Alright, so let’s talk about my latest kitchen adventure: contrafilé. I decided to give it a go last weekend. You know how it is, sometimes you just get a craving for a good piece of steak, and contrafilé, when it’s done right, it’s just fantastic.
First things first, I had to actually get the meat. I went down to my usual butcher. He’s a good guy, mostly. Sometimes a bit chatty, but he knows his cuts. This time, though, the pieces looked a bit… well, let’s say inconsistent. I spent a good ten minutes just staring at the display, trying to pick the “chosen one.” He kept trying to push the picanha on me, saying it was better that day. But no, my mind was set on contrafilé. I finally picked one that looked decent enough, not too much fat, not too lean. Paid for it – and boy, prices these days, huh? Makes you think twice about a casual steak night.
Got it home. The classic debate then started in my head: to marinate or not to marinate? I’ve seen all those fancy YouTube chefs with their secret concoctions. Honestly, most of the time, I just think good meat doesn’t need much. So, I decided to keep it simple. Took the steak out of the fridge about an hour before I planned to cook it. Let it come up to room temperature. They say that’s important. Who “they” are, I’m not always sure, but I go along with it.
Seasoning was just coarse salt and freshly cracked black pepper. Patted it on generously. Some folks add garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, a whole spice rack. Me? I figure, let the beef taste like beef.
The Cooking Part – Where Things Get Real
Now for the main event. I heated up my trusty cast-iron skillet. Got it smoking hot. You want that sizzle the moment the meat hits the pan, right? Threw in a knob of butter and a sprig of rosemary I had lying around – okay, a little bit of fancy, I admit. But mostly for the aroma, you know? My wife usually comments on how good it smells, even if the smoke alarm is seconds from going off.
Laid the contrafilé in. Beautiful sound. Let it sear properly on one side. Didn’t touch it. Didn’t poke it. Just let it do its thing for a few minutes. The kitchen started to fill with that lovely, beefy smoke. Windows open, of course. Learned that lesson the hard way a few times.
Flipped it. This is always the moment of truth. Did I get that nice crust? Yeah, looked pretty good. Seared the other side. Then, I basted it a bit with the melted butter and rosemary. This is where I always start to second-guess the timing. I don’t use a meat thermometer. I know, I know, I should get one. Every time I cook a steak I tell myself, “Next time, I’m buying a thermometer.” And then I forget, until the next steak.
I usually go by feel. The old “press the steak and compare it to the palm of your hand” trick. It’s… an art, not a science, for me. Or maybe just an excuse for inconsistent results. This time, I was aiming for a solid medium-rare.
Pulled it off the heat. This next step is crucial, everyone says so: resting. Put it on a cutting board, tented it with some foil. For about ten minutes. Smelled incredible. The anticipation was building. You try to busy yourself, maybe clear a few things, but really, you’re just waiting to carve into that thing.
The Verdict and Some Thoughts
Finally, the moment arrived. Sliced into it. And… it was pretty good! Not gonna lie, maybe a touch more medium than I’d aimed for in the thicker parts, but the flavor was there. Tender enough. Definitely enjoyable. We had it with some simple roasted potatoes and a bit of salad. Classic.
It’s funny, cooking something like contrafilé. It seems so straightforward, but there are so many little variables. The cut of meat itself, the pan, the heat, the timing. You do it one way for years, then you see someone online doing it completely differently, swearing it’s the only way. Gets confusing, if you let it.
I remember my granddad used to grill contrafilé over charcoal, no fuss, no fancy techniques. And it was always, always amazing. Maybe it’s not about having all the perfect gear or precise timings. Maybe it’s just about practice, and knowing your own stove, your own pans. Or maybe, back then, the meat was just different. Who knows?
Anyway, that was my contrafilé journey for this time. It wasn’t a disaster, wasn’t a world-changing culinary masterpiece either. Just a good, honest steak, cooked at home. And sometimes, that’s all you need. I’ll probably try it again in a few weeks. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll remember to buy that thermometer before then. But don’t hold your breath.
