The Ricker likes his meat rare.
Growing up, I had friends over for dinner quite frequently, as my family ate together five nights per week. We also ate later than most of my friend's families ate, so my friends were often waiting on me to finish dinner before we could start our night out.
One night in particular, I remember, both Ryan and Eric came over for dinner on a Friday. The Ricker was cooking up one of his favorite dishes, a nice chateaubriand on the grill. He had picked out this cut very particularly, as it was on sale and about four inches thick. It was always dim in my house, especially during dinner, as the Ricker likes "atmosphere." The Ricker pulled the meat off the grill and sliced it thinly, across the grain, and served himself first--serving himself before he served my mother or our guests.
Chateaubriand is an artform to the Ricker, as the cuts were always perfectly spaced and perfectly seasoned with garlic salt and dried parsley (for visual impact). Hungry, Ryan began cutting into his steak, working unusually hard. I was talking with the Ricker when Ryan and Eric began laughing quietly, to some sort of inside joke. I looked over and saw Ryan, joking, pretending he was cutting into his arm with his steak knife and pulling out a bite. The steak was completely rare; no, raw on the inside, as the meat was still cold and red. A two-pound steak four inches thick, and the Ricker cooked it for about three minutes per side.
The dead cow on the plate was just the beginning of an interesting night. You see, my dad had just had his annual physical and blood test. After telling us about his blood pressure and cholesterol ("Like a 28-year old athlete"), the Ricker proceeded to explain to Ryan, Eric and me how important prostate exams are--and how we could easily check our own prostates by sticking our thumbs up our asses. I think Ryan lost it right there, and I think Eric got up and left the room--shocked, disgusted yet laughing at the sheer randomness of this conversation. For me, it was just another day growing up with the Ricker.
Growing up, I had friends over for dinner quite frequently, as my family ate together five nights per week. We also ate later than most of my friend's families ate, so my friends were often waiting on me to finish dinner before we could start our night out.
One night in particular, I remember, both Ryan and Eric came over for dinner on a Friday. The Ricker was cooking up one of his favorite dishes, a nice chateaubriand on the grill. He had picked out this cut very particularly, as it was on sale and about four inches thick. It was always dim in my house, especially during dinner, as the Ricker likes "atmosphere." The Ricker pulled the meat off the grill and sliced it thinly, across the grain, and served himself first--serving himself before he served my mother or our guests.
Chateaubriand is an artform to the Ricker, as the cuts were always perfectly spaced and perfectly seasoned with garlic salt and dried parsley (for visual impact). Hungry, Ryan began cutting into his steak, working unusually hard. I was talking with the Ricker when Ryan and Eric began laughing quietly, to some sort of inside joke. I looked over and saw Ryan, joking, pretending he was cutting into his arm with his steak knife and pulling out a bite. The steak was completely rare; no, raw on the inside, as the meat was still cold and red. A two-pound steak four inches thick, and the Ricker cooked it for about three minutes per side.
The dead cow on the plate was just the beginning of an interesting night. You see, my dad had just had his annual physical and blood test. After telling us about his blood pressure and cholesterol ("Like a 28-year old athlete"), the Ricker proceeded to explain to Ryan, Eric and me how important prostate exams are--and how we could easily check our own prostates by sticking our thumbs up our asses. I think Ryan lost it right there, and I think Eric got up and left the room--shocked, disgusted yet laughing at the sheer randomness of this conversation. For me, it was just another day growing up with the Ricker.
posted at 10:32 AM
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