My kitchen began to smell familiar, like a ski lodge serving mulled apple cider, or a stall at Kristkindlmarkt serving glühwein. I saw this recipe over a year ago and it has stuck with me ever since. I forget now what aggregation of little forces brought me to take the time to prepare it, but lucky for me.
The recipe is simple: a ribeye marinated in a bold red wine and mulling spices for several days, and then grilled at high heat, sliced, and eaten. It comes from this article by Mark Bittman. Watch the associated video; it tells you all you need to know.
I started with the wine. It calls for Amarone, which I have never seen, but notes that any bold red wine will do. I had some Malbec open, and that's what I used. In to a pot with some sugar. (I believe the sugar does a lot for this dish; don't skimp.) You boil it, then you simmer til it reduces a little (they say 10 minutes). Add the spices: whole cloves, a cinammon stick, grated nutmeg, and citrus zest (it says orange, but I had a lemon). Cool the wine completely, immerse the steaks (I used a Ziploc), refrigerate, and come back in 3 days.
The hardest part of this recipe is the waiting. I stared at this steak for three days, poking a little, flipping it over from time to time, wondering what was happening inside. And that's the curious thing. I'm not sure a whole lot happens on the inside. The center of the steak looked like any other. I think all the marinating magic is at the edges. But it is magic. In flavor, it was like no steak I've ever eaten.
Waiting aside, the whole thing is easy. Get a cast iron skillet really hot and sear both sides of the steak to your liking. I added generous salt and pepper prior to searing. Cook it the way you would always cook a ribeye: grill, broil, roast. Slice and serve. I roasted some vegetables to go with it. At Bacaro, where this is on the menu, it comes on a bed of greens.
The flavor was extraordinary. Sugar and spice up front, with the juiciness of the steak carrying it. The fruit of the wine is hidden behind the rest, but it comes through eventually. It was a bit like candy (that you pulled from the side of a cow).
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