused olive oil.
2. No chorizo but there is one remaining strip of slab bacon in the freezer. Pull it out, dice it, throw it in the skillet.
3. There are also spuds in the farm share. Take 3/4 lb. of them, scrub, chop into 1/2" dice. By this time the bacon is reducing nicely, so go ahead and throw the taters in.
4. One might add broth now, but one has no broth. Pour in 1/3 cup of rioja to get on with.
5. Put the kettle on quick and produce 1 1/3 c. of mushroom bouillon. Add to pan.
6. Hey idiot, this is soup. Maybe you should use the POT, not the SKILLET. Rectify the error.
7. Let cook ~15 min. until the potatoes are cooked through. Meantime, cut the kale (3 oz of it) into fine julienne. Kale HATES to be cut, by the way. Particularly the stems.
8. When the potatoes are done, bring out the immersion blender and start blending.
9. Rinse spatters of boiling liquid off self, tools, counter, stovetop, and cat.
10. Perhaps the potatoes, though soft, are too much. There is possibly a tool for this. Apply potato masher.
11. Round 2: Go! Immersion blender still not entirely doing its thing; perhaps insufficient liquid. Eventually bodge it into a stewlike state.
12. Input kale, stir around. Stare in astonishment as it inhales all the liquid. Keep stirring for a few minutes as the kale wilts a bit.
13. Add salt and a bit of fresh ground red pepper flakes because why not? Serve it forth.

The result is a thick porridge rather than a soup. But it is really, really tasty, and exactly what I needed after a rotten commute and a burgeoning cold and wah. The kale stems are a little over-crunchy, but it provides tactile interest, kinda like having nuts or something in. A+++ would cook again.
serinde: (food)
The general agita of the past week has led to some fridge cleaning, which leads ineluctably to "let's use up some stuff that is a few days from messy decomposition".

1. Chop up some old garlic, carefully removing the center bits which are sprouting, and also some slightly-withered red onion. Add to skillet with olive oil for gentle frying.

2. Quarter a half-dozen withered but still juicy cherry tomatoes. Reserve for the moment.

3. Step away to do something else for a few minutes. Come back to realize the garlic is now blackened. IT WAS ON LOW HEAT, DAMMIT. Curse a bit and dump in a cup or so of cooked brown rice from last week. Stir it round a bit.

4. Add the tomatoes, and maybe about 1/2 cup of leftover hake from last Thursday. Stir again.

5. Put in a splash of vinho verde because why not?

6. Season with salt, pepper, thyme, and a pinch of herb-blend-for-lamb that [livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred brought back from Istanbul. Let cook a bit more.

7. Eat, accompanied by the last of the vinho verde, and while reading one's favorite translation of the Odyssey.

(Pretty good; in future I'd either make it the all-garlic channel, or go further along the lines of diverse green herbs, thyme and rosemary and maybe a touch of oregano.)
serinde: (food)
0. Have a bunch of de-fatted ground almonds left over from making orgeat during a hurricane. Wonder what to do with them. Ah hah! Crusted fish.

1. Fall into a fugue state at Gourmet Garage. Wake up with .36 lb of hake fillet. What's a hake? Well, the Monterey Bay Aquarium says it's a "good choice", so fine.

2. Combine ~1/4c. of the almonds with ~1 Tbsp of leftover flour-salt-pepper-thyme mix from an earlier breaded thing.

3. Crack an egg into the bowl. Realize the whole thing is not needed to gum up this fillet, and that the white could go into a Ramos Fizz later. Extract the yolk, beat with a little milk.

4. Dip the hake into the egg, then into the almond/flour mix. Stare in astonishment as the entire thing gloms onto the fish side. Whip up another batch for the skin side.

5. Press the hake skin-side down into the new almond mix. Stare in astonishment as none of it sticks. FINE.

6. Put the hake nut-side down into a heated skillet that has some olive oil in on eh, medium heat or so.

7. Pour a glass of a remarkably acidic viognier.

8. Start writing this post. Five minutes in, OH HEAVENS MAH NUTS ARE BURNIN'. Flip the fish.

9. After a few moments, realize the fillet is probably cooked through anyways. Yep. Extract to plate.

10. Wow, that's really good! Spinach Cat likes the cat yums, too.
serinde: (MY CURSE IZ PASTEDE ON YAY!)
I have come down with [livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred's lurgy (with really shit-arse timing, I may add), and crawled home from work at 2pm suffering from total enervation, a tetchy throat, and a head packed with pressure. No actual symptoms elsewise, but still deeply miserable. In the hopes of effecting a swift cure, or at least keeping it from getting much worse, I spawned the following procedure:

0. Set up P&P on your televisionary device.
1. Take ye a smallish chicken. Seethe it with carrots, onion, salt, pepper, and whatever other stockish stuff you have lying around, for about 3 hours.
2. Meantime, roast two heads of garlic in a 350 degree oven for about 45 minutes.
3. Strain the broth, reserving the chicken meat and fending off an importunate cat.
4. Chop up most of an onion and saute in olive oil, adding thyme ynogh.
5. After the onion is well along, throw in an additional handful of raw garlic cloves.
6. Let that fry while you squeeze out all the roasted garlic cloves. Throw those in the pot, with about 3.5 cups of broth.
7. Let that cook together for 15-30 minutes, or until the raw cloves are soft.
8. Immersion blender the snot out of it.
9. Stir in 1/2 cup of whatever combination of cream or half-and-half you have to hand.
10. Add the chicken meat and salt & pepper to taste. Let it cook for about 5-10 minutes, but obviously watch out for curdling dairy.
11. Consume while lolling on the couch watching P&P and feeling terribly sorry for yourself.

It's got a really nice flavor and is most kind to the throat and head. It could actually be more garlicky, I think, though maybe my sinus weasels are deadening my smell/taste somewhat.
serinde: (food)
Gourmet Garage is wont to have eye round steaks for super-cheap; this is appealing to me, because a) nice lean cut of meat (she said, looking sadly at the scale), and b) they come in single-serving packages, and c) no really I mean cheap. However, the couple of times I have gotten this cut, it's come out very tough and unpleasant, even when using recipes Adapted for the Meanest Understanding To Make It Nice.

This time I decided, for a change, to plan ahead. I was tolerably sure I'd be home for dinner most nights this week (thank heaven, considering the weekend's impending Bataan Death March), so I bought the item...and instead of cooking it when I got home, I had something else I'd picked up and prepared a marinade to ready it for tonight's dinner.

Vide:

1. Take ye a .41 lb. eye round steak.
2. Take ye the last lime (guess what I forgot to pick up more of). Juice it into a bowl.
3. Mince a clove of garlic; add to bowl.
4. Grind up some salt, and add that too.
5. Put in about that much cumin. 1 tsp, maybe?
6. Stir it all up then put in a quart Ziploc.
7. Insert the aforementioned steak.
8. Leave in the fridge until tomorrow's dinner. Turn it before you leave for work in the morning.
9. Heat the skillet on medium, with a little oil.
10. Fry the steak for a couple minutes each side.
11. Serve with a nice rioja.

Oh, it was nice; so very very nice. I look forward to infinite possibilities with this SCIENCE!.
serinde: (food)
The challenge: to find something to stuff in a pita, using only the contents of the somewhat-bare cupboards, as we do not choose to stock up on supplies when we will not be eating at home for a week. So what goes in a pita? Protein, because we need it; and what flavors that are somewhat middle eastern, or at least pass a squint test?

1. Heat some toasted sesame oil in the skillet.
2. Add mustard seeds. Heat up until they start popping around, at which point hastily put a lid on top.
3. While that's going, scatter some sea salt on the cutting board. Take two big garlic cloves, slice in half, extract and discard the sprouty bits. Crush the cloves into the salt with your knife blade. Throw in the skillet.
4. Take ye a cup or so of the cooked, chopped-up chicken left over from Twelfth Night, of which you have a gallon Ziploc in the fridge. Dump it into the pan and break it up.
5. Slice a bit of red onion and throw it on in.
6. You are, of course, stirring around now and again during all these steps.
7. When the chicken is a bit warmed up, liberally add cumin, a bit of paprika, and some dried mint that's way past its best but still has a bit of aroma. Thrash until everything's uniformly coated.
8. Put in some pomegranate molasses--probably about a tablespoon, all told, maybe a touch more. Again with the thrashing and the coating and what-not.
9. Let it cook together until the chicken is heated through. Add salt to taste. Serve it forth with your pita and glob some yogurt on top if that's your kink.

Eminently successful! I probably ate too much.
serinde: (food)
Posting this link so I don't space it again: Which it's a Dinner for the Glorious First of June.
serinde: (food)
Since we're all blizzarded today, it seemed like a good day for hearty stew foods. (Also, I had some lentils, and [livejournal.com profile] shechameleon got me an immersion blender for Xmas.)

1. Take 1 link (about, eh, 10"?) of andouille sausage. Chop it, crisp it up in the bottom of the cast iron Dutch oven.
2. Dice half a large red onion, 2 carrots, a yellow pepper, and three garlic cloves that are a little past their best.
3. Remove the sausage to a bowl; put the onions and carrots in the pot and start sauteing. After five minutes, add the peppers and garlic. (Put in some olive oil if it needs.)
4. When the veg is about there, deglaze the pot with a splash of wine (I used a Chilean carmeniere). Take a splash for yourself while you're at it.
5. Add a half cup of lentils, 1 tsp cumin, and 1 tsp paprika. Mix it all up, then put in 2.5 cups of whatever broth you have (I used half chicken broth, half reconstituted mushroom bouillon).
6. Let cook 'til the lentils are done, then use your shiny new immersion blender. Realize the pot is a bit too wide and the stuff too shallow in it for best use, and wipe the scalding broth bits off your flesh. Work with it, and blend about half of the goop into glorp.
7. Add back the andouille (remember the andouille? This recipe is about andouille) and let it heat through.
8. OM NOM NOM
serinde: (domestic)
(I think just about everyone here is on teh facebookz too, but in case you're not: Yo! I am having a housewarming on Saturday! Come any time after noon!)

So after much greater mental labor than is quite right--I've gotten lazy from having a house with a grill where it was just a matter of laying in burgers, buns, and beer--I think I know what snax shall be passed at various points in the afternoon/evening:

* gougères (I have Artisanal's recipe!)
* crab dip (w/crackers)
* chili cheese dip (w/chips and fresh veg)
* bleu cheese dip (same)
* spiced nuts
* ginger chicken salad (cold, on baguette slices)
* shrimp salad (broiled, on baguette slices)
* rosemary loaf cake
* walnut cookies
* burnt-butter cupcakes (those with which I won the coveted Gold Cupcake award at [livejournal.com profile] erinfinnegan's birthday competition last year)

Because I shall be entertaining from noon til midnight, in theory, it occurs to me I should prepare some easily-dished up lunch for myself too. I'm just dithering about what. My inner crazy person wants to make the picnic fried drumsticks I tried a couple years ago, which were really good cold, but they are labor intensive. Dither dither dither.

I concocted this list and realized that anyone who cannot tolerate dairy is in for a woeful time. Maybe there should be a salami.

Now I must decide on beverages. Sangria? Pimm's Cup? Try for one of the fancy punches and risk embarrassment? (I am going to fill the tub with ice and chuck beer/soda in it, too.)
serinde: (domestic)
0. Stare blankly at about 1.5 cups of cooked brown rice.
1. Take a glob (~1 Tbsp) of the duck fat that has been sitting in the back of the fridge. Melt in cast-iron skillet.
2. Chop a bit of onion and garlic. Start it frying up in the duck fat.
3. Cut up two boneless, skinless chicken thighs. Add them to the pan.
4. Chuck in a bunch of fresh thyme that's reaching end-of-life. Grind some pepper in, too.
5. After the chicken is browned, add in the rice. Let it all fry up a bit more.
6. Add 1 cup of mushroom bouillon. Turn up the heat, let it reduce.
7. Realize that's still a lot of liquid. Chuck in a handful of dried lentils (about 1/3 c).
8. Cover and hope this works. Distract self with list of Rock Band download choices.
9. Liquid is almost gone, lentils are a bit firm yet. Add a splash of white wine.
10. Wait til that evaporates. Dish up.
11. Yes, that will do nicely.
serinde: (on the short bus)
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: !!!
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: Nigella has a recipe that she came up with after having Nobu's cod-in-miso.
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: Nifty.
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: And it's scaled for 1 or 2 people.
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: SUBSCIRBE!
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: I don't know what mirin is. Please hold.
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: Oh, it's like sake with a lower booze content.
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: "O'Doul-San"
serinde: (food)
Faced with a nearly-past-edibility tupperware full of leftover roasted cauliflower and potato, my choices were either to mush them up and make fritters (which would be delicious, but I mean, we are dieting here), or the time-honored fate of nameless leftovers: soup.

Herewith:

Olive oil
Generous slice of onion, diced
Clove of garlic minced
garam masala, I dunno, a half-Tbsp?
20-oz receptacle filled with squidgy cauliflower and potato leftovers
1 c. chicken broth

Gently fry up the onion and garlic in the olive oil. When about that, add the garam masala and turn the heat up a bit, frying until the kitchen is full of curry goodness. Add the veg and toss to coat with the spice. Add the chicken broth (which is actually frozen into cute 1/2 cup hockey pucks, but never mind) and cover to cook for a bit. When the veg is entirely squidgy, mash with a potato masher because you can't be arsed to ladle it into a food processor or blender. Forget the salt. Add the salt. Realize that you have created porridge. Add another hockey puck of chicken broth. Feel it's too bland, add too much cayenne. Stop screwing with it. Dish out, eat. Not bad, especially since all you can taste is CURRY!~. Makes about 2c, and it's probably more or less healthy.
serinde: (food)
Failing to escape the gravitational pull of the Hungarian Meat Market on 81st and Second, I entered one of those fugue states and came out with a half-pound of an unlabeled paprika-dusted entity described by the shop girl as "bacon, but you don't have to cook it". (Research indicates that this might be some variant of szalonna.) It's more than 50% fat, and the meat bits are rather shreddy in the way corned beef gets. There is no rind.

Not being a starving Hungarian peasant, I'm not gonna just eat the stuff--I think it will make a better flavor-enhancer ([livejournal.com profile] shechameleon has already proposed using it as a base for potato soup, and I was seeing it in a pot of beans)--but I can't be arsed to make soup tonight. Therefore, my intent:

~2 Tbsp of maybe-szalonna, diced fine
1/2 of a red pepper, sliced in strips
1/4 or a bit less of onion, sliced in strips
A potato, which happens to be rather lambently purple-red, scrubbed and sliced thin

Render the maybe-szalonna in a skillet, nice and slow. When it's good and drippin', add the potatoes, then after a few minutes, the other veg. Serve as soon as the taters are nice and brown, or whatever color they get when they start out porphyros, with a hunk Brooklyn Brewery Dark Rye bread.

I shall report results anon.

Edit for results: The veg didn't really take up the bacon flavor (or the paprika flavor), unfortunately. I am perhaps executing the rendering stage incorrectly. It's fine and all, but the units are not, in the words of one of the plaques we saw at the Saarinen exhibit today, entering into a dialogue.
serinde: (food)
3 c. cranberries
The juice and zest of one orange
A second orange, peeled, de-pithed, seeded, sectioned
3 pieces of true-cinnamon bark, macerated in a burr grinder
~1/2 cup of fig preserves
~1 Tbsp of sugar

Throw it all into the food processor and pulse it unto a uniform consistency. [N.B.: The actual process was more hesitant, as I added stuff, tasted it, and said "It needs more X"; but the result is the same.] [A splash of Cointreau or Grand Marnier might not go amiss, either.]

It was, in my opinion, a good representative of its kind; I just personally prefer a cooked cranberry sauce. [livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred was greatly pleased by it, however, and claimed the leftovers with glee, which she intends to put over yogurt. I think it would go well as a relish for cold meats, too.
serinde: (food)
1. Go to Gourmet Garage, intending to just grab eggs and yogurt and kitty litter (and to dine on mac and cheese with tuna). Enter a fugue state and wake up with a 1.3lb boneless "mini-roast of wild boar", with a USDA stamp declaring it to be from "Feral Swine".

2. Return home. Visit the vendor's web site for recipes, as the package suggests, only to find that they don't have anything for this particular incarnation of boar.

3. Pour a drink.

4. Remember the packet of dried wild mushrooms that has been staring accusingly at you for a couple months. Start reconstituting them to buy time.

5. Stuffing? It's boneless, so there should be convenient gap. Slowly work loose the net thingie holding it together, realize that not really is there a convenient gap, but perhaps we can make something of this.

6. Go to chop an onion. Realize that the last of the onion went into the beef stew Sunday. Well, shit.

7. Cook rice in the mushroom soaking liquid, add the mushrooms and sauteed garlic and herbs? That might work.

8. Realize we had better get the roast in if it ain't bein' stuffed. Ponder what a good forester would rub his pig with. Drink more. Default to sage, thyme, and long pepper.

9. Surprise yourself by actually getting the net thingie back around the roast. Realize the roasting pan is way too damn' big. However! Grandma's enameled handled pan that she made mac and cheese in! Yes.

10. Heat oven to 4something, for searing. Drain mushrooms, reserving broth (almost forgetting to). Smells kind of like gym socks.

11. Chop a few carrots and celery to throw in the roasting dish, because why the hell not? Put roast in oven.

12. O NOES COCKTAIL IS GONE make another.

13. Measure mushroom soaking liquid, eke out with water for 2c. Begin to put it on the stove, then realize you have a rice cooker, idiot. Transfer operations thither.

14. Chop garlic and some slightly wilty scallions found in the back of the fridge. Sauté for about that long, adding the chopped mushrooms (some of which look disturbingly like horrifying sea life).

15. Turn down the oven to 325. Uncork last bottle of red. Where does all the wine go?!

16. This drink has too much grenadine. However, the kitchen is starting to smell awfully nice. Realize that the mushies have not been herbed. Leap up to rectify.

17. After that's settled it for a bit, add the mushies to the rice, which is still madly cooking away. Lordy, we love the rice cooker.

18. An hour five after beginning productions, everything seems to be ready (modulo letting the roast rest for a few minutes). The meat thermometer seems to think it's about 155 deg F. There is almost no liquid produced by the roast to make gravy or other joy from, alas; a teaspoon, at a generous estimate. This be some lean meat in spite of the nice square slab of fat on the top of it.

19. OM NOM NOM
serinde: (food)
Take ye a package of ground turkey that needs eatin'. Mix it with 1 egg (beaten), thyme, rosemary, salt, pepper, and breadcrumbs ynogh (maybe a generous slice). Glob well and form into biggish but not gargantuan meatballs.

Slice one orange pepper, 1/3 c onion, and a couple cloves of garlic. Put in skillet with a bit of oil and a bit of butter; let slowly cook on lowish heat, getting all nice and aromatic (my Italian cookbook calls this "insaporire"). When bored, put in the meatballs. Let that cook, turning occasionally. Phone [livejournal.com profile] sweh, forgetting what you're doing, until the smell of caramelizing onions grabs your attention. Splash some of the Chardonnay you're drinking into the skillet to loosen things up and put a lid on. Wait some ten minutes, then OM NOM NOM NOM.

I'd like this in a more sauce-like substance, but a) I don't have what I want to make one, and b) it'd be bad for me anyways. Still awfully good, though needed a bit more salt.
serinde: (food)
(Several days delayed.)

Take ye a hanger steak, maybe .65 lb, that your housemate thoughtfully acquired from Whole Foods. Set on counter, properly protected from cats, until it reaches room temperature. Meantime, heat the cast iron skillet to REALLY FUCKING HOT. Brush the steak with oil and sprinkle with salt and ground pepper.

When all is in readiness, put steak in skillet. Let it cook for several minutes while you slice up a pepper and half an onion. Flip, cook for roughly same time. Decant the steak to a plate (it will continue cooking for a bit), put a bit more oil or butter into the pan, then add the sliced veg. Saute the veg on tolerably high heat until they start to soften, then add a tablespoon of red wine vinegar; cook til evaporated (fast), then add 1/4 c. red wine. Keep cooking until nicely done. (Optional: put the steak back in because your housemate likes her meat to be not actually still alive, and splash a bit more wine on it too.)

Slice meat thin, arrange neatly on plate around pile of caramelized veg. Serves two, with enough for someone's lunch later in the week.

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