Steak, Rattle & Roll

I remember the way my parents' house used to smell when steak rolls were for dinner. It was a distinct mix of beef, bacon and onions—an aroma I haven't experienced for quite some time.

Recently, a friend mentioned that he made braciole. My mind immediately went to the steak rolls, and I couldn't get them out of my head. I craved the smell—and of course the taste. It was time to leaf through my trusty recipe box and find an old favorite.

I give my Grandma Perron steak roll credit; I think she would be proud of my end result. Thanks to her, my mom learned the recipe. Aside from a couple changes—mostly due to what I had in my apartment—I stayed very true to the original recipe.

Grandma Perron's Steak Rolls

1 1/4 pound thinly sliced top round (or sirloin tip) steak, pounded to 1/4-inch thickness

1 medium red onion, thinly sliced and divided

4 slices peppered bacon

Salt and pepper

AP flour, for dredging

1 tablespoon butter

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 cups beef broth

1/2 cup dry red wine

4 ounces mushrooms, sliced

2 thyme sprigs

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Cut pounded steak into equal-size portions (I cut four pieces into thirds for 12 portions). Slice each piece of bacon into thirds.

3. On each piece of steak, place a strip of bacon and a few red onions. Roll and secure with a toothpick; in some cases, more than one toothpick might be necessary. Season the rolls with salt and pepper, then dredge in flour.

4. Heat a saute pan on medium-high; add butter and oil. Working in batches, add rolls and sear on all sides. Remove from pan and place in an 8 by 8-inch baking dish. Deglaze the pan with wine and reduce by half. Add beef broth, remaining onion, mushrooms and thyme and bring to a boil. Pour sauce over the browned rolls.

5. Bake rolls 45 minutes to 1 hour or until tender.

6. Remove rolls with tongs onto a plate and cover. Pour liquid into a sauce pan and reduce until thickened, about 20 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Serve rolls with sauce—and a mound of mashed potatoes.

Growing up, the recipe was a favorite of my meat-eating family. After seeing my carnivorous husband's reaction, I'm pretty sure this will be a favorite of his, too.

Beefing Up

Day 17

I thought emulsified sauce day was heavy on the heart. But add a slab of compound butter to a New York strip steak, throw in a mound of shoestring fries, and you've got a dish that would have any cardiologist tsk-tsking.

That was the pre-lunch dish.

After lunch—which I skipped so my heart would continue to lub-dub—we made a filet with Bordelaise sauce (which comprises red wine, demi-glace, shallots and bone marrow). On the side

were pommes frites. I was tempted to eat steak No. 2 but instead decided to wrap it up for my hardworking husband. He and my heart will thank me.

Tonight, I will be an herbivore—save for a small bite of the beef medallion that will be on Ryan's plate. Just call me Iron (Wo)man.

Chef taught us some basic beef butchering, which I found to be pretty interesting. It was especially entertaining when he called on a volunteer to stand next to him so he could point out a cow's various cuts of meat.

Glad it wasn't me. I'm feeling a little beefy.

Party Hearty

Day 6

It's time for a celebration.

I made it through my first full week of culinary school. I also flambeed for the first time (and didn't burn down the kitchen). On top of that, it's my birthday.

Today I turned 29—the last year in my 20s. Signing up for the day class, I wondered how my age would stack up compared to the rest of the students. I was told "older" students mostly enroll in the evening session. I feel like I'm probably older than most in my particular class (many are straight out of high school or college), but some are in their late 20s, 30s—even 50.

My thought is that it doesn't matter how old you are anyway. Julia Child was in her late 30s when she started cooking. And my mom—the best chef I know—graduated culinary school in her 50s, although she'd been cooking impressive meals for most of her life.

Although there are certainly learned techniques (you can reference my "Tourner Up the Heat" post), I believe cooking is an art. Thus, the name "culinary arts," I suppose. Once you learn the proper methods and find out what flavors complement each other, it's a matter of imagination. There's nothing wrong with recreating a popular dish—after all, it's probably popular because it's good—but I find it most fun adapting recipes or coming up with something entirely new.

OK, enough of those tangent remarks. Today, sauces were the name of the game. I was in charge of the chicken veloute as well as the sauce chateaubriand aux champignons (wine and mushroom sauce). Yum to the latter. Instead of dumping it in the vat with everyone else's, I

selfishly brought it home. It will be perfect to thaw out and spoon over some red meat when time is tight.

I couldn't have asked for a better birthday meal. Ryan put his heart and soul into a steak dinner with creamed spinach. Finding it hard to resist the kitchen, I told him I'd prepare the bearnaise sauce. It was good at first, but after trying to keep it warm for a half-hour, it turned foamy. Bearnaise foam? Sounds like something from molecular gastronomist Wylie Dufresne's kitchen. Guess I'll have to wait for Monday when we cover sauces part two.

A steak dinner wouldn't be complete without a nice bottle of red. We broke out one of the big guns (for us, at least): a 2004 Caparzo Brunello di Montalcino. I bought it

in Tuscany in June 2009 and have been saving it for the right occasion. This seemed to be it.

We ended the evening with a cappuccino—Ryan makes the best, thanks to Breville—and cupcakes from Butter Lane. We split two: banana cake with maple frosting (my favorite) and banana cake with caramel frosting, topped with popcorn.

Sweet conclusion to a sweet week.