20 July 2001
Pixie and I somehow got onto the subject of "status food" over lunch today. Steak and onion sandwich for me, pasta and smooshy french bread for her.
An explanation perhaps? Well, while making a rather paltry wage as a temp the ultimate dinner treat for me, the one meal I lusted after from my days of parents preparing food and my step-dad's gourmet menu every night, was steak and green beans. (Although at times other members of the family were picky, I don't think that ever in eight years did my step-dad make a meal I didn't eat or enjoy. Other than the aubergines thing, but I can't talk about that. I just can't. Don't make me, please)
Juicy, tender meat, with maybe a thin vein of fat at one edge easily trimmed away but that adds just that little hint of flavor during cooking. With a dollop of Dijon mustard to one side of the plate beside the mound of crunchy green beans bathed in seasalt and butter. Like prone green Victoria Beckhams... uh... okay, that's going a little far I guess.
Sidenote: Why for some reason do I always associate milk with steak? Whenever I buy milk I think of steak and vice versa. Whichever I get to first reminds me to buy the other. Some subconcious association sees a steak in a frying pan in a pool of milk. And I refuse to even attempt it. I don't know where the mental image came from, I doubt any chef has ever done it... and yet...
So as a temp the best I could do was have roast beef sandwiches. Not quite as good. So, upon making it in London, and having sorted out what "monthly expenses" were and discovering what some people call "disposable income" (do I have to declare it on my taxes? Do we do taxes in this country? Am I about to get investigated for them now that its become apparent I don't know one way or the other?) I took to getting steaks. Big steaks. Yum.
The whole reason for this blog is of course that after a few minutes of poking at the pasta before her, Pixie stopped, looked up at me and said "Wagamama Ramen delivered from Camden". How New Media can you get?
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