Medium Rare

 Image by Frenchentree.com

 Medium Rare

When I was still in high school I got invited by a boy to go on a real date.  These were few as my parents needed to meet the boy before they allowed me to go out and I refused, in some cases, to suffer this indignity. 

  My first boyfriend was from the church youth group so he was approved.  But I eventually got so tired of my routine with him that I hid under the house one day (with the black widow spiders) when I heard the sound of his motorcycle coming up the drive. 

“Well, that is strange . She was just here.  You can wait if you like” I heard my mother say.

The wait in the crawl space seemed interminable but finally my suitor left.  The next day I complained to my friend, Jane.  “Well, I wish I were going out with him.  You are lucky,” she said.  

An introduction was arranged and soon, Gene, was off my hands.  They made a fine couple for about a year, as I recall.  I stayed “single” throughout that year and sampled here and there. 

The second lad came later and he actually had money to take me to a restaurant.  My parents consented and off we went to a steak house.  I had never been to one.

  To raise five children and insure their college education was paid in full, my parents took us to only two kinds of eateries.  The first was for a lovely bean soup served at the counter at the A&P market.  We ate lots of saltines with that or “healthy” crackers that my mother brought with her.   …some sort of hard tack which were enticingly called “rye crisps”. 

The second was a child’s dream of a place called “Cliftons”.  It was a cafeteria but was dark inside and decorated  like an exotic island. There were favors for the kids and little parasols in our iced drinks,  …the kind of kitsch which kids adore.   That is where I had my first Salisbury steak and my first restaurant turkey slices with mashed potatoes and cream gravy.    

But never in my life were “ t-bone”, “prime rib” or any expensive cuts of meat on our family menu.  So really I knew nothing about what the French call “ saignant “ ( rare) , “a point”, ( medium rare),  “cuit” ( medium well) or “bien cuit”( well done) not to mention…”trop cuit” describing a tortured piece of beef …black and hard.  Actually, a steak cooked just over a minute on each side is called “steak rose”. 

So on this date, when we got to the restaurant and the waiter asked me how I liked my meat, I hesitated.  Was “cooked” the word he was looking for?  Finally, he asked “medium or well”?   I had no idea what he was after so I said I like it cooked all the way through.   

The conversation was labored as I tried to tackle the shriveled morsel of steak with the inadequate knife I had been given.  The date dragged on with this shy boy and my chagrin kept our conversation forced and embarrassing.   We were probably both relieved when it was over. 

It would be some years before I found myself ordering steak again.  By that time I had learned that I like meat grilled “medium rare” and it would be many more years until I would be saying “Je voudrais un steak rośe.” As I say now, “Sil vous Plâit.”