“Often a fillet from Tesco can deliver this or any raggedy rotten slab of cow, just drown it in Hot English mustard. If only we could drown the weather in Hot English mustard”
I smother my steak in Hot English mustard and stab at it with a steak knife that wouldn’t feel out of place in a tower block in south London. It’s raggedy and rotted. Bills serves it up with watercress but even the first lady of garnish can’t cheer up this fuck up of a meat. I suck the stale tainted fat off the watercress and apologise to it. I say out loud how much I could murder some Kobe beef right now and Rob, my Tinder date an tonight’s dinner companion says “You know they are massaged daily with sake, the Kobe cows? It’s an ancient tradition” But this sounds like a lazy cultural stereotype to describe a covert method of murdering cows. Why does everything the Japanese do get shrouded in a myth about ancient practice. Cue the Kugo 箜篌 a harp used in ancient times. I wonder about great steak. I sometimes sneak off by myself to Sukiyaki-Tei for Kobe Shimofuri Yaki Shabu Cuts with Truffle Ponzo on the side. But when I can’t afford 90 pounds for Kobe beef I grab a steak from my local butcher. For me when I go cheap I go for a beef that has a fibrous texture to err on the side of caution. Often a fillet from Tesco can deliver this or any raggedy rotten slab of cow, just drown it in Hot English mustard. If only we could drown the weather in Hot English mustard. Scirocco on the island Naxos in the Cyclades does the world’s best steak but you have to change in Athens to get there. Hot English mustard is less than £2 or £4.94 at it’s most posh at Fortnum & Mason so just drown it in that, if you can’t afford a flight to Greece. A tasty austerity measure.