Oz and Steak Tartare

When I was in college, I was friends with a guy we all called Oz. "Oz" was a shortened version of some other name that the average Midwesterner could not pronounce. Oz was from somewhere far away. His home land wasn't really a country, he explained. It was a "No Man's Land"...the mountain range between Uzbekistan and...??? Turkmenistan? Russia? Exactly where, I cannot quite recall. But he would glaze over with reverie when talking about home and riding horses in the mountains.

Oz was incredibly striking... almost in a fear-inspiring way. He was very tall, and had long hair, black as pitch, waving down to the center of his back. His skin was not white but neither was it brown. You couldn't really discern any particular ethnicity when you looked at him. And he liked to troll through town in tall boots and sweeping military coats, with that long black hair blowing behind him in the frigid Chicago wind. Oz was very quiet, yet quick to smile.

I mention Oz because he represents the fantastic picture I have in my mind about marauding Eurasian horsemen. Just say "Khan" or "Visigoth" to me and my mind's eye sees Oz galloping in his tall boots through the mountains of Blah-blah-blah-zikstan. Don't you remember being in school and learning about the the Goths, the Voguls, the Huns, and so on and so on? They galloped through Asia, Turkey, the Middle East, Russia, and Eastern Europe putting fear into the hearts of meeker folk.

Legend has it that one of the most feared tribes was the Tatars. The Tatars had many conquests under the leadership of Genghis Khan's grandson, Batu Khan. It is said that when the Tatars descended on a region, the soon-to-be-conquered people could hear the hoofbeats of the Tatar warhorses thundering from miles away..."Tatrrrr! Tatrrrr!"

All that marauding didn't leave a whole lot of time for cooking. The legend explains that Tatars would hunt what they could, throw the meat under their saddles to tenderize during long rides, and they would chop it up finely and just eat it raw in the evenings, on their way to the next pillage. Eating raw beef later became known as "Steak Tartare" (a bastardization of "Tatar")

Is this where we really got our culinary classic Steak Tartare? Honestly, I have no idea. But it is certainly more romantic than some French chef who didn't feel like cooking a nice cut of beef so instead served it raw. For this reason alone, I am going with the legend.

So swept up in the legend was I that I decided to make Steak Tartare tonight. Let me preface this by telling you that I was a vegetarian for 12 years. I have an embarassingly sensitive system and get foodborne illnesses easier than most people, but life is for the living, so I decided to live a little...raw food style.

I started with the butcher at my favorite grocery store:
ME: "Hi there. It doesn't have to be tenderloin, but it could be...but what's the absolute freshest cut of good beef you have? I want to make Steak Tartare."
He gave me something he had pulled off the truck 10 minutes ago and was just cutting into filets. For your reference, I think it was a Delmonico, or rib steak.

I took this home, salted it, sliced it as thin as I could, and then gave it a brief pulse in the food processor. Minced meat in seconds flat. I then formed the meat into a little patty, seasoned with pepper, squeezed half a lemon over it, and just waved some olive oil over the top. For condiments, I chopped a sweet onion, emptied a bottle of good capers, pulled a couple gherkins from a bottle, shaved some fresh parmesan razor-thin, AND put a raw egg yolk on top of the meat (OK. I admit it. I used a pasteurized egg. Chickens are dirty birds.) I pulled out an appetizer knife and some crostini and called mi esposo to come be my witness as I started to sample this uncooked food of the Barbarians.

Raw meat. Raw egg. It's a little scary, right? I bolstered myself with the fact that the Tatars took over A LOT of villages on this diet. That thought gave me some courage and I dug right in.

Oh, my word. Eat more raw beef, brothers and sisters. If it is possible to feel high on food. I did. It was better than any expensive wine or ultra dark chocolate I've ever had. I may have to indulge in this a couple times a month.

I feel fantastic. I loved this meal. I am soaring with the eagles, images of Eurasian horsemen in my head.

Oz, it is said, dropped out of college suddenly after being called back home by family to his mysterious fatherland. I hope Oz (my mental image of the great Tatars) and I still have some kind of strange kinship. Life is funny. Maybe we will cross paths again. I'll gladly put together some Steak Tartare for my old friend...see if it resonates for him as it did for me....