Not for fifteen years has Mr. Henry enjoyed steak tartare.
In the 1990’s finding himself hungry for lunch alone in London’s Soho, he remembered a genuine French bistro where years before he had enjoyed a very good steak tartare, the kind of bistro where middle-aged French waiters make a genuine career out of good service.
“Steak tartare?†said the waiter with a touch of alarm. “Steak tartare?â€
“Yes,†replied Mr. Henry assuredly. “You still serve steak tartare here, do you not?â€
“Oui, monsieur.” Addressing his colleagues sharply he barked, “Steak tartare tout de suite.â€
Mr. Henry waited quietly. The day’s International Herald Tribune lay undisturbed by his side. Would it be gauche to open it at the table? Perhaps he should wait until after he had finished eating.
The waiter arrived at tableside with steak properly minced, not ground, and with capers, mustard, lemon, egg and onion. He prepared the tartare quite expertly and Mr. Henry consumed it quite completely.
Restored and content Mr. Henry opened his Herald Tribune. On page one a bold headline cried “Mad Cow Disease Discovered in British Beef.â€
This kind of shock takes some time to get over. Impelled by recent reviews of Mr. Henry’s new neighborhood bistro, The West Branch, however, with particular mention of the duck confit salad, the pulled pork panino, and the steak tartare, last Wednesday he strode through its old-time portals on a bold mission to vanquish the perfidious tartare.
Without thinking it through, Mr. Henry automatically ordered a glass of pinot noir which was a tad fruity and absolutely the wrong accompaniment to steak tartare. After the first bite he ordered a cold glass of sauvignon blanc.
White wine with steak? Perfection. Perfect as well, was The West Branch’s tartare recipe that used shallots, not onion, plenty of Dijon mustard, and if the Henry nose is not mistaken, a touch of white wine vinegar.
Save your pinot noir for baked salmon. Vive le vin blanc.
My absolutely favorite lunch dish in Paris! And with it pink girly rosé.
Comment by Judith in Umbria — February 11, 2009 @ 12:42 pm
Oh Mr. Henry, the first part of your post gave me such a good laugh!
Comment by Glinda — February 14, 2009 @ 3:55 pm
Steak tartare is one of my favorite things, but it terrifies me and I haven’t had it in a decade at least. I’ve heard, though, that a sparkling Shiraz is the best thing with it, which makes sense to me since the only sparkling Shiraz I ever had tasted almost exactly like carbonated hemoglobin, which is not to say that I recommend it, even to vampires.
By the way, the single funniest story I’ve ever encountered online had to do with steak tartare, but for the sake of your readers’ delicate sensibilities I shall spare you the link. Believe me, it is exactly as amusing as advertised, but in grossout terms it gives Chuck Palahniuk a run for his money.
Comment by raincoaster — February 15, 2009 @ 4:53 am
Sparkling Shiraz tasting like carbonated hemoglobin is without question one of the most perfect wine descriptions in the history of oenological literature. Raincoaster, thou art an original.
Comment by Mr. Henry — February 15, 2009 @ 4:05 pm