As well as Les Halles has been going so far, it was only a matter of time before disaster would strike (at least from me). While the end result was edible and somewhat decent (only after some major EMT-brand resuscitation from Mary), a major lesson was learned. Get your ingredients in line before jumping in to something you’ve not only never attempted before, but something that demands attention to detail. We decided to cook not one, two, three, or four dishes tonight but five. I overestimated my ability taking control of both the pork roast and the tartare while Mary produced three much more delicious entrants into the mix. The recipe sounded straight forward and I figured I could handle it. Wrong.
My first mistake was to start the dressing (which would serve as the bind in the recipe) without getting anything else prepped. I got the egg yolks, and mustard mixed and added my anchovies (as the recipe instructed). I then began to wonder how entire anchovy fillets might taste next to raw beef. Oh, I was supposed to finely chop the anchovies? Whoops. Chopping anchovies, in a viscous mixture of egg yolks and dijon in next to impossible. I tried the whisk bash, the fork mash and finally settled on using my fingers to tear apart the minuscule fish by hand. Not appetizing (and probably not legal in anywhere other than the home). Once the Worcester sauce, ketchup and Tabasco were added came the onion. Not prepped. Then the pickles, not prepped again and finally capers. Also not prepped! I’m batting 0 for 6 now at this point and sensing my in the weedsness, Mary took pity and finely chopped the sirloin. Guess what, also not prepped!
To add insult to fatality, after being clearly instructed to half the dressing (as were only making .8 lb of steak as opposed to 1 1/4 lb.) I promptly dumped the steak into the dressing. At this point the dish resembled thousand island dressing with bits of meat floating around for show. Ready to pitch the mess at the wall, once again Mary stepped in to remedy the situation quickly spiraling out of control. Pressing the liquefied meat through a strainer, she was able to rescue what was surely destined for the compost (after I would of cleaned it off the wall in a bout of shameless self loathing no doubt), pop it into the circle form, plate it and arrange some toasted baguette (I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right, ALSO not prepped!).
The end result was a passable tartare, a little light in color and heavy on the caper flavor. The fact that it was edible and marginally enjoyable falls squarely on the shoulders of Mary. That’s why she gets the big bucks and I need to get my act together. Mise en place. MISE EN PLACE!
