“I like my steak rare. It’ll be fine.”
Those are the words I uttered last Saturday as I cut into a self-prepared steak and discovered my medium rare steak had clearly fallen more on the rare side. Much more.
I’ll eat it anyway. It won’t hurt me. I’m a man. I’m arrogant. Especially when it comes to my ability to man a grill and my intestinal fortitude. I also didn’t want to relight the grill.
Twenty-four hours later, as I lay sprawled across the linoleum in the bathroom, I began to wonder if I had made the right decision.
E. Coli is no joke. If I’d have been a child or elderly I would’ve been hospitalized and may not be here today. As it was, I simply had 5 days of misery to ask myself why I didn’t give my rare steak a little more flame.
Now, I’m not going to become a medium-well kind of guy. Stubbornness is another male trait I have in spades. And, ultimately, rare doesn’t mean E coli. It only means I’ve hit the menu disclaimer:
* “Consuming raw or undercooked meats, poultry, seafood, shellfish or eggs may increase your risk of foodborne illness.”
But I am going to learn from my exercise in macho grill arrogance. I will learn to cook my steaks a little longer. And I will, I promise, relight the grill after cutting into a steak that gives me pause. Unless I don’t feel like it. It’ll be fine….
As a quick aside, since I’ve undermined my credibility in steak preparation, check out this guide to be sure my fate doesn’t befall you.