Steak Quotes

“The only time to eat diet food is while you're waiting for the steak to cook.”
― Julia Child

“My favorite animal is steak.”
― Fran Lebowitz

“I never arrive unannounced without something big and juicy in hand.
- Simon Hunt”
― dannika dark, Sterling

“I'll stop eating steak when you stop killing spiders." Absurdity: comparing cows to spiders. Arachnids are pure evil. They're like a cigarette manufacturer or a terrorist. They're organized religion on eight legs.”
― Davey Havok, Pop Kids

“The myriad of flavors explode on my tongue, shimmy through my mouth, slap my taste buds and call them filthy bastards, and I love it.”
― Stacey Jay, Romeo Redeemed

“I believe books should be like a prime rib steak ~ good and thick.”
― E.A. Bucchianeri

“After you have witnessed the reality, you can no longer look at a piece of steak, and simply think "yum".”
― Mango Wodzak, Destination Eden

“There is only one right way to eat a steak - with greed in your heart and a smile on your face.”
― Soumeet Lanka

“The only thing he likes better than a nice juicy homicide is a sirloin steak smothered with onions.”
― Richard Brautigan, در رؤیای بابل

“Screw chocolate. A good steak is where it’s at.”
― A.D. Posey

“Adrienne ate her steak, the béarnaise, the garlicky fries- did she even need to say it? It was steak frites from a rainy-day-in-Paris dream. The steak was perfectly seasoned, perfectly cooked, pink in the middle, juicy, tender. The salad was tossed in a lemony vinaigrette but it tasted so green, so young and fresh, that Adrienne began to worry. This person Fiona had a way. If the staff meal tasted this good then the woman was possessed, and Adrienne didn't want a possessed woman on her case.”
― Elin Hilderbrand, The Blue Bistro

“She is just drunk and horny, and skinny, so skinny, as thin as a steak from a Mac Donald’s burger.”
― Alain Bremond-Torrent, running is flying intermittently

“We started getting hungry again, and some of the women started chanting, "MEAT, MEAT, MEAT!"
We were having steak tartare. It was the only appropriate main course we could think of, for such a graceless theme, and seeing as nobody in the club was confident making it, we had to order it in. I made chips to serve with it, though. I deep-fried them in beef fat.
The steak was served in little roulades, raw and minced, like horsemeat. It was topped with a raw egg yolk, chopped onions, pickled beetroot, and capers. I had wanted to use the Wisconsin version, which is served on cocktail bread and dubbed "cannibal sandwich," but Stevie insisted we go classic. Not everyone could stomach theirs with the raw egg yolk, too, and so, unusually for a Supper Club, there was quite a lot left over.
We took another break to drink and move about the room. Some of us took MDMA. Emmeline had brought a box of French macarons, tiny pastel-colored things, which we threw over the table, trying to get them into one another's mouth, invariably missing.
For our proper dessert, we had a crepe cake: a stack of pancakes bound together with melted chocolate. We ate it with homemade ice cream, which was becoming a real staple.”
― Lara Williams, Supper Club

“Still, he thought, it's an adult's body we got here, no question about that. There's the pot belly that comes with a few too many good steaks, a few too many bottles of Kirin beer, a few too many poolside lunches where you had the Reuben or the French dip instead of the diet plate.”
― Stephen King, It

“First, we put some shallow cuts in the meat in a grill pattern...
then, we pound it until it's thin! Next, we cover both sides of it with minced onions and let it sit."
Covering the meat with onions? I think I read about that somewhere...
"Okay, now we scrape off the onions and season the meat with salt and pepper. After searing the steak, we melt a dollop of butter in the same frying pan...
... and caramelize the minced onions in the juices left from the meat, melding the two flavors together! After they're done, we cover the whole top of the steak with the caramelized onions...
... and use the back of a knife to put the grill pattern back into the meat. Put it all on top of some cooked rice...
and it's done!"
"Oh, yeah! Now I remember! This...
IS A CHALIAPIN STEAK!"
CHALIAPIN STEAK
It was created in 1936, specifically for visiting opera singer Feodor Chaliapin. Bothered by a toothache, the singer requested a dish with "tender steak." This was the result. Accordingly, it is a uniquely Japanese steak, unknown to the rest of the world.
"Okay you two, taste it!"
"A-all right..."
It...
It's so tender!
"Whoa, now this is tender! I can cut it using my chopsticks! And when I take a bite...
...it practically melts in my mouth!"
"Onions have an enzyme in them which breaks down protein, just like honey and pineapple do. That's why the steak is so tender."
You'd never believe this was a cheap cut of meat. Its savory flavor fills the mouth with each bite...
there's no knocking the combination it makes with the rice, either.
Who would've thought of using a steak grilling technique...
... on a beef bowl? ”
― Yuto Tsukuda, Food Wars!: Shokugeki no Soma, Vol. 2

“It goes without saying that the meat is tender...
... but the generous helping of minced onions on top just whets the appetite further!
And this full-bodied flavor... red wine? After searing the steak, he must have added red wine to the remaining meat juices and caramelized the onions in the resulting sauce!"
"Not only that, the sauce was beautifully thickened with potato starch! It wraps around both the meat and the rice so perfectly, it's amazing!"
"And tying it all together is the flavor of scorched soy sauce! Even char was used as a seasoning to deepen the flavor!
He made this special, unforgettable sauce building upon the onions that are so critical to a true Chaliapin Steak!"
"Both the meat and the sauce have strong, solid flavors...
yet the more I eat, the hungrier I get. In fact, it almost feels like I could eat this bowl endlessly! Why?
Is there some other secret hidden in this dish?"
"Yep! That trick is in the rice.
I added in some handmade pickled-plum mix to it.
It's crisp plum-seasoned rice!"
"Aha! So that's it!
That brisk aftertaste that encourages another bite is pickled plum!"
The tender, fragrant steak...
the beautifully thickened, perfect sauce...
and the fresh, tartly flavored plum-seasoned rice. ”
― Yuto Tsukuda, Food Wars!: Shokugeki no Soma, Vol. 2

“Just as the two of them finished their plump white asparagus spears in white sauce, they were served a selection of grilled vegetables. To think that onions could become so sweet and rich simply by grilling them! Rika had never been a fan of shishito peppers, but the ones on the plate in front of her were fragrant, with a gentle taste. Before she knew it, she'd devoured many more vegetables than she had the other night in that Japanese bistro, just a few dozen meters from here.
She was fairly sure that the red meat being cooked on a section of the hotplate not far from where they were sitting was for them. Eventually, clear juice began oozing from its surface. Even the smell of the melting fat was appealing and mild--- not aggressive or meaty. She watched transfixed as the red turned to pale pink, as the white fat grew translucent.
The meat was cut up and served to them in pieces. Rika imagined it would be steaming hot, but when she brought one of the chunks to her lips, she found it to be just the right temperature. The comfort it brought was that of a warm, affectionate tongue entering her mouth. When she bit into the aromatic seared surface of the meat, the juice from the moist, rare sections came seeping out, making the lining of her cheeks tremble. A blood-colored filament flickered across her vision.
'Apparently the garlic-butter rice here is truly out of this world. They use plenty of butter, as well as the leftover meat juices.'
Rika was looking at the rice cooking on the hotplate as she spoke. Cloaked in their mantle of amber butter, the grains shimmied and danced before her eyes. There was a sizzle as the chef poured on some soy sauce, and then the short, spirited tango was over.
Bowls of the glistening bronze rice appeared before them. Swathed in meat juice and butter, each and every grain shone potently. The rich, heady aroma of the soy sauce stoked Rika's appetite. The garlic singed to a deep brown unleashed a perilous bitterness and astringency across her palate. Slippery with fat, the rice slid across the plane of her tongue and down her throat. The meat she'd eaten before had been fantastically flavorsome, but this rice that had absorbed its juices was truly formidable in its taste. With each movement of her jaw, she felt a new lease of power surging up her body. The sense of fullness brought on a comfortable lethargy, and Rika felt she could happily drop off right at that moment.”
― Asako Yuzuki, Butter

“Just knock off the horns and hair, and toss it on the coals for about thirty seconds on each side. I like mine still kicking and quivering! -Wichita talking about steak”
― Ray Palla, H: Infidels of Oil

“Eyebrows and hair singed off, Hector is barely recognizable under a lathering of day-glow orange. He appears to have been tarred-and-feathered with orange tar and oatmeal feathers.”
― Ray Palla, H: Infidels of Oil

“As I'm paying the bill, an older gentleman with an electric-blue tie sparks up a conversation with the chef. "What's good right now? You have anything you're really excited about?" Nakamura reaches down into one of his coolers and pulls out a massive wedge of beef so intensely frosted with fat that only the sparest trace of protein is visible.
"A-five Omi beef." A hush falls over the restaurant; Omi beef, ludicrously fatty and fabulously expensive, may be Japan's finest Wagyu.
The man bites, and Nakamura gets to work on his dish. He sears the beef, simmers wedges of golden carrots, whisks a fragrant sauce made with butter and vanilla. It's the first time the beef has made an appearance all night, but by the time Nakamura flips the steak, three more orders come in. Suddenly, the entire restaurant is happily working its way through these heartbreaking steaks, and I'm left staring at my bill.
"Are you sure you want to leave?" Nakamura asks, and before I can say anything, he cuts another steak.”
― Matt Goulding, Rice, Noodle, Fish: Deep Travels Through Japan's Food Culture

“Someone there told Dad that I would be a "functional non-eater." When I hear that now, I just want to go back there and invite them to a steak dinner.”
― Amy Rankin, Nobody Thought I Could Do It, But I Showed Them, and So Can You!

“I used honey from the Amur Cork Tree !"
"Amur Cork...?!"
AMUR CORK HONEY
The Amur Cork tree is a member of the citrus family. Honey made from its flowers has a clear sweetness to it, with underlying hints of bitterness.
Depending on the weather and what other plants are growing nearby, there are years when no honey can be collected from the trees, making Amur Cork Honey one of the rarer, more expensive varieties of honey available.
"Most common honeys would have the thick, mellow richness necessary to adequately accentuate the flavor of bear meat. However, when paired with the strong savory punch of the Menchi-Katsu hamburger steak, that thick and sticky flavor would be too much, making the overall dish taste heavy and cloying.
Not so in the case of Amur Cork Honey! The hints of astringency in its aftertaste match perfectly with the flavor of the bear meat, and it prevents the sweetness from becoming too cloying. In fact, it's astounding how beautifully the two flavors go together!
Not only did Soma Yukihira discover a potent ingredient in honey, he was also diligent enough to think through its weaknesses and search for ways to refine his dish even further!”
― Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 22 [Shokugeki no Souma 22]

“We have pretzels and mustard. We have doughnuts. And if we really, really like you, we have chips and dip. This is fun food. It isn't stuffy. It isn't going to make anyone nervous. The days of the waiter as a snob, the days of the menu as an exam/ the guest has to pass are over. But at the same time, we're not talking about cellophane bags here, are we? These are hand-cut potato chips with crème fraîche and a dollop of beluga caviar. This is the gift we send out. It's better than Christmas."
He offered the plate to Adrienne and she helped herself to a long, golden chip. She scooped up a tiny amount of the glistening black caviar. Just tasting it made her feel like a person of distinction.
Adrienne hoped the menu meeting might continue in this vein- with the staff tasting each ambrosial dish. But there wasn't time; service started in thirty minutes. Thatcher wanted to get through the menu.
"The corn chowder and the shrimp bisque are cream soups, but neither of these soups is heavy. The Caesar is served with pumpernickel croutons and white anchovies. The chèvre salad is your basic mixed baby greens with a round of breaded goat cheese, and the candy-striped beets are grown locally at Bartlett Farm. Ditto the rest of the vegetables, except for the portobello mushrooms that go into the ravioli- those are flown in from Kennett Square, Pennsylvania. So when you're talking about vegetables, you're talking about produce that's grown in Nantucket soil, okay? It's not sitting for thirty-six hours on the back of a truck. Fee selects them herself before any of you people are even awake in the morning. It's all very Alice Waters, what we do here with our vegetables." Thatcher clapped his hands. He was revving up, getting ready for the big game. In the article in Bon Appétit, Thatcher had mentioned that the only thing he loved more than his restaurant was college football.
"Okay, okay!" he shouted. It wasn't a menu meeting; it was a pep rally! "The most popular item on the menu is the steak frites. It is twelve ounces of aged New York strip grilled to order- and please note you need a temperature on that- served with a mound of garlic fries. The duck, the sword, the lamb lollipops- see, we're having fun here- are all served at the chef's temperature. If you have a guest who wants the lamb killed- by which I mean well done- you're going to have to take it up with Fiona. The sushi plate is spelled out for you- it's bluefin tuna caught forty miles off the shore, and the sword is harpooned in case you get a guest who has just seen a Nova special about how the Canadian coast is being overfished.”
― Elin Hilderbrand, The Blue Bistro

“The waiter slapped down my pavé au poivre. It was not a particularly impressive plate- a hunk of meat, fat fried potatoes piled carelessly to one side. But something happened as I sliced the first bite- no resistance, none at all. The knife slid through the meat; the thinnest layer of crusty brown opening to reveal a pulpy red heart. I watched as the pink juices puddled into the buttery pepper sauce.
Gwendal looked up. I must have uttered an audible gasp of pleasure. "I don't know why you can't get a steak like this in England," I said, careful, even in my haste to lift the first bite to my mouth, not to drip on my sweater. "Since mad cow, I think it's illegal." My fork and knife paused in midair as I let the salt, the fat, the blood settle on my tongue.”
― Elizabeth Bard, Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes

“Up next," Henry said, "we have a play on steak-frites. Steak-frites was the first French food I ever had, at a restaurant down the block from ours, back home in Chicago. My dad took me there." Henry remembered the first time he'd been there, squeezing into the tiny tables, the rare steak and the crisp fries, the smell of garlic and butter, the sense that food could transport you far from Damien Avenue. "I've put my own spin on it by using a bulgogi marinade and kimchi butter on the steak, and instead of fries, those are deep-fried batons of garlic mashed potatoes."
This was one of his favorite kinds of dishes. From the outside, it looked like a traditional steak-frites, with its melting pat of butter on top, and fries that were thicker than usual but still shaped like fries. But then you started eating, and the flavors were different, and the fries were a totally different texture than what you were expecting.”
― Stephanie Kate Strohm, Love à la Mode

“No matter what anyone in North Star thought of my mom, everyone agreed on one thing: she was the best cook in the Texas Hill Country. She was known for her barbecue and fried pies. But she was most famous for one particular dish. The dish people people would drive hundreds of miles for was simply called the Number One. I imagine Momma was going to make a list of specials. The trouble was, she never got past the Number One. So there it sat at the top of the menu, alone, all by itself.

The Number One:
Chicken fried steak with cream gravy, mashed potatoes,
green beans cooked in bacon fat, one buttermilk biscuit,
and a slice of pecan pie

With Brad's words ringing in my head about my vague culinary vision, I decide to make the Number One for tonight's supper. After leaving the salon, I drive to various farm stands, grocery stores, and butchers. I handpick the top-round steak with care, choose fresh eggs one by one, and feel an immense sense of home as I pull Mom's cast-iron skillet from the depths of Merry Carole's cabinets. My happiest memories involve me walking into whatever house we were staying in at the time to the sounds and smells of chicken fried steak sizzling away in that skillet. This dish is at the very epicenter of who I am. If my culinary roots start anywhere, it's with the Number One.
As I tenderize the beef, my mind is clear and I'm happy. I haven't cooked like this- my recipes for me and the people I love- in far too long. If ever. Time flies as I roll out the crust for the pecan pie. I'm happy and contented as I cut out the biscuit rounds one by one. I haven't a care in the world. Being in Merry Carole's kitchen has washed away everything I left in the whirlwind of being back in North Star.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“When steak lovers advise you to reincarnate as an animal. You know you are dead before you even begin to live. Reincarnation is a universal joke.”
― Mwanandeke Kindembo

“It is only if everyone becomes a vegetarian that reincarnation becomes possible and acceptable. Otherwise, steak lovers cannot be trusted with those who reincarnate as animals.”
― Mwanandeke Kindembo

“But when you're depressed, you think baloney is filet mignon. You score it, marinate it, and slap it on the grill. But when you finally bite into it, reality sets in (or is it heartburn?) and you realize it ain't steak---it's baloney.”
― Chonda Pierce, Laughing in the Dark: A Comedian's Journey through Depression