CHAPTER 9

Sides, Sauces, and Drinks

As a kid, Aaron’s favorite meals were definitely when his dad would cook steaks at home. But for some reason, the things that really stick out in his mind about those meals was eating iceberg lettuce drenched in ranch dressing and a baked potato with the insides saturated with butter and salt. The steaks were always good, but he remembers loving the sides just as much.

It’s a weird thing that way. No one would ever dispute the idea that the most important part of a steak dinner is the steak. Yet many of us carry a surprising fondness and longing for the nonmeat dishes we ate alongside the steak. And if some of us dig deeply enough into our memories, we may even have a revelation that the sides were our favorite part of the meal.

To this day, Jordan doesn’t want to eat steak if he can’t have a simple green salad with vinaigrette beside it (or at least a crunchy, tangy Caesar salad before it). Something about the interplay between the rich, fatty steak and the cutting acidity and crunch of the salad makes the combination nonnegotiable. Potatoes are a fixture in his memory, too, though he doesn’t so much remember baked ones as he does the classic French pairing of crispy, golden fries and steak at such Parisian bistros as Le Severo (see this page), where Jordan also recalls ordering a second side of sautéed chanterelle mushrooms (see this page) because the first one was so good.

Steak is a wonderful canvas for fresh produce at its peak. Jordan wistfully recalls the childhood pleasures of charcoal-grilled steaks beside butter-slathered summer corn on the cob, with the sweet corn the perfect foil for the salty, savory steak. Aaron thinks about all the times he’s had a fresh tomato salad with succulent bavette, their juices commingling on the plate.

Why, when you have all of this great, expensive meat, are sides so important—so desirable? Maybe the meat is more intense than we realize and our perceived appetites for it exceed our actual physical needs. Maybe the sides stand as buffers, foils, and interveners to keep us from eating more meat than we need.

One thing Jordan and Aaron agree on is that at home they always prefer a steak-centric meal with the simplest of side dishes. After all, a steak is delicious on its own, and much of the appeal of cooking steaks is that they don’t require much prep or work. This isn’t Thanksgiving, where we have to burden the table with elaborate sides to compensate for, ahem, innate deficiencies (we’re looking at you, roast turkey).

We desire clean, punchy flavors and textures that both complement and contrast with the steak. A simple salad, potatoes, grilled vegetables—that is how a good meal comes together!

When it comes to sauces, the steak you’re serving is hopefully so flavorful that no condiment is needed. (Same goes for barbecue, folks.) But sometimes, even if the steak is good, a little lubrication or complementary flavor is welcome. It might be a drizzle of soy sauce, a pat of garlic butter, or a spoonful of a classic béarnaise. But the one sauce Aaron turns to again and again is a salsa verde that can be an ongoing part of your pantry with little effort.

The following recipes for sides might seem comically simple to you. That’s because they are! But they’re also the things we never get tired of, so please don’t be insulted by their inclusion here. They’re almost like condiments themselves, the very basic things we eat with steak.

LE SEVERO

8 rue des Plantes
75014 Paris, France
tel: (+33) 01-45-40-40-91 • lesevero.fr

If you are in Paris and in the mood for a quintessential steak-frites experience, make the short trek out to the sleepy, residential 14th arrondissement to the diminutive bistro Le Severo. Actually, the steak at this quaint, old-school room is not quintessential, as that would suggest a shabby cut of meat. Rather, the steak at Le Severo, run by former butcher William Bernet, is superb: well-selected côte de boeuf (thick-cut bone-in ribeye for two) aged between three and five weeks (or shell out for the more-expensive one-hundred-day aged cuts). Other offerings are usually the faux-filet (strip steak) and the onglet (our hanger).

There is only one cook in the kitchen, yet he turns out immaculate steaks. The French tend to take their steaks bleu, which is seared on the outside but raw on the inside. If you prefer a rare medium-rare (as cooked as you’ll be able to get), order it saignant. The steaks come with reliably crispy, golden frites. And don’t skip the punchy salade verte and a plate of sautéed girolles (chanterelle mushrooms). Much of the lengthy wine list is written on chalkboards across one wall, and the wines are usually excellent—pithy, soulful bottles from small, hardworking producers. And this small, hardworking restaurant has only ten tables, so be sure to reserve yours several days in advance.

Green Salad with Garlic Vinaigrette

Jordan is a salad fanatic. He goes almost as crazy about finding perfect little heads of crisp baby lettuces—Little Gem, butter, oak leaf—as he does for well-marbled meat. The simple, unadorned green salad—salade verte, as the French say—is a remarkable creation unto itself and a brilliant accompaniment to steak. You’ve probably had the two together countless times, even if you didn’t bother to appreciate the brilliance of the pairing. It’s all about contrast: the lightness and crispness of the lettuce is a counterpoint to the rich density of the meat, while the tang of vinegar, garlic, and oil keeps the mouth fresh after a heavy bite.

The salad should be both crunchy and silky and be lightly coated with some sort of vinegar-based dressing. Whole leaves from a butter lettuce, their spherical shape intact, or the crunchy interior leaves of a romaine work especially well, but anything fresh and crisp does the trick. A mix of greens is wonderful, too: combine a head each of butter and romaine with the bitter notes of frisée or other chicory. You can serve a few handfuls of the mix and keep the rest in a plastic bag in the refrigerator for the next couple of nights. Adding whole herb leaves—parsley, basil, lovage, mint—is also never a bad idea.

Feel free to embellish your vinaigrette. Finely minced shallot adds a little sweetness and complexity, while herbs such as dried dill contribute a bright, verdant flavor.

SERVES 4 TO 6

1 head butter lettuce, leaves separated

2 cups frisée or chicory leaves (optional)

1 cup mixed fresh herbs (such as parsley, basil, lovage, and mint; optional)

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon champagne vinegar

2 cloves garlic, minced or pressed

1 tablespoon minced shallot (optional)

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard (not whole grain)

Generous pinch of kosher salt

Small pinch of sugar

Rinse all of the greens carefully and spin them dry in a salad spinner. Chill the leaves in the fridge until ready to serve.

In a small Mason jar with a lid, combine the lemon juice, vinegar, garlic, and shallot and let sit for 10 minutes. Add the oil, mustard, salt, and sugar, cap tightly, and shake vigorously until the vinaigrette emulsifies and is thick and creamy.

Transfer the greens to a large bowl, drizzle with a couple tablespoons of the vinaigrette, and toss until the leaves are lightly and evenly coated, adding more vinaigrette if needed. (Start with a small amount of vinaigrette, as you can always add more. If dressing has pooled in the bottom of the bowl, you’ve overdressed the salad.) Serve right away.

Garlicky Sautéed Mushrooms

Jordan grew up eating mushrooms alongside steak because that’s what his mother always cooked. Scents are powerful agents of memory, so for him the smell of sautéing mushrooms with garlic, butter, salt, and a generous dusting of cracked black pepper is almost inseparable from that of steak. Where did this great pairing come from? His mother says that she does it because her mother did. So where did Grandma get this technique? “It’s probably from France,” Jordan’s mom says. “She took a lot from French cooking.” Indeed, Julia Child has a recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking for sauté de boeuf à la parisienne that pairs steak and mushrooms. It calls for whipping cream, Madeira, and beef stock. This dish is infinitely more simple.

Mushrooms are almost a meat substitute. Just like a steak, they brown when they are cooked, lose some water, and develop a dense, savory texture. They’re also chock-full of umami, which make them an excellent complement to steak. The mushrooms’ function is the opposite of the role of an acidic salad. Instead of acting as a counterpoint, they enhance the steak by doubling down on richness and umami while also adding an earthy flavor.

SERVES 4

2 cups sliced brown cremini mushrooms (5 to 6 ounces), see Note

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

2 cloves garlic, minced or pressed

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

3 or 4 thyme sprigs

Flaky sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

Put the butter and the garlic in a cold sauté pan and turn on the heat to medium. Starting off this way allows the garlic to relax and steam a little as the butter releases moisture, keeping the garlic from browning too quickly. As the butter melts, drizzle in the oil. When the butter has melted and mixed with the oil and the garlic is beginning to crackle, add the mushrooms and toss or stir to coat them with the fat. Add the thyme sprigs, turn down the heat to medium-low, and gently sauté the mushrooms until they’ve reduced by one-third to one-half, about 10 minutes.

Season to taste with salt and with several generous twists of the pepper mill, then remove the long thyme stems and sprinkle with the parsley. Serve a spoonful of mushrooms on top of or just alongside each steak.

Note • Always buy whole mushrooms and cut them yourself. Baskets of chopped or sliced mushrooms have often been sitting around dehydrating for days in store produce departments. The easiest way to slice a mushroom is to cut a narrow sliver off the bulb to create a flat surface and then lay the mushroom on that flat surface and cut it into as many slices as you please.

Raw Tomatoes

This is not a joke! Nothing, you say, is sillier than offering a recipe for raw tomatoes, just the way nature made ’em. True. Instead, consider the inclusion of this concept as a recipe to remind you that nothing—nothing!—is more delicious with a juicy, well-seared steak than a few thick slices of sweet in-season tomatoes.

Served underneath a steak, the tomatoes add sweetness, succulence, acidity, and flavor. If the meat you’re cooking is exceptional, the tomatoes will only heighten the experience. And if the meat you’re cooking is meh, well, they’ll supply some of the flavor and succulence missing from the experience. On the plate, steak and tomato juices mix together, forming a delicious sauce for anything that touches it. Do this only in summer when tomatoes are at their peak!

SERVES 4 TO 6

2 or 3 large tomatoes, in different colors (red, orange, and yellow make for a nice look)

Flaky sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Extra-virgin olive oil, for drizzling

Rice wine vinegar, for drizzling

Cut the tomatoes into ¼- or ½-inch-thick slices and arrange them on the individual plates or the platter (if serving family style) on which you’ll be serving the meat. Just before serving, sprinkle with a little salt and a few grinds of black pepper. Place the steak, sliced or whole, on top of the tomatoes and drizzle generously with the oil and vinegar.

Twice-Baked Potato

Even though the Home Frites recipe on this page managed to avoid double cooking the potatoes, they can’t escape it here. If you’re not up for making fries, but still desire that sacred combination of meat and potatoes, the only answer is the classic twice-baked potato. The double-baking process provides great versatility—one bake to cook it, the other to bring it together.

SERVES 4

4 large russet potatoes

Sea salt

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature

½ cup sour cream

1 cup grated white Cheddar cheese

6 slices bacon, cooked, cooled, and coarsely chopped

½ cup finely chopped fresh chives

Preheat the oven to 375°F. Rinse and dry the potatoes, then lightly coat them with salt (this is to give their skin a little extra flavor). Place the potatoes on a sheet pan and bake until they are tender to the touch, about 1 hour. Remove from the oven and let cool for a bit.

Meanwhile, in a bowl, combine the butter, sour cream, and Cheddar (or any cheese you prefer; Gruyère and Havarti also work well). Set aside.

When the potatoes have cooled somewhat but are still warm to the touch, cut off the top one-fourth of each. One at a time, scrape the warm flesh from the small top slices into the bowl with the butter mixture and discard the skins. Using a small knife, carefully slice between the flesh and the skin of the remaining large portion of each potato, gently loosening the flesh and being careful not to slice through the skin. Scoop out the warm flesh into the bowl holding the butter mixture; the heat of the potato flesh will begin to melt the other ingredients. Reserve the empty skins.

Now, grab an old-school potato masher. Aaron prefers the kind with a flat mashing plate with square cutouts rather than the type with a rounded wire base. (In the 1950s and 1960s, Flint manufactured hands down the best potato mashers, but these gems are getting really hard to find, perhaps because Aaron bought them all off of eBay.) Mash the potato mixture until all of the ingredients are fully integrated. Add the bacon and chives and stir with a spoon until thoroughly mixed. Season with salt.

Scoop the potato mixture back into the empty potato skins, piling it well above the tops, and place the stuffed potatoes on the same sheet pan. Set the stuffed potatoes aside at room temperature for up to 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Bake the potatoes until heated through, about 20 minutes. Then, turn on the broiler and broil the potatoes until the tops are browned, shifting them around as needed to brown them evenly. Serve hot.

Home Frites

Whether you like French food or not, the French really got one thing right. The ubiquitous French bistro dish steak-frites is an all-timer, an iconic pairing of two foods that never gets old. What makes it work? Again, contrast and complement. The crunch of well-cooked fries provides a counterpoint to dense but chewy steak. The sweetness of the oil and the starchy potato complement the beefiness of the meat. Salt is the liaison. Most of us would love to be able to replicate this at home, but the fries are the stumbling block.

Have you ever looked into the preparation of French fries? For such a seemingly simple food, most fries are the result of a multiday and labor-intensive process. The procedure (or some variation of it) that many people claim makes the best fries involves several steps: The potatoes are cut and soaked in water for from a couple of hours up to a day, drained and dried, cooked in oil at a fairly low temperature, drained well, and frozen. Then, when the order comes in, the frozen fries are dropped into hot oil and fried at a high temperature until brown. This lengthy process is one reason why so few people bother to make them at home. Well, that and the fact that most people avoid the hassle of deep-frying. Thus, fries are a treat when you go out to restaurants.

However, it doesn’t have to be this way. That lengthy process is common in a restaurant kitchen where fries have to be on the table—or handed through a drive-through window—within minutes of an order being placed. If you have a little more time, which home cooks do, you can make absolutely delicious, crunchy, satisfying French fries at home with little effort.

Some people call this method “cold oil” fries. The other remarkable thing about this technique is that the fries reputedly absorb one-third less oil than the standard twice-cooked ones do. You can choose whatever oil or fat you want to cook the fries in with little guilt. That’s not just because the fries absorb less but also because the relatively low cooking temperature of 300°F doesn’t damage the oil in the same way that high-temperature frying does. Peanut, vegetable, and coconut oil all work. Animal fats like lard, duck fat, tallow, and ghee (clarified butter) also work well. They’re full of healthy fats, have a high smoke point, and leave a nice flavor.

It takes about forty-five minutes to cook these fries. Prep time is only what it takes to slice the potatoes. You can cook them as well-done as you like, and fries, unlike steak, are best when cooked to well-done. They should be crunchy and stiff. Flaccid fries are a farce.

SERVES 2 TO 4

2 to 4 russet potatoes (depending on how many fries you desire)

Cooking oil or rendered fat (such as canola oil, coconut oil, vegetable oil, peanut oil, duck fat, lard, tallow, or ghee), for deep-frying

Kosher salt

Have ready a large bowl filled with cold water. Peeling the potatoes is optional. Slice the potatoes into batons ¼ thick and 2 to 3 inches long. As they are cut, submerge them in the water. Let the potatoes soak for at least 15 minutes or up to 4 hours.

Line a bowl with paper towels and set it near the stove top. Drain the potato batons and pat them dry, then put them in a heavy pot and pour in enough oil or rendered fat just to cover them. Turn on the heat to medium-low. A few minutes into the cook, as the oil starts to heat up, use a heat-resistant spatula or a wooden utensil to move the potatoes gently around in the pot, dislodging any that might be trying to stick to the bottom. Do this again a few minutes later. As the potatoes begin to cook more deeply, they begin to soften, and, if you move them around too much, they will break, leaving little half fries that are still delicious but less impressive.

Eventually the pot will come to a boil. Adjust the heat to maintain a medium boil—not too fast and not too slow. Every 5 minutes, check on the fries. When they start floating, after 30 to 40 minutes total, they can be scooped out of the pot. Look at their color to gauge doneness, too. We prefer a nice tawny brown.

Turn off the heat and, using a slotted spoon, transfer the fries to the paper towel–lined bowl to drain briefly. Toss the fries a bit and then remove the paper towel. Sprinkle with salt, toss some more, and serve immediately.

Grilled Vegetables

The art of grilling vegetables can take two paths. One, you can do them gently over slow-fading coals. This is a good way to tenderize thick, stemmy vegetables like broccoli, cauliflower, or asparagus that need a little more time. The other path is the opposite cook them superhot and fast. This is how Aaron likes to do them—over the superheated chimney with the blast furnace method (see this page). His method takes very little time and offers a bit of char and some toothsome, semicrunchy bites. It almost mimics the Japanese binchōtan method if you don’t have any of that expensive charcoal on hand.

To go the low-and-slow method, use the coal bed after you’ve cooked the steaks and they are resting. All you need to do is turn the vegetables until they are tender.

To do the blast-furnace method, use a cheap metal cooling rack like the ones you can buy at restaurant supply stores and put it on top of a charcoal-filled chimney at peak heat.

We’ve included specific vegetables here, but feel free to choose other market-fresh options, such as cauliflower florets, whole green or spring onions, quartered red or yellow onions, whole asparagus spears, whole ramps, halved Belgian endive, halved escarole, quartered radicchio, halved carrots, and more.

SERVES 4

12 broccolini stalks, tough ends removed

20 green beans, stems trimmed

16 sugar snap peas

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for tossing

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Few dashes of fresh lemon juice

In separate bowls, toss the broccolini, green beans, and snap peas with the oil and a little salt, coating evenly.

If using the low-and-slow method, when the grill is hot, arrange the vegetables on the grates (or in a grill basket) over the fire. Depending on the intensity of the heat, either let them go for a while or stand by and move them around and flip them so no side gets burned. They are ready when they are just tender and lightly charred in a few spots.

If using the blast-furnace method, pile on about 4 broccolini at a time and cook for no more than 30 seconds on one side, then turn them all over and do the other side. Cook the stems directly over the hottest coals and leave the crowns just beyond the flames to protect them from the searing heat. Next, cook the green beans briefly before they blister too much and then follow with the snap peas, moving them both around with the tongs so they don’t burn. After you remove the vegetables, they’ll continue to cook a little, thanks to the carryover heat.

Before serving, toss the vegetables with a little more oil, if needed, and with the lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste.

Salsa Verde

Steak has made the career of many a sauce. A.1., chimichurri, béarnaise, au poivre—where would any of these be without having been given a star turn next to steak? But the greatest of them all is salsa verde. Back in the day, its friends and family just called it “green sauce,” but then it got famous and went upscale, changing its name to something a little more elegant, much as Archibald Leach became Cary Grant.

Three qualities make salsa verde the champion sauce. One, it is versatile. Yes, its intense flavor, tanginess, and umami richness mean it can go toe-to-toe with steak, and we’re convinced it’s better with a smoky grilled steak than with one cooked in a pan. But it is equally awesome with fish, grilled birds, even pasta. Two, it’s improvisational. We’ll give you a recipe here, but consider it just a starting point. Salsa verde can be adapted to fit your taste, so long as you don’t leave out the two foundational ingredients (and the source of its umami and punch): anchovy and garlic. Three, it lasts and can evolve. Aaron keeps a running jar of it in his fridge, refreshing it every time he has some extra of a new green. Whatever you’ve got—mint, rosemary, radish tops—can be thrown into the mix. Salsa verde will just evolve over time and will always be there for you when you need it.

MAKES ABOUT 2 CUPS

2 bunches flat-leaf parsley

4 cloves garlic

3 olive oil–packed anchovy fillets

1 teaspoon fine sea salt

¼ cup well-drained small capers

1 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1 teaspoon honey

1 teaspoon rice vinegar

1 lemon

Pick the leaves from the parsley stems and discard the stems. You should have about 2 cups. Using a chef’s knife and a cutting board, finely mince the parsley, then transfer to a bowl.

Using the flat side of the chef’s knife, smash the garlic on the cutting board and sprinkle with the salt. Chop and flatten the garlic and salt together until a paste forms. Next, chop the anchovies into the paste, then smear and scrape the mixture back and forth on the cutting board until the ingredients are evenly distributed and you have a fine paste. Scoop the paste into the bowl with the parsley. Finely chop the capers and transfer them to the bowl.

Add the oil, honey, and vinegar to the bowl and stir to mix well. Finally, using a fine-rasp grater, grate the zest from the lemon directly into the bowl, then stir to mix.

Make the sauce several hours, but preferably a full day, ahead of serving to allow the flavors to blend. To store, transfer to a jar, cap tightly, and refrigerate for up to 2 months. Bring the sauce to room temperature before serving.

Charred Jalapeño–Anchovy Compound Butter

Tried-and-true companions for steak, compound butters never get old. They’re nothing more than a highly effective way to add a lovely jolt of additional flavor and a little silky fat to the meat. The concept is simple take room-temperature butter and mix in some punchy flavors. Popular compound butter additions include anchovies, mushrooms, or herbs, but really anything goes.

Here, we found that the umami-rich combo of anchovy and garlic provides a perfect base for the jalapeño. Blackening the chile adds nuance and brings out its flavor. Don’t worry about too much chile heat, as jalapeños today tend to be pretty tame. If you want real heat, sub in a serrano or habanero chile.

This recipe is geared to make two good-size dollops of compound butter, but it scales easily for larger amounts, and it’s not a bad idea to make more if you like it. Wrapped tightly, the butter will keep in the fridge for a few weeks or in the freezer for up to three months. And while it’s tasty on steaks, it’s also delicious melted on corn on the cob, grilled chicken, and roasted fish.

MAKES ENOUGH FOR 2 STEAKS

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 large jalapeño chile

½ teaspoon minced garlic

1 teaspoon anchovy paste

Allow the butter to come to room temperature on the countertop while preparing the other ingredients. To char the jalapeño, if you’ve got a hot grill going, simply grill the jalapeño on all sides until blackened all over. If cooking indoors, hold and turn the chile with insulated tongs or a skewer over a medium stove-top gas flame until blackened all over. Allow the charred jalapeño to cool.

When the chile has cooled, cut it in half lengthwise, remove and discard the stem and seeds, and mince finely. By now, the butter should be easily spreadable. If not, let it continue to warm until it is soft enough. In a small bowl, combine the butter, jalapeño, garlic, and anchovy paste and mix well.

Lay a square of plastic wrap or aluminum foil on a work surface (plastic wrap is easier to use). Use a rubber spatula to get all of the seasoned butter onto the square, shaping it into a rough log, and then use the plastic wrap or foil to roll and shape the butter into a uniform log. Wrap the butter in the plastic wrap or foil and refrigerate until firm and chilled.

To use, cut the desired amount off the log and leave it to melt on top of a steak hot off the grill.

Perky Red Wine Sauce

Just as any baseball pitcher has to have a fastball, any steak cook worth his or her beans should have a classic red wine sauce in the repertoire. It’s very “French bistro,” and who doesn’t love a little taste of Paris? Recipes for a rich, complex Gallic red wine sauce—aka sauce bordelaise—tend to get slightly wonky, requiring lots of prep and ingredients like demi-glace and bone marrow. There’s no need to go to all that trouble when you can craft a simpler, yet scrumptious red wine sauce in just a few minutes. This version is especially delicious because the unusual addition of lemon juice gives it an acid perkiness that contrasts beautifully with rich meat.

As for the red wine, it doesn’t matter what you use as long as it’s dry. And smooth (not whole grain) Dijon mustard makes for the most appealing texture.

This recipe is a framework that you can adapt to your circumstances. If you’re grilling steaks over coals and want a red wine sauce, then follow the directions here. If you’re cooking a steak in a pan on the stove, make the sauce in the same pan (after tossing out all of the fat) and start by sautéing the onions so you can stir up any delicious browned bits stuck to the pan bottom. Also, there’s room to add other ingredients. Chopped mushrooms would be a natural in this; just cook them while simmering the wine. Want it to be richer? Throw in a splash of heavy cream. Want even more savory flavor? Toss in a rosemary branch with the thyme.

All those variations will help any pitcher succeed, but mastering the fastball is nonnegotiable.

MAKES ENOUGH FOR 2 STEAKS

2 cups red wine

1 yellow onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

8 thyme sprigs

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

2 tablespoons Dijon mustard (not whole grain)

2 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into a few pieces

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley (optional)

In a small saucepan, combine the wine, onion, garlic, and thyme and bring to a low boil over medium heat. Simmer until the wine has reduced by half. Turn off the heat, and when the wine has stopped bubbling, pull out and discard the thyme sprigs. Add the lemon juice and mustard and whisk until blended. Whisk in the butter until it melts and the sauce thickens slightly, then season to taste with salt and pepper.

Plate the steaks and spoon the sauce over the top, or spoon the sauce onto individual plates and lay the steaks on top. Sprinkle with the parsley and serve.

Drinking Steak

What to drink with a steak is as important a question as what sides to serve with it or who to eat it with or even which college to send your kids to. That is to say, it’s important. Why? Because can you imagine only drinking a glass of water with a steak? If you’re going to put steak on the menu, it needs to be matched in level and intensity on the beverage front. The balance and harmony of the meal demand it.

Aaron physically can’t grill anything without a beer in his hand (or it waiting impatiently for him on the table nearby), and he often carries the style of beer he’s drinking into dinner with the steaks. At his house, it’s almost guaranteed to be an Austin beer like Live Oak Pilz in a can. Jordan has had many memorable bottles of wine with steak and seemingly none of them was bad. But there was that one frigid winter night a couple years ago, where the heat in the house wasn’t working and he, his wife, Christie, and a couple of friends were staying up late huddled around the fireplace for any shred of warmth. Around midnight, hunger returned, and Jordan threw a steak over a little grate in the fire and opened up one of his favorite Italian reds, a Barolo Monvigliero from Fratelli Alessandria in Verduno. When the sizzling, slightly smoky steak came out of the fire, it was perfect with the heady dark cherry flavors of the wine. Talk about staying warm.…

The good news is that steak is versatile with beverages. It doesn’t work with everything—put away the margaritas and daiquiris, for example, or the Sauvignon Blanc—but it does open its big, steaky arms wide in embrace of a vast number of possibilities. And to be clear, we’re talking adult beverages here. Let’s look at the major categories.

BEER

To quote Homer Simpson, “Ah, good ol’ trustworthy beer. My love for you will never die.” According to Aaron, beer is what to drink with steak. Remember that old restaurant chain Steak and Ale? They got at least one thing correct! And all styles work pretty darn well. If you’re doing it right, you’ve been drinking beers through the entire steak-cooking process, so it just makes sense to continue on into the meal. Aaron prefers light, crisp beers in general, about the same ones that go with barbecue, unless it’s wintertime. That’s a different scene.

Not a big fan of superhoppy beers like huge IPAs or really bitter pale ales, he stays away from them in general, which works here because they’re not that good with steak. They don’t actually go with many foods, but sharp and tart hops particularly grate against the flavor of beef. If you like extreme hoppiness, consider adding a sauce or condiment to the steak. A pungent, herbal salsa verde or chimichurri sauce will help bridge the gap.

Steak calls for beers that show the flavor of the grain, whether it’s a creamy, sweet, oaty flavor or a roasty, toasty malt. Provided they’re well made, some lighter beer styles will work with steak. A nice, malty Kölsch, for instance, could be good with a leaner, thinner steak. A pilsner with substance is always good no matter what, but it’s also great with steak, especially on a hot summer night. A classic brown ale works in fall or winter.

Dark beers are classic with steak, as they’ve got all this creamy richness that plays right into the silky texture of the meat, as well as that roasty, toasty quality that picks up the char. Look for porters, stouts, and bocks that aren’t too extreme in alcohol or hops.

AARON’S FAVORITE STEAK BEERS

Live Oak Pilz • One of the best beers around, this is a go-to pilsner that’s also great with steak. Live Oak is an Austin, Texas, brewery that makes clean, perfectly balanced beers in largely classic styles. This one has a nice grainy feel and a modest hoppiness that give it a little edge.

Double Mountain Kölsch • A great Oregon brewery, Double Mountain makes this crispy ale all year long. It’s unfiltered, so there’s a nice creaminess to it, and it has a bit more hoppy character than you’d find in a straight-up German Kölsch. It’s great with a steak, especially when you want the meat to really take center stage.

Anchor Steam Beer • From Anchor Brewing Company in San Francisco, this is just one of the great all-around beers that never gets old. It’s right down the middle—not too light, not too heavy, not too sweet, not too bitter. The body is perfect to put with beef, but it’s still crisp and refreshing, too.

WINE

Red wine was seemingly invented for steak. Indeed, it’s not hard to imagine the ancient Romans or the Celts tucking into their rich hunks of fire-roasted aurochs while quaffing some lustrous red tapped straight from the barrel. For Jordan, steak can almost be an excuse to crack some lusty bottle of red wine, as few other foods have the chutzpah to go with some of today’s richer reds. He’s been writing about wine for years, and his wife is a former sommelier who now is a wine professor at the Culinary Institute of America in Napa Valley, so he’s constantly surrounded by wine, except when he’s with Aaron, when he’s constantly surrounded by beer. But beef and red wine is one of the greatest matches on Earth, and he never gets tired of putting the two together.

The affinity between red wine and beef is no accident, and chemistry explains why they work so well. When you eat a bite of steak, it laces the mouth with molecules of fat and protein that cling to receptor cells on the sides and the roof as well as the tongue. This is how we taste steak and why, as its flavor lingers on the mouth, it bestows our minds and bodies with a sense of well-being and nourishment at the intake of nutrients like protein and fat.

Let’s take one second to look into red wine. Wine contains compounds called tannins, which are organic, antioxidative substances that occur in tree bark and wood as well as in the skins, seeds, and stems of grapes (and also in tea leaves). The reason red wines—and not many whites—contain tannin is that the color and substance of the reds come from steeping the juices of the grapes with their skins (and occasionally stems) during fermentation. During this process, tannins are extracted from the skins, much in the same way the color and flavor of tea comes from steeping a tea bag in hot water. And like tea, if you steep wine too long, it becomes bitter and astringent. But if the winemaker does the job well, the level of tannins in the wine will be just right, and the wine will be robust, substantial, and structured rather than bitter or astringent. Tannins contribute mightily to the sense of body in a red wine.

Chemically, tannins also bind to protein and fat molecules, like the ones that are clinging to the inside of our mouths after a particularly succulent bite of steak. So when you have that sip of red wine, it’s literally coursing through the mouth, grabbing ahold of the loitering steak molecules and stripping them off of your tongue. The result of this theft is not an immediate sense of loss, as the delicious flavor of a fruity and savory red wine replaces the flavor of meat. Rather, the result is a sense of revitalization. Wine has cleansed the palate and refreshed it, prepping it for the next bite of delicious steak. In this way, for better or worse, red wine helps us consume more steak and makes it more pleasurable, so that instead of the buildup of proteins and fat become boring and ponderous, our mouths are continually revived, allowing the pleasure of eating steak to be experienced again and again. The binding of tannins also makes the wine taste silkier.

Pretty much any red wine fulfills this function. Cabernet Sauvignon, the world’s most popular wine grape, also happens to be one of the most tannic of all reds, which only supports the popularity of beef. California Cabernet is even more tannic than Cabernet from Bordeaux, France, the most famous region for the production of the wine. But in most California Cabs, you might not sense the tannin as acutely as you do in Bordeaux wines (which historically have been known for astringency in their youth, a prime reason these wines were aged, as tannins fall out of the wine over time, making it smoother and softer) because the warmth and brightness of sun-drenched California vineyards ripen the tannins to a greater degree, making the wines thick and chewy. Plus, the wooden barrels in which these wines are aged contribute a toasty, charred flavor that echoes the Maillardian sear on the exterior of the meat. This is why California Cabs have become a classic accompaniment to a good, American-style charcoal-grilled ribeye. The more sumptuous the steak is, the greater its affinity for big, tannin-rich reds.

Of course, reds other than Cabernet Sauvignon work well, too. Syrah, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Tempranillo, and Sangiovese are all fairly tannic wines that will be just as good. Lighter, less tannic wines like Pinot Noir and Gamay also make great partners.

Red wine is not wine’s only answer to steak, though. In many cases, white wine can also be a match. White wine lacks the tannin of red, but it still has great acidity. The acids in wine also cut through fat and refresh the mouth. (Red wines have acid too, just not usually as much as whites.) The reasons whites are less popular than reds with steak are body and flavor. Much as lighter, hoppier beers like pilsners aren’t classic steak pairings, white wines lack the body and substance to stand up to steaks and their flavors tend toward herbaceousness and green fruits. One exception to this is Chardonnay, especially in its greatest incarnation in the white wine of Burgundy. Dallas steak chef John Tesar of Knife (see this page) has shown how the pairing of white Burgundy and well-aged steak is the most remarkable combination. What makes this match so magically delicious? We have no idea, but it’s amazing.

SAKE

The idea of pairing sake and steak might seem unexpected to Americans, but after visiting Japan in early 2018, Jordan was converted to the joys of izakaya beef paired with light, transparent sake. It wasn’t an easy conversion, and to get it, you have to try to let your mind get into a particularly Japanese sensibility, paying attention to smaller, subtler details referencing texture, art, and nature.

Japan is, of course, the land of Wagyu cattle—the world’s most outrageously decadent and marbled beef—and is where steak is consumed in bite-size cubes that are as rich as entire ribeyes in the United States. Drinking sake with those steak cubes is a common activity in Japanese steak houses and izakayas, which are essentially mellow drinking spots with short menus of simple dishes. Classic Japanese steak from rich, fatty Wagyu cattle might seem the perfect candidate to pair with Cabernet Sauvignon. And it does work well. But sake is pretty much the opposite of Cabernet Sauvignon. Made from water and white rice, it has no tannin, no color, and its flavor is much subtler than that of a big red wine. Great sake is usually appreciated as much for its delicacy and grace as we respect wines and beers for their robustness and power.

WINE AND STEAK, MATING FOR LIFE

Here is a rundown of some great steak and wine pairings from the wine regions of the world.

France • Several of the world’s greatest steak wines—Bordeaux, Loire Valley (Cabernet Franc), Burgundy (Pinot Noir), and northern Rhône (Syrah)—are French. But to choose one, it would have to be northern Rhône Syrah. Just can’t escape that pithy dark red and purple fruit, wild gamy notes, and moderate tannins are perfect with a juicy cut of steak. Almost any Syrah would do, but a moderately priced, easily sourced one like Saint Joseph Rouge from Domaine Faury is nearly ideal.

Italy • Many Italian wines are remarkable, but because the heart of Italian steak culture is in Tuscany, the compulsion is strong to go with a Sangiovese-based wine, native to the area. Something strong but not too heavy or oaky will do the trick, showing bright cherry fruit and lots of juicy acid to counter the fat in the steak. Try the Rosso di Montalcino from Le Ragnaie.

Spain • The greatest steak country in the world also has, unsurprisingly, tons of fantastic red wine, lots of it big and burly to go with the flavor bomb that is Spanish beef. But you don’t want the wine to overpower the meat, which is possible, so something with a little grace and restraint is in order. With a great steak from an older cow, try a wine from great steak lovers, Olivier and Katia Rivière, whose Gabaxo, from Rioja, is made from Tempranillo and Garnacha.

California • In some ways a fusion of Spain, Italy, and France, California brings together a longstanding red wine tradition, a climate where it’s almost always possible to grill steaks outside, and a great local meat scene. The variety of reds and of vineyards in California makes choosing difficult. But Napa Valley is king for a reason. There’s a young guy making killer wines up on Diamond Mountain who also happens to be passionate about steak. His name is Ketan Mody and his wine projects, Beta and Jasud, are focused on handmade and hand-grown Cabernet Sauvignon from rocky, wild sites on Diamond Mountain and Mount Veeder. You can’t find better steak wines than these, and it helps that Mody himself is a steak fanatic.

So it’s easy to see why people pair sake with the delicate tastes of fish and vegetables. But steak? Well, sake comes in many styles, some of which are not as delicate and finessed as the styles we usually see here in the States. Also, we have to remember that while the flavor of Japanese steak is reliably and intensely beefy, the texture can be quite different from American beef because of the amount and qualities of the fat. Wagyu steak offers that melt-in-the-mouth feeling thanks to a higher concentration of oleic acid. The graceful explosion of juicy, lithe fat in a bite of Wagyu is the real entry point for a sake pairing, as sake has a parallel silkiness.

A typical sake can be fine with steak, but a couple of styles really stand out. The first category—which is one really growing in popularity among sake aficionados—has two variations, kimoto and yamahai. These styles use native, wild bacteria in the fermentation. They bring an unpredictable and slightly earthy, wild, and umami note—it’s subtle, but noticeable—that makes a wonderful pairing with the savoriness of meat.

Another category with great affinity for beef is nama-zake. The Japanese word nama means “fresh” or “raw,” and that’s exactly what a nama-zake is—unpasteurized, unadulterated sake. As with milk, beer, eggs, and so many other products, pasteurization is a process that neutralizes some enzymes and kills unwanted bacteria, ensuring a long and stable shelf life. But because many of these bacteria and enzymes influence the overall character of the brew, there are trade-offs. Most sakes in Japan are pasteurized twice, which means they have been literally stripped of these defining elements. A great nama-zake will have a robust, vibrant, and complex flavor and mouthfeel. It may lack some of the delicacy and finesse of other styles, but that’s simply because it remains in possession of all of its parts. Alongside a juicy, well-crusted steak, it will hold its own, providing umami-rich flavors and creamy texture to clean the palate.

Seeking out individual bottles of sake can be a tough task. It’s better to know a few good importers whose products can be trusted, because they select great breweries and then take care of the (inevitably fragile bottles) throughout the importation process. Look for the names of these importers on the backs of the bottles: MTC, the sake division of mega Japanese product importer Mutual Trading Company, based in Los Angeles; Vine Connections, based in Sausalito, an unusual company specializing in South American wine and artful, high-end sakes; JFC, another big importer of Japanese products with a huge and rich sake book; World Sake Imports, based in Honolulu, which has a small but brilliantly chosen selection; and New York’s Joto Sake, a reliable importer of fascinating and high-quality product.

SPIRITS

Sorry, gin, but without question, the best spirits to pair with steak are whiskey and mezcal. Yes, we celebrate and revel in the venerable tradition of martinis and steaks. However, the association of the two isn’t exactly a pairing. Martini consumption ought to come before and leading up to the steak. A martini is cold, clean, and crisp, a seemingly sensible way to transition out of the prescribed rationality of the workday into the carnal pleasures of dinner and beyond. But the two should remain separate because the martini (and we’re talking gin here; vodka is just flavorless booze, so don’t bother with it) is the opposite of a steak. It’s cool and bright, slick and herbal, almost giving the feeling of disinfecting the mouth. Steak is dark and warm and juicy and chewy and bloody. If you’re a spirits drinker first and foremost, have the martini(s) in advance and change gears with the steak.

COTE

16 West 22nd Street
New York, New York
tel: (212) 401-7986 • cotenyc.com

New York has a venerable and well-documented steak house culture, so to write another tribute to Peter Luger or Keens or Sparks seems unnecessary. It’s more fun to talk about a new shrine to beef that has emerged in recent years: Cote. We’ve all had Korean barbecue, but Cote fashions itself as a Korean steak house, a detail emphasizing the focus on high-quality, dry-aged meat.

That focus is instantly apparent on looking at the menu, which features large, color images of the best cuts, from marinated short rib to hanger to ribeye to “Cote steak” (chuck flap). All beef is Prime or higher and dry aged in the basement aging room a minimum of a week, with cuts aged from 45 to over 100 days available on request (we even tasted some at 220 days). As in Korean barbecue, Cote’s steak is cooked by staff on a little glowing grill set into the tabletop and is accessorized with all manner of tangy, fermented Korean goodness, such as soy stew (anchovy broth with zucchini, tofu, and potato), kimchi stew, and banchan (a collection of umami-rich side dishes). All of the accompaniments make for deliciously zesty contrast with the unctuous beef that’s coming right off the grill to your plate. Although the sexy vibe of this Flatiron District hot spot is both modern and Western, the flavors don’t hold back on Korean funk.
It’s a wonderfully satisfying experience.

Another thing Cote gets right is the beverage program. The inclusion of slurpy frosé tells you that the place doesn’t take itself too seriously, but the creative cocktails are complex and well balanced. And the lengthy, well selected wine list—dedicated to small, rarefied producers—balances perfectly with the Korean elements. Cote is a unique and delicious experience that should be on the radar of any true steak lover.

Whiskey is the classic pairing for a reason. Sweet woodiness from barrel aging echoes the toasty savoriness of the steak’s grilled crust and smoky overtones. The sweetness from the grain of whiskey connects to the subtly caramelized sweetness of the Maillardian crust. And whiskey’s rounded, soft texture plays to the juicy explosion of well-marbled meat on the tongue. When it comes to choosing whiskeys to pair with steak, anything goes. But the sweeter-tasting profiles of American whiskeys do seem to make the best matches, whether it’s the corn-based softness of bourbon or the spicy savor of rye. (And let’s not forget that most American cattle are fed grain in their last months, making the pairing even more intuitive.)

Other whiskeys work well, too, but warrant some discernment. For instance, single-malt Scotch whisky can be great with a steak, but not all styles. Heavily peated single malts, such as the famous ones from the islands of Islay or Skye, are often so powerfully briny and flavored with iodine or seaweed that they can overwhelm the inherent sweetness in a good piece of beef. The more approachable Speyside styles work better. Scotch has a drier and more austere character than the typical American whiskey, highlighting the grain over the wood. Because single-malt scotch has such a fiercely unique expression of character, the old classic blended scotches (Johnny Walker, Chivas, and the like) are good compromises for steak. These whiskeys blend dozens of different scotches together to form some sort of a composite expression of Scotland as a whole. The best of them will balance subtle smoky notes against a range of grain and oak flavors to come up with something tasty, if not fervently expressive of any particular place or intention.

Japanese whisky can also be very good with steak. Like sake, most Japanese whisky prizes finesse and balance over other qualities. Although their cues come from Scotland, Japanese malts are gentle brushes with silk compared with the cudgel of many single-malt scotches. They tend to ride the line between savory and sweet and powerful and subtle. This deft balancing act they perform make them good for, let’s say, ordinary steaks. If you’re going for a big-impact steak—starting with a superthick cut, heavy smoke and seasoning, and a big, dense crust—a Japanese whisky might be overwhelmed. However, thinner cuts seasoned simply and carefully can be perfect with a Japanese malt.

When it comes to agave-based spirits, mezcal, because of its smokiness, makes a more interesting steak match than tequila. And we’re just talking straight up here, not in a margarita or any other cocktail that diffuses the flavor of the spirit. Tequila can work adequately with a steak, but its general notes of pear and herbs tend not to complement beef. When you age tequila—when it becomes reposado or añejo style—it takes on more of the character of whiskey and will match with steak a little better. In contrast, premium mezcal, which is made with agave cooked in an underground pit, possesses a native smokiness that harmonizes beautifully with grilled steak. If you throw in a side of grilled Padrón peppers and onions, the pairing will be perfect.