Weeknight Dinner: Steak Diane
On vacation last month in Los Angeles, I noted that one of the trendiest dishes in this trendcenter was Steak Diane, and that is a trend I approve of. Steak Diane is a lush dish, redolent of the good life, perfectly suited to the luxe vibe of the cushy lounges where I encountered it in Tinseltown. It has the unmistakable vibe of the swanky sixties, evoking visions of midnight suppers in clubs and casinos, accompanied by such cold war cocktails as James Bond's own Vesper. It was also the centerpiece of many a Saturday night dinner party of the same era, a milieu in which it took its place of honor along with such concurrent, even competing, hallmark dishes of the skilled hostess as scallopini, coq au vin and negimaki.
This is partially because Steak Diane, done hostess-style, is as much theatre as food, employing a tableside flambé after which the sauce is slid onto the waiting steaks. But before we get to all of those put-upon headwaiters and/or tipsy suburbanites defying the local firecodes, we have to go back a few years to learn the history of Steak Diane. In fact, we have to go back centuries.
This is because the Diane of the steak's name is the sauce, and the Diane of that sauce is Diana, the ancient Roman goddess of the hunt (Artemis if you follow the Greek pantheon). In that cooking, sauces were not just sources of flavor but of texture; Sauce Diana was employed to help the eater manage tough pieces of game, such as venison. That sauce was cream, pepper and truffles, consecrated to Diana to thank Her for the meal and served with the crescent shaped toast points that sopped up any leftover sauce and honored Diana in her aspect as goddess of the moon.
It's not as unlikely a journey from that ancient cooking practice to mid-century America as you think. Both Larousse and Escoffier agree that Sauce Diane appeared/reappeared at the turn of the twentieth century. No one knows the exact story, but an entertaining and very plausible theory is that turn of the century chefs rediscovered the ancient Roman practice, and brought it into their kitchens and, it turns out, their dining rooms. From there it moved into and out of fashion before lodging firmly into it in the 1950s, when famous New York dining rooms in their office as bellwethers of the good life offered Steak Diane, served hostess style, as a special presentation for a special evening out, much as steakhouses offer Chateaubriand today.
It was that connection to the good life that brought Steak Diane into the American home. Thanks to the efforts of such cultural forces as Julia Child, James Beard and Craig Claiborne, American home cooks had as much an appetite for learning how to prepare fancy food as their families did for eating it. Steak Diane fit that ethos perfectly, for it took some skill to master. The pan sauce with which a chef served a grilled steak had long been one of the barometers of that chef's proficiency; now American home cooks were learning and employing those same skills, and not incidentally under similar level of scrutiny. Each cook had their house specialty -- if it wasn't sauce Diane, it was aux poivres, Choron, red wine and mushroom, even anchovy and lemon.
Today, beyond mastering the skill of not torching one's sleeves, the home cook's greatest challenge may be finding agreement on how to prepare sauce Diane. I have encountered recipes for every kind of sauce calling itself Diane from one that requires an all-day veal stock reduction to one that is essentially a compound butter. Though the definitive answer is lost to the ancient goddess of the hunt, sauce Diane should be a silken pan sauce in which very rich flavors, including shallots, cognac, and butter, are distilled to their essence in service to the steak. Regarding that steak, though again there are as many opinions as there are recipes, the most common cuts for Steak Diane are New York strip and tenderloin.
Here is my original recipe for a Steak Diane. It is simple enough to serve for Weeknight Dinner but special enough to serve on Saturday night. It does employ the irreplaceable touch of veal glâce, but I have found two good packaged glâces and provided links to obtain them. I have omitted the flambé from this recipe, as the pan is so hot when the cognac is introduced into the sauce that it reduces satisfactorily. If, however, you prefer to flambé the cognac and are experienced enough to do so, then do that once the cognac is introduced in step 12.
STEAK DIANE
This recipe serves two; it can be doubled. Since this is a splurge dinner, it is worth seeing a butcher to get the very best steaks. As for two beef tenderloins for steak, each approximately an inch thick. This recipe relies on mise en place as exemplified in step 6 below to help you effectively make the sauce.
For the steaks
2 beef tenderloins, 8 - 12 ounces each, approximately 1 inch thick
Freshly ground black pepper
Salt (Greek sea salt works well)
Extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
For the sauce
1 medium shallot
1 clove garlic
1/4 cup cognac
1 package Culinarte glâce de veau or More Than Gourmet demi-glâce
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1/3 cup heavy cream
1 bunch fresh chives
1. Rinse the chives under cool water and place on a double-layer of paper toweling to dry.
2. Remove the tenderloins from their packaging and rinse under cool water. Pat dry with a double layer of paper toweling. Place the tenderloins on a clean cutting board dedicated to preparing meat. Use a mallet to pound to an even thickness if warranted. Sprinkle the top of each tenderloin with salt and several grindings of fresh black pepper. Turn the tenderloins over and sprinkle with salt and several grindings of fresh black pepper. Loosely cover the tenderloins with parchment paper and place near the stovetop to season until ready to prepare the dish.
3. Align chives on a clean cutting board. Working from the tops of the herbs down, cut across chives to form tiny circlets. Set aside until ready to serve the dish.
4. Peel the garlic and remove the root end. Half the clove; remove and discard any sprouting from the center. Slice each half longways into slivers and then each sliver longways into matchsticks. Cut across the matchsticks to mince. Scrape the garlic into a small bowl.
5. Remove the root and stem ends of the shallot; remove the papery outer skin. Halve the shallot from root to stem; halve each half. Cut each quarter into crescents and then cut across the crescents to form dice. Scrape the diced shallot into the bowl containing the garlic. Place the bowl beside the stovetop.
6. Measure one cup of glâce, the mustard, and Worcestershire sauce into a bowl; use a wire whisk to whisk together. Place the bowl beside the stovetop. Measure the cognac into a spouted measuring cup and place the cup beside the stovetop. Measure the cream into a spouted measuring cup and place the cup beside the stovetop.
7. When ready to cook, heat the oven to warm. Place a baking dish large enough to accomodate the steaks in the oven, and have ready a piece of aluminum foil large enough to loosely cover the baking dish.
8. Drizzle a skillet or saute pan with a two-count of extra-virgin olive oil. Turn the burner to medium high and heat the oil until smoking. Add the butter; swirl pan to melt butter and mix with olive oil.
9. Place the steaks in the pan without crowding them and cook without moving until the bottom of each steak is nicely browned, approximately two minutes for rare. Use tongs to flip the steaks and cook until the second side is nicely browned, approximately two minutes for rare.
10. Once steaks are nicely browned on both sides, use the tongs to place the steaks in the baking dish in the oven. Cover loosely with aluminum foil and close oven door to keep steaks warm while you prepare the sauce.
11. Use a rubber spatula to scrape the minced garlic and shallot into the pan that you cooked the steaks in. Use a wooden spoon to mix the garlic and shallot into the accumulated pan juices while scraping up the burned bits from the bottom of the pan.
12. Pour the cognac into the pan, standing back to avoid flare-up if any. Stir constantly to incorporate ingredients and until alcohol burns off, approximately twenty seconds.
13. Use the rubber spatula to add the glâce mixture to the pan. Cook, stirring constantly, until ingredients are well incorporated and sauce reduces until thick and silken, approximately two minutes.
14. Turn off the heat. Pour cream into sauce, stirring constantly until incorporated.
15. Use tongs to remove steaks from oven and place on dinner plates. Use pot holders to hold the baking dish as you pour the accumulated juices from the baking dish into the sauce. Return the baking dish to the oven and turn the oven off.
16. Stir the sauce one final time. Drizzle the sauce over the steaks and then garnish the steaks with chopped chives. Serve immediately.
This is partially because Steak Diane, done hostess-style, is as much theatre as food, employing a tableside flambé after which the sauce is slid onto the waiting steaks. But before we get to all of those put-upon headwaiters and/or tipsy suburbanites defying the local firecodes, we have to go back a few years to learn the history of Steak Diane. In fact, we have to go back centuries.
This is because the Diane of the steak's name is the sauce, and the Diane of that sauce is Diana, the ancient Roman goddess of the hunt (Artemis if you follow the Greek pantheon). In that cooking, sauces were not just sources of flavor but of texture; Sauce Diana was employed to help the eater manage tough pieces of game, such as venison. That sauce was cream, pepper and truffles, consecrated to Diana to thank Her for the meal and served with the crescent shaped toast points that sopped up any leftover sauce and honored Diana in her aspect as goddess of the moon.
It's not as unlikely a journey from that ancient cooking practice to mid-century America as you think. Both Larousse and Escoffier agree that Sauce Diane appeared/reappeared at the turn of the twentieth century. No one knows the exact story, but an entertaining and very plausible theory is that turn of the century chefs rediscovered the ancient Roman practice, and brought it into their kitchens and, it turns out, their dining rooms. From there it moved into and out of fashion before lodging firmly into it in the 1950s, when famous New York dining rooms in their office as bellwethers of the good life offered Steak Diane, served hostess style, as a special presentation for a special evening out, much as steakhouses offer Chateaubriand today.
It was that connection to the good life that brought Steak Diane into the American home. Thanks to the efforts of such cultural forces as Julia Child, James Beard and Craig Claiborne, American home cooks had as much an appetite for learning how to prepare fancy food as their families did for eating it. Steak Diane fit that ethos perfectly, for it took some skill to master. The pan sauce with which a chef served a grilled steak had long been one of the barometers of that chef's proficiency; now American home cooks were learning and employing those same skills, and not incidentally under similar level of scrutiny. Each cook had their house specialty -- if it wasn't sauce Diane, it was aux poivres, Choron, red wine and mushroom, even anchovy and lemon.
Today, beyond mastering the skill of not torching one's sleeves, the home cook's greatest challenge may be finding agreement on how to prepare sauce Diane. I have encountered recipes for every kind of sauce calling itself Diane from one that requires an all-day veal stock reduction to one that is essentially a compound butter. Though the definitive answer is lost to the ancient goddess of the hunt, sauce Diane should be a silken pan sauce in which very rich flavors, including shallots, cognac, and butter, are distilled to their essence in service to the steak. Regarding that steak, though again there are as many opinions as there are recipes, the most common cuts for Steak Diane are New York strip and tenderloin.
Here is my original recipe for a Steak Diane. It is simple enough to serve for Weeknight Dinner but special enough to serve on Saturday night. It does employ the irreplaceable touch of veal glâce, but I have found two good packaged glâces and provided links to obtain them. I have omitted the flambé from this recipe, as the pan is so hot when the cognac is introduced into the sauce that it reduces satisfactorily. If, however, you prefer to flambé the cognac and are experienced enough to do so, then do that once the cognac is introduced in step 12.
STEAK DIANE
This recipe serves two; it can be doubled. Since this is a splurge dinner, it is worth seeing a butcher to get the very best steaks. As for two beef tenderloins for steak, each approximately an inch thick. This recipe relies on mise en place as exemplified in step 6 below to help you effectively make the sauce.
For the steaks
2 beef tenderloins, 8 - 12 ounces each, approximately 1 inch thick
Freshly ground black pepper
Salt (Greek sea salt works well)
Extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
For the sauce
1 medium shallot
1 clove garlic
1/4 cup cognac
1 package Culinarte glâce de veau or More Than Gourmet demi-glâce
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1/3 cup heavy cream
1 bunch fresh chives
1. Rinse the chives under cool water and place on a double-layer of paper toweling to dry.
2. Remove the tenderloins from their packaging and rinse under cool water. Pat dry with a double layer of paper toweling. Place the tenderloins on a clean cutting board dedicated to preparing meat. Use a mallet to pound to an even thickness if warranted. Sprinkle the top of each tenderloin with salt and several grindings of fresh black pepper. Turn the tenderloins over and sprinkle with salt and several grindings of fresh black pepper. Loosely cover the tenderloins with parchment paper and place near the stovetop to season until ready to prepare the dish.
3. Align chives on a clean cutting board. Working from the tops of the herbs down, cut across chives to form tiny circlets. Set aside until ready to serve the dish.
4. Peel the garlic and remove the root end. Half the clove; remove and discard any sprouting from the center. Slice each half longways into slivers and then each sliver longways into matchsticks. Cut across the matchsticks to mince. Scrape the garlic into a small bowl.
5. Remove the root and stem ends of the shallot; remove the papery outer skin. Halve the shallot from root to stem; halve each half. Cut each quarter into crescents and then cut across the crescents to form dice. Scrape the diced shallot into the bowl containing the garlic. Place the bowl beside the stovetop.
6. Measure one cup of glâce, the mustard, and Worcestershire sauce into a bowl; use a wire whisk to whisk together. Place the bowl beside the stovetop. Measure the cognac into a spouted measuring cup and place the cup beside the stovetop. Measure the cream into a spouted measuring cup and place the cup beside the stovetop.
7. When ready to cook, heat the oven to warm. Place a baking dish large enough to accomodate the steaks in the oven, and have ready a piece of aluminum foil large enough to loosely cover the baking dish.
8. Drizzle a skillet or saute pan with a two-count of extra-virgin olive oil. Turn the burner to medium high and heat the oil until smoking. Add the butter; swirl pan to melt butter and mix with olive oil.
9. Place the steaks in the pan without crowding them and cook without moving until the bottom of each steak is nicely browned, approximately two minutes for rare. Use tongs to flip the steaks and cook until the second side is nicely browned, approximately two minutes for rare.
10. Once steaks are nicely browned on both sides, use the tongs to place the steaks in the baking dish in the oven. Cover loosely with aluminum foil and close oven door to keep steaks warm while you prepare the sauce.
11. Use a rubber spatula to scrape the minced garlic and shallot into the pan that you cooked the steaks in. Use a wooden spoon to mix the garlic and shallot into the accumulated pan juices while scraping up the burned bits from the bottom of the pan.
12. Pour the cognac into the pan, standing back to avoid flare-up if any. Stir constantly to incorporate ingredients and until alcohol burns off, approximately twenty seconds.
13. Use the rubber spatula to add the glâce mixture to the pan. Cook, stirring constantly, until ingredients are well incorporated and sauce reduces until thick and silken, approximately two minutes.
14. Turn off the heat. Pour cream into sauce, stirring constantly until incorporated.
15. Use tongs to remove steaks from oven and place on dinner plates. Use pot holders to hold the baking dish as you pour the accumulated juices from the baking dish into the sauce. Return the baking dish to the oven and turn the oven off.
16. Stir the sauce one final time. Drizzle the sauce over the steaks and then garnish the steaks with chopped chives. Serve immediately.
Comments
Post a Comment