This is one of those times when I wish you were here or that we had Scratch ‘n’ Sniff computer monitors, because this is one damn delicious steak rub. A week and three shampoos later, my hair still smells smoky, but I really do not mind. In fact, I wish someone would hurry up and create a perfume, L’eau du Feu (Scent of Fire). This is how we like to cook steaks – in our fire pit, over logs, nice and slow, licked by flames.
If you REALLY love that charred flavour, this is how you should cook your steaks:
Deep in the far crevices of our nature burn the embers of our cave-dwelling ancestors. The concept of cooking meat over an open flame dates back to when fire was first discovered. The caveman eventually evolved into the cowboy who added a gritty cup of coffee brewed in a tin pot right over the campfire. The only thing that has changed since then is really just presentation. Dress it up on a pretty plate and have a man in a tux serve it, you now have fancy steakhouse fare.
There was a time in my young, bachelorette days when my parrot and I shared a cute apartment with a Dutch door that opened onto a small porch. These were days I could (and would) eat an entire jar of Nutella for breakfast. There was always ribeye marinating in the fridge. It’s a wonder how I did not have a heart attack by the time I turned 30. Nowadays, steaks are an occasional treat. As more health-conscious consumers committed to eating responsibly, more of us avoid large-scale meats at the supermarket in favour of the certified humane, grass-fed varieties.
One early summer evening, we city slickers decided to pretend to be cowboys, even for just a few hours in our own backyard.
You cannot beat camping with all the comforts of home and the best part is we did not have to lug anything around. I must admit, though, that I did miss the night sky dotted with infinite twinkling stars, the smell of pine trees, the gurgling of a nearby stream, but we were lucky to hear the crickets chirping and Daisy giggling.
Shawn set up a tent and manned the fire pit. Daisy was in charge of entertainment, as she always is. The menu was assigned to me and, since life is uncertain, dessert placed first in the plans. S’mores, of course. Next, I had to think about dinner, which called for simple cowboy grub of steaks, taters and corn.
Campfire cooking is not easy because the heat distribution is uneven, but great smoky flavour is a guarantee.
There was so much going on in our backyard that night. Daisy and Milou ran in and out of the tent, bouncing up and down on the air mattress. Then, before the sun went down, there were bedtime stories in the hammock with Daddy. Marshmallows roasted over that crackling fire made for a sweet finish.