One fine dry, dusty afternoon in the Old West, a bad man got up. On the wrong side of the bed. Of course. He scratched here and there, you know, the best places. He splashed some water here and there. To wake up, not for hygiene, mind you. He got a slug of whiskey from the mostly empty bottle. Rotgut. But it woke him up, mostly. He realized that he didn’t have any breakfast. Besides the whiskey, and he was hungry. So he got dressed. He put on his:
Black, shiny gun belt with
Black, shiny holster and
Looked around for his black boots. Found them. Put them on over his — white socks. Put the black blanket and black saddle on his black horse, and rode off to the nearby town.
He got to the eatery, pulled up his horse, dismounted, tied off the horse, and stalked indoors. It was late afternoon, and there weren’t too many people. The waitress took his order — char-grilled steak, medium rare. This was the only right and sensible thing he’d done all day and this is not a hard thing to make.
To do MTR’s Bad Man Steak, make a marinade as follows:
2 tbs. Original Worcestershire sauce
2 tbs. White Worcestershire sauce, they’ve changed names several times. I think they label it for chicken now. Nonsense. Good for lots of stuff besides yard bird.
2 tbs. decent red wine. If it’s not good enough to drink — don’t cook with it.
4 drops your favorite hot sauce. I like the McIlhenny’s Tabasco.
Small pinch dried mustard
2 good sized cloves of garlic, smashed and chopped. If your hands are getting like mine, a garlic press may be your friend. Clean a garlic press immediately after use. If the garlic residue dries on it is a pain to get clean.
Kosher salt to taste.
Fresh ground pepper to taste.
Mix up all the above, whisk works well. Soak the steak for a couple of hours. Grill hot and fast, basting with the sauce. You want the outside charred and the inside medium rare. This can be also done in your broiler, just get it good and hot before you shove the steak in. Line the pan with foil and squirt the rack with Pam or other no-stick spray, this sauce is hard to clean up. If the steak is less than 1″ thick, you may want to try broiling from a frozen state. That way you can get the outside cooked without getting shoe leather inside.
Incidentally, sauteed mushrooms and onions go well with this. Just heat up a skillet with some butter and/or olive oil and fry them up on medium heat.
Now, our bad man finished his steak and trimmings. He kicked back, picking his teeth and thought about life. He wanted a drink. Now a normal, rational human might want a drink before dinner, but this boy was not normal nor rational. He was a bad man, remember? So he took himself over to the saloon. Kicked back with a bottle of only semi-rotgut, and surveyed the bar. Not many patrons, but a guy at the piano just going nuts. Now everyone in the bar, except the piano player has kind of drawn back and is warily eyeing our bad man. He likes this. Fear. Respect. He was a bad man. Anyway, he looks over at the piano player. Piano player is going nuts. Head down, fingers flying, banging out this old-timey barroom music. Not necessarily good, but very enthusiastic. Our bad man doesn’t like someone not paying attention to him and kind of slowly draws out his big black revolver, idly cocks and takes aim. Shoots out the piano player’s left cufflink. Pah-tink – cufflink goes flying. The piano player – doesn’t miss a beat. He’s just wrapped around that piano. The bad man is mildly miffed. He sits there for a minute, and then shoots out the right cufflink. Pah-tink — cufflink goes flying. The piano player — doesn’t miss a beat. Both cuffs flapping as he whacks on that piano.
Now our bad man is more than a little miffed. But decided that bloodshed could wait until he digested a bit more. So, he called over the bartender and asked what the bartender would do to get the piano player’s attention. Now the bartender was nervous and shaking. This was a bad man. So he kind of stammered out as best he could: “M-mm-mister, go out the door there. T-tt-turn left. G-gg-go d-dd-down to the general store. When y-yy-you get in l-ll-look kind of to the right. T-tt-there’s a b-bb-big barrel of lard. Roll up your b-bb-black sleeve, take the t-top off that barrel. T-t-take that fancy black g-gun and slosh it around in the l-lard real good.”
The bad man scratched his head and said as to how he didn’t see what that would do to get that damn stupid piano player’s attention, so why did the bartender say that? Bartender looked at him a minute and worked up his courage and eventually got out: “Well, mister bad man. You asked what I’d do. I told you that because I know where Marshall Earp is going to put that fancy pistol when he finishes playing that song!”