This is a story about me and a steak. A 24-oz. A5 Wagyu ribeye steak, to be more specific. If you’re unaware of the hierarchy of beef, this is the part where I tell you that A5 wagyu is the finest quality beef in the world. The name “Wagyu” (and its cousin “Kobe”) has been co-opted to the point where you’ll see it tacked onto the description of the sliders at your local airport Chili’s. That is… (most foodie voice possible)… not real Wagyu. The true prize-winning shit comes from cattle that are raised in Japan and tended to with an ancient fastidiousness. They not crammed into some pen in the middle of Kansas and forced to eat each other’s hooves. These cattle roam free in perfectly manicured pastures, eat a high-grain diet, drink the occasional beer, watch only the finest Kurosawa films, and in the process their flesh develops a fatty marbling that can only otherwise be found in your average Pittsburgh Steelers fan. It goes without saying this shit is expensive, and it should only be prepared by experienced chefs who know how to cook something like this without fucking it up. The story with this particular steak is that the folks at The Takeout sent me this ribeye—which retails for a painful $250—to me because 1) They charged it to Univision because Fuck Univision, and 2) They wanted to see how I’d Morimoto the world’s most expensive steak if cost and discretion wasn’t a factor. And reader,… [Read full story]
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