If there’s anything that should make me feel like a grown-up, it’s paying for and cooking $13/lb bison ribeyes in the house I just bought, in the kitchen I’m remodeling. And yet, I mostly don’t feel like an adult. When does that part of adulthood happen, where we all feel like we’re actually grown up now? Ever? When we get wrinkles?
I thawed the meat, but forgot that the blood drips out of paper-wrapped cuts of meat and wound up with runny blood all over my fridge. Fortunately, it only touched things in jars and didn’t ruin any other food. As I moved the bloody mess from the fridge to the pan, I giggled a little when I dripped blood on the floor, the stovetop, and my dog. I felt like Dexter.
This was too easy to make. I just cooked the ribeye to my favorite beef temperature — rare, and as raw as is safe — and pulled it from the heat. I sauteed some sliced baby portobella mushrooms in butter, toasted the bread, added greens, and topped it with a new chipotle mayonnaise I found at the grocery store.
That particular mayonnaise wasn’t a great combination with such an awesome, rich, flavorful cut of meat because it was overpowering, but I’ll surely save it to dress up the occasional boring turkey sandwich.