The vegetables are cut so they lay flatly in the pan. The heat is high, the pan is hot, a pat of butter sizzles immediately. A lid is slapped on. The pan is tilted to distribute the butter that is 20% water and you can hear it pop and sizzle and fry in oil and steam. The pan is not shaken, the contents are not stirred. They just sit there and burn and steam. A char is put on one side of the vegetables and they are fantastic. And you must trust. You cannot see any of this.
Tomatoes are raw.
The steak is cooked as chefs do in restaurants.
How is that?
It's brutal. A poor innocent cow is cut up into pieces macabrely and expertly and its meat chunks are seared on high heat, branded again even more cruelly this time, fast and hot on both sides, then taken off, and the whole thing is still smoking dramatically, covered and allowed to rest and suffer its pain in quiet while the heat of the insanely cruel second and third branding creeps to the center of the meat without denaturing it further nor discoloring its red.
And your guests are going, "Bloody hell, how'd he do that?" And you have nothing to add beyond demonstration, "Eh, I don't know, it's a knack." This is New York steak because the cows grew up in New York. They even moo with a New York accent. Sounds like this, "Moo, get outta here."
"Where should I go?"
"Moo, I don't know.
Boston.
Bosnia
Bossier City
Bossley Park
Boscabel
Boswell Bay
Bosbury
Bos Creek, seems a lot of possibilities, just moo-oove."
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