I first followed the good doctor’s instructions on cookware. I went to Hillsboro Hardware Monday afternoon and purchased a 8″ Lodge cast iron skillet. I seasoned it per the manufacturer’s instructions.
Tonight I went to the grocery store and stocked up on all of the ingredients necessary to make the “B3 Filet.” I went to the Publix in Brentwood, because I thought they’d have a better selection of meat than the Kroger at Green Hills. I don’t really know if it was any better, but it did mean that I had to go down every aisle because I didn’t know where anything was.
Next step, I preheated the oven. The good Doctor recommends that you just turn it up to 11 to heat the oven to as hot as it will go, and to not trust the dial as it will be off. The knob on the stove maxes out at 550, but the trusty thermometer on the inside said it was just 500. Reading ahead in the instructions, I noticed that the cast iron skillet should be “good and hot,” so I just left it in the stove while the oven preheated.
Next, filet prep:
I used olive oil per the instructions, along with salt and cracked pepper. After the oven preheated, I pulled the skillet out and put it on the burner, with the burner turned up to moderately high heat. My pan was already preheated from being in the oven, so I put the steaks in the skillet.
The instructions say, “Chaos should erupt.” What he should have said was, “Unleash Hell.”
I expected a bit of smoke, but I didn’t quite know what I was in for. My condo totally filled with a white fog, the kind that thick rich white smoke that elects popes. I left the pan on the stove and went to open the front and back doors to ventilate the house. Abbydog, being the smart dog that she is used this opportunity to liberate herself out the front door, only looking back after she got outside to wonder if she was going to have to pull a Lassie and go ask for help.
I went back to the stove and coughing madly I wondered what I should do. I put on my oven mitt and grabbed the pan to go outside out of the front door. Luckily none of my neighbors were out to see me, and finally able to breathe again I had an idea. I went back in the house and went out the back door this time, opened up my grill and set the skillet on the grill. I proceeded to flip the steaks and sear them like the instructions indicated.
I went back inside to assess the smoke damage, I went upstairs and grabbed a fan to help ventilate the kitchen.
At this point I realized that even though my house looked like a scene from Backdraft, my smoke detector had not gone off. Remember kids, always remember to change the batteries in your smoke detectors.
After the smoke cleared, I took the pan back inside and added the butter and the bourbon. (As Meat Loaf once said, “Two out of three ain’t bad.”) I had purchased bleu cheese, but in the chaos I had forgotten all about it. I covered the pan and put it in the preheated oven. For those who are interested, I used Maker’s Mark as the second “B,” it’s what I had open.
After a few minutes, I pulled the steaks out, and this is what I saw:
I pulled my “side dish” out of the microwave and plated up the steak and twice baked potates. I grabbed a Miller High Life.
Cutting into the steak, I noticed that it was just perfectly exactly the way I like it.
Because she was willing to rescue me from my own stupidity, I made sure that Abby got to share in the spoils of victory.
The night was not without casualties, however.
All in all, I have to say that the “Funkenswine B3 B2 Filet” is the best steak I’ve ever cooked at home. But out of full disclosure, I really don’t cook at home all of that often. Of course now that I have better tools, I’ll have to do it more often.