My new indispensable cooking accessory.

Silver Sulfadiazine, 1% cream.

Don't ask.

[Jenise]

Don't ask.

Have to.

Ouch!

I still have an earlier vintage of that very same ingredient in my cupboard.

Don't ask.

Have to.

I am guessing that he burned himself. I hope it is not too bad of a burn Tom.

[Jenise]

Sure Bob, but we need to know HOW. Must have been incredibly stupid or he wouldn't be holding us in suspense like this.

Of course it was something stupid. With me, you never have to guess about that part!

To make a long story. er...long (so long that it apparently won't let me post it all at once, so I'm breaking it up into 2 parts):

It all started with Elaine's confusion over meat.

My wife's dear, older friend 'Elaine' is dear, older, and very smart. But not about food. She's always liked eating the stuff, but that's as far as it went.

A week before Christmas Elaine attended a large holiday party at some Elks lodge or something, and there she had the best meat she'd ever had in her life. I know because she called the next day and told me. The conversation went something like this:

"Tom! Tom! Last night I had the best meat I ever had in my life! They had a carving station and there was this huge roast of beef and the guy was slicing from it as you went by and it was the best meat I ever had in my life! I asked the hostess what kind of meat it was and she said 'filet mignon' so I went out and bought one yesterday and you have to come over and make it for me tomorrow because it was the best meat I ever had in my life!'

When she took I breath I quick cut in. "Um, Elaine? Are you sure it was filet mignon? It doesn't usually come as a 'huge roast', see, and - "

"That's what the hostess said and it was the best meat I ever had so I went to the butcher at Costco and he sold me a giant one that looks just like it and I paid 96 dollars for it and it's the best meat I ever had and you're going to make it for me tomorrow night! Bring your stuff!"

*click*

Hmmmm.

Well first off, "bring your stuff" was her way of saying she still doesn't have anything in her kitchen beyond a stove and a floor. I was expected to arrive with everything else: knives, pans, cutting board, spices, that sort of thing. We've been friends for so long that I just keep it all packed in a box under the counter ready to go. So that wasn't a surprise.

But the giant, 96 dollar filet mignon was.

Of course what I - and you - figured out was that she lugged home an entire beef tenderloin from the butcher's. And we were right.

When I got there she laid the 3-foot long muscle in front of me.

"Waddaya think? Huh? Huh? Is that some filet mignon, or what?"

"Ah, Elaine...did you ASK the butcher for a 'filet mignon'?"

"Of course! But he just showed me a tray with a bunch of little meat circles on it. They were tiny! I told him he was mistaken, and to bring me a big one like I had at the party. I think he was trying to pull a fast one on me and get rid of those trimming pieces, but finally he came out with the real one. Isn't it great?"

"Elaine, sit down...."

The next ten minutes or so were spent explaining the fine points of beef anatomy to an increasingly embarrassed and agitated little old lady.

"Why the HELL did that woman tell me I was eating filet mignon then! How could she not know! Is she an IDIOT? And what am I going to do with A THREE FOOT LONG TUBE OF MEAT now?!!"

I calmed her down and told her not to worry about the surplus. Whatever we didn't eat that night I would graciously bring back to my house. She was actually relieved to hear that.

PART 2:

Anyway, after discussing what to do with the entire tenderloin for that particular meal, we settled on the Chateaubriand cut. "Real" filet mignon didn't sound appealing to her. She wanted a roast that could be sliced, as she'd had it at the party. Little round discs of meat weren't gonna cut it. So to speak.

So I cut out that middle potion of the tube, tied it, dry-brined it for an hour (just a salt rub - the salt draws liquid out of the meat which then forms a saline solution and is drawn back into the meat. Cool trick that adds flavor and moisture to cuts with no interlarding) and prepped some veggies while it was resting. (I don't eat veggies myself when there is tenderloin about. They take up valuable stomach space that could be used for more meat. But my wife, also in attendance, is not as militant as I on that point.)

An hour later I smeared the thing with butter and popped it into a low oven til it hit 125 internal, then pan seared the outside til it crusted (the opposite of what I learned to do growing up, but 'Cooks Illustrated' recommended this method recently and it works great - no gray ring for the outer third of the roast, it was uniformly pink right to the very edge). Out of the pan to rest on a cutting board with a blanket of compound butter for 15 minutes.

Then...*poof*!

It was gone. Just like that.

(Oh yeah. Since this is a wine board: '04 Navarro Correas "Alegoria" Cab Sauv. Mucho nice-o.)

"That was the BEST meat I've ever had!"

Yeah. I know.

We carted home the rest of the filet and the next day roasted off the thick end. Had that for a few days as sandwiches, etc.

Yesterday I made filet mignon. From the filet mignon part.

This time I went traditional, the way wifey likes it. 1. Blow the oven up to 450 degrees, with a roasting pan inside to get it just as hot. 2. On the stove sear tied mignons all the way around in a smokin' hot pan. 3. Move the mignons from the saute pan to the roasting pan and roast for a few minutes until...well, roasted. 4. Remove from oven. 5. Scarf.

Easy enough, right?

Well I somehow managed to botch Step 4.

Normally I would have grabbed a potholder or the dishtowel looped through my belt (vestige of my old restaurant days) but I happened to be holding a pair of tongs when I opened the oven doors to check the meat. The meat felt done and being the impatient/lazy sort, rather than take two freakin' seconds to lay the tongs down and grab something...sane... I just pinched the front rolled edge of that glowing red half-sheet pan with the metal tongs and lifted.

I *almost* made it.

As I lifted I was concentrating so hard on keeping the pan balanced side-to-side on the tiny tong fulcrum that I neglected to account for the slight overhang at the top of the oven door.

*snick!*

The back edge of the sheet pan caught the lip and immediately jerked downwards. Out of instinct, I yanked backwards and up to compensate.

Did you see the movie "A Christmas Story"? Remember the scene where Ralphie is helping his Old Man change the tire?

Oh, fuuuuu-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-------dge!

For a brief instant 4 perfectly seared and roasted filet mignons were perfectly highlighted by my kitchen track lights as they arced up and over my head. Three miraculously landed on the table behind me, the fourth ended up in a Welsh Corgi. But I didn't find that out until later.

Because at the same time the 450 degree half sheet pan was also flipping over. And the same stupid instinct kicked in.

I caught it.

First with my forehead though. THEN my hands. And forearms.

I now look like I've gone through some Trobriand Island rite of passage into manhood involving fire handling followed by an ant poison poultice.

But.....

It was some of the best meat I ever had.

Tom....

A tale worth telling and well told indeed.

Best
Rogov

Tongs for the story!

[Jenise]

Tongs for the story!

Well at least he wasn't sitting around ladle.

Aaargh! Tom! GREAT story, but I'm sorry you've ended up looking like you've been in a fight. Must have hurt like hell - you need to invest in a pair of welders' gloves. Hopefully you won't end up too scarred, or if you do, they'll be cool.

Cheers, Celia

Thanks for the concern and kind words, all! I can't say I'm happy I had cause to write a post like this, but since I did I'm glad you enjoyed it

Oh -

But those were AWFUL "tong" and "ladle" puns.

I learned many, many years ago to keep a pot of Aloe Vera in or very near the kitchen. Pinch off a leaf and squeeze the gel that's inside onto the fresh burn, and it'll help relieve the pain and help it heal faster. Works for sunburns too.

i hope the dermatologist did not indicate third-degree burns?

Oh Tom...you poor thing! Great story, although, I am sure you don't think that right now. Hope everything heals up quick. Glad the beef was good

[Jenise]

Oh -

But those were AWFUL "tong" and "ladle" puns.

Ooh! Now I need a bandaid--such criticism graters on me.

Great story Tom. I was laughing out loud. Elaine reminds me of a few friends of mine!
When she said it was a big huge roast that was being carved, I was thinking the old "Steamship Round."

A tale for the ages. I was going to suggest that you stick with steamed veggies for a while, but steam is really hot. Perhaps crudites? But you'll be able to point to your scars in the future and, depending on your age, refer to them as Vietnam or Iraq battle wounds.

[Jenise]

I was wasting myself on puns, but it IS a great story and so well told. I too laughed out loud over and over--Elaine sounds like a hoot. But though you make light, burns like that are a real bugger. I'm surprised you can even type.

There once was man named Tom

who cooked a filet mignon

when he opened the door

the meat attacked with a roar

causing Tom to run for the balm


Drew

Drew, I'm glad I got scorched just so I could read that.

Well...sorta.....

Oh -

But those were AWFUL "tong" and "ladle" puns.

Ooh! Now I need a bandaid--such criticism graters on me.

Dammit, don't get her started...Jenise's puns can draw blood!