High Steaks
Ahead of the release of his new cookbook Steak, local award-winning writer Tim Hayward shares a recipe for the perfect steak sarnie
So much in the world of steak is about display, luxury and status, and perhaps that’s why nothing feels quite so decadent, quite so much like ultimate self-care than a quiet, solo steak sandwich. Sure, you can make one for someone you love very much, but as the eminent philosopher RuPaul clearly expressed it: ‘If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?’
I should begin by saying almost any steak tastes great between slices of almost any bread, but there is a textural issue. Bread tears easily in the teeth, but steak has a strength and resilience that requires carnivorous tearing (on that note, how did tyrannosauruses manage to get a steak up to their teeth with those tiny arms?), so the meat needs to be either sliced quite thinly or chopped into a multiplicity of chunks.
There are some time-tested models of ‘steak in bread’ that take this necessary slicing into consideration. Perhaps the most obvious is the hamburger. Yes, sure, it’s minced (ground) meat and it has been debased in most of its many iterations, but you can’t argue that the hamburger is one of the most popular and recognisable foods on the planet – and by the definitions of this book, it’s a kind of steak sandwich.
The French dip is an American diner staple which, though it uses sliced roast beef rather than anything we may recognise as a steak, brings with it the astonishing innovation of a meat juice or gravy dip. For fans of British cuisine, the ‘stottie cake’ – a round, flat loaf from the north of England – offers a similar thing, as it is often enjoyed with a filling of roast beef and gravy. Both of these offer much for us to learn from.
In Philadelphia they have the Philly cheesesteak, which uses cheap steak, cut into finger-sized strips across the grain and browned on a hotplate. It’s then combined with equal quantities of stewed onions and melted mystery cheese to create something that looks, frankly, like something that’s passed through a dog. Served on a bun, however, it demonstrates much about the clever technique of using cheap cuts for flavour and making them more palatable by manipulation. It also captures and utilises all the juices of the cooking process.
My favourite steak sandwich combines influences from all these, stealing freely. After some trial and error, I think I’ve found the ideal combination… at least for now.
