Amanda Hesser's Rib Steaks with Parsley and Crouton Salad

I don't mean to be hopelessly materialistic, but I bought a platter (well, actually three - a smaller one and two larger ones, for a grand total of eight dollars) at a thrift store the other day and it filled me with deep-seated satisfaction and joy. I'm kind of into all that stuff, you see. Plates please me, as do tablecloths from flea markets and silver salt shakers from my mother and etched glasses in green and yellow crystal that we bought as seconds a few years ago in Berlin. For years, I've been making do with a few Sarreguemines plates I bought on Ebay years ago (they reminded me of my puces forays in Paris), with glasses that roommates contributed to the apartment, with a hodge-podge assortment of forks and knives, with paper towels instead of linen ones. But now that we've found our place in Queens, I've been thrilled to leave those things behind.

It was fine, at first. After all, at twenty-three, I was far too busy staying up until 6 am with my girlfriends in bars and eating hors d'oeuvres for dinner at book parties in the East Village and Tribeca to care about the state of my kitchen. I'd visit my mother and she'd show me the wonderful things she'd started saving for me, "for when you have casa tua", and I'd admire them, an antique ceramic bread box, linens she'd salvaged and starched, her grandmother's silverware, champagne coupes bought piece by piece at the flea market. But casa mia was a faraway concept, one I didn't particularly long for yet. I liked having roommates, a communal home, the freedom to break a glass or eat with a plastic fork. Linen towels would have been awfully annoying to launder compared with the disposability of a paper napkin. So I'd stow the treasures away in her closet and go back to New York to resume my life.

The years progressed, though, and as is wont to happen, I grew up a little and started hungering for a home of my own. One in which I could assume that the dishes would always be actually clean after being washed. One in which I didn't have to worry about an old plate being stuck carelessly in the microwave. One that made me want to wash linen towels and vacuum more than once a month and not to have to serve dinner directly from the pots on the stove. For years, I shied away from thrift stores in New York precisely because I didn't want to be tempted to buy anything I wouldn't be able to use. My life felt temporary. Why would I need to bring anything more into that life but the essentials?

Hence my joy the other day about finding those platters. It was an unexpected gift. Oh, I know I sound so bourgeois. But it's the truth - the collection of all those little things that I've been storing away for years and the release to be able to make this apartment my home, our home, well, nothing could please me more.

So I brought the platters back to Queens, the weight of the bag digging a red stripe into my shoulders, and washed the price stickers off in hot, soapy water. Then I made dinner - a punchy salad of watercress and parsley, dressed with horseradish and capers and two kinds of mustard, and topped with slices of broiled steaks. Arranged on that clean, white expanse, the salad really shone - glossy, green leaves, crisply browned croutons, juicy, pink meat with those perfectly crusty pockets and corners, while the capers provided briny little pops of flavor. The sensation of croutons crunching and rare meat yielding and fresh greens folding was totally sublime. (Though when I make this again, because I will, I'll use skirt or hanger steak instead. The rib steaks were a little fatty, and I prefer a chewier cut with salad.)

I know that stuff doesn't define us, that if all of those "precious" things were gone tomorrow, it wouldn't really matter. Love, family, health - that's what counts. And on those points, well, all I can ask is how I ever got so lucky. So, of course a good thrift, then, is just icing on the cake, a midday treat, an excuse to make a little victory jig in public, if anything. But it can also make you stop and think about life, its small yet profound changes, the immeasurable gratitude you have towards the universe, and the funny fact that sometimes all you need to do is serve dinner on a simple, white, oval plate and contentedness is yours.

Rib Steaks with Parsley and Crouton Salad
Serves 4

4 rib steaks, about 1 inch thick (this was far too much meat for us - I'd suggest 3 rib steaks instead)
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 1/2 tablespoons salt-cured capers, rinsed thoroughly
1 tablespoon horseradish, more to taste
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/2 tablespoon coarse-grain mustard
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 cups day-old bread cut into 1-inch cubes, lightly toasted
Leaves from 1 large bunch of parsley
Tops from 1 bunch of watercress

1. Line a broiler pan with aluminum foil and heat broiler. Season steaks with salt and pepper. Put steaks on broiler pan and broil for 5 minutes on each side, for rare.

2. Meanwhile, in a salad bowl, whisk together capers, horseradish, lemon juice, mustards and olive oil. Season with salt and pepper. Add toasted bread cubes, parsley and watercress and toast until lightly wilted.

3. When steaks are done, let them rest for 5 minutes on a cutting board. Pour a tablespoon of the steak juices over the greens and toss. Arrange the dressed greens on a platter. Slice and arrange the steak on the salad and pour remaining juices over the steak. Serve.

Comments

[Kalyn]

I had to smile because I get a true thrill from finding wonderful kitchen things in a thrift store.

[Bea at La Tartine Gourmande]

oh now, you will have to excuse me but I stopped at the word Sarreguemines. I had never heard about Sarreguemines plates before. I was born in Sarreguemines in the North-east of France. The same one?

[anne]

I totally hear your point - but I think some of those "things" are also important as keepsakes. Those treasures your mother tucked away for you when the time was right are a shared history of your family. While they are just tokens and items they are special because they are from your mother and apart of your history. So enjoy them!

[RA]

I love how simple kitchen wares can make such a difference. When I moved into my first apartment after college, my mom bequeathed me two white, oval platters (one medium, one large) for my cupboards, but I had never seen them before. She said offhandedly, "Oh, I just picked them up one time in case you or your sister ever needed them."

How about that? I use them all the time, now.

[Melissa]

Oh, I know exactly how you feel. A few years ago I could have eaten with toothpicks every night and not minded. And now... well, my bulging cupboards, closets and under-the-bed space all attest to the fact that nesting has started in earnest. Manuel puts up with most of it because he thinks there's no way I'm taking it with us when we move countries. Little does he know!

[Sarah]

I love your description of the sensations while eating this: the croutons + rare steak. sign me up!

[Jessika]

To use a cliche, although there are plenty of well-defined reasons for things becoming cliches, memories do reside in things. It is over-crowding that gets to you. My grandmother had 3 separate dinnerware china setups (full with 24 dishes etc), coffee china setups (16 cups)., and it didn't seem to arouse much attention in anyone when they were sold and/or handed out last year when they had to move.
And whereas having a whole set up of equal china might not bring out memories, a pile of amalgamated and carefully selected plates might very well be another step to coming home.

Happy for you that you are happy with your move and living in a place that suits you! Tranquility should not be underestimated. Nor should plates :).

[lindy]

What a lovely post. I think everyone needs at least a few special good, beautiful and satisfying things, to give everyday life a bit of reassuring ceremony, and to make special occasions seem all the more special.
And, as you point out, it is how much nice stuff you feel you can actually take care of which determines how much you want to have around you. Well, of course, money limits it too, but in the absence of utter crushing poverty, most of us can find beautiful bargains enough to satisfy us.
As a middle aged person with quite a few personal treasures (many of which would not seem like treasures to anyone else) I am having some first stirrings of a paring down impulse. We'll see what happens with that.

[Lydia]

I love this post. I used to think that buying things for my kitchen was frivolous, but the truth is that all of the plates and, in my case, bowls (I have far too many), and glasses, have all been used to share meals with friends and family. And anything that makes the experience more joyous is worth having.

[Andrea]

My mom gave me this beautiful platter when I was straight out of college and I was like, "What ever am I going to do with this?" I didn't use it for years but now I'm so glad I have it. Score one for "Moms always being right."

[radish]

Yay for lovely new plates - I too get glowy when I find a wonderful bargain! I had similar flowery plates before moving in with KS - and decided to leave them be. Well, now we're contemplating another move (oh what a long story that is) and will have to get new sets of dishes as the ones we are currently using are our roommate's. The steak salad sounds fresh and filling - yum!

[Victoria]

It is, of course, true that “stuff” doesn’t matter, and it surely doesn’t define us. And maybe the “stuff’ we don’t want defines us more than the stuff we do. (For my 60th birthday I got a macBook and my best friend for her 60th got diamond earrings. And we were both really happy.) Last year when my absolutely darling father – my second parent – died, and I had to close up his house, I felt I was up to my you-know-what in “stuff.” But I have to admit when it comes to things I use around the house, I am happy to have the blue and white bowl with the parrot in it that graced my grandmother’s sideboard in England when I was a little girl. And I’m happy to have the tea service my mother bought in Wales on her honeymoon. And I’m happy to have old linen napkins that are delicate and soft from years of use. But here is my most special and delicious treat. There is a silver pattern I have always loved, Old Colonial by Towle. I haven’t longed for it or coveted it; it’s not the pattern I picked when I was doing that thing. It’s just something I’ve kind of noticed and loved over the years. The bowl of the spoon has ridges on it. It’s very different and very pretty. When I was cleaning out the kitchen drawer in my parent’s house, buried in the bottom of a drawer was a little terribly tarnished teaspoon in that pattern! Why was it there? How did it get there? I’ll never know. But now it sits in a little white dish on my kitchen counter, and every morning I use it when I make my first cup of tea of the day, and it really makes me smile. So, hard as it is to believe for all you young women setting up housekeeping, those little treasures you find and use now will become your children’s heirlooms someday, filled with memories, which I wish for you will be happy ones.

[Mary]

Such a sweet post, thanks for these thoughts. I've been amassing furniture and dishware from the thrift shops this summer and having a great time. But what to do about a husband who buys 100 linen napkins on ebay, goes through them all and then really doesn't like ironing?

I love a steak salad. Try it with sirloin.

[Tea]

Lovely, my dear, just lovely.

It's never about the "stuff," I think. It's about what it signifies and symbolizes. It's about creating a home--and I'm so pleased for you that you've found yours.

[sherry]

I made this for a dinner party last night and it was a HUGE success! Perfect summer (even if it is 50-something degrees) entree. I used rib steaks, and they worked perfectly. As one accompaniment, I also made your zucchini cooked with mint and lemon. Heavenly! With a tomoto/buffalo mozarella, thanks to you, I served a near perfect meal! I've already gotten calls for the recipes.

[sherry]

oops, for what it's worth, I added a lot more of the watercress and parsley, so there were tons of greens!

[Luisa]

Kalyn - I'm so glad you agree. It's such a good feeling!

Bea - I'm not sure... I updated the link to show you what comes up at www.ebay.fr under Sarreguemines. I also have some plates labeled Digoin Sarreguemines... Look familiar at all?

Anne - you're absolutely right. And a lot of the pleasure I get from fixing up the apartment with little things like this is because it's something my mother enjoys too and though she's far away I can sort of commune with her when I'm in a thrift store, stumbling across something nice. Not the same as being WITH her, but still.

RA - Moms really do know best! And I'm sure you'll be holding on to those platters for a long time. Who knows who they'll end up with one day? :)

Melissa - oh yes, the menfolk. They really have no idea, do they? That's a whole other kettle of fish. Keep stowing them away! You can always ship them via freight ;)

Sarah - mmm, it really was so delicious. Sometimes I think I love textures almost as much as flavors!

Jessika - wow, that's a lot of plates. But how cool that some were able to stay in the family! Getting a new life. As for tranquility, it RULES.

Lindy - eek! A paring-down impulse! (though, to be honest, I've had those, too.) Will your daughter help you out and lighten your load?

Lydia - I think I'm going to print out your comment and paste it to my fridge or something. It's exactly right!

Andrea - that's so sweet. Hooray for moms and platters.

Radish - oh no, a new move?! Do tell. I hope it's a good thing and not too nightmarish.

Victoria - what a beautiful image of you making tea with your beloved little spoon every morning. I love it! I have a little silver teacup given to me by a very dear person who died a few years ago - I rarely use it but it sits on my kitchen counter and when I see it, every day, it makes me think of him. So, you know, it's one of my most precious possessions, not so much for the object, but for what it calls forth in me.

Mary - ha! That made me laugh. I love that you have a husband who is even interested in that kind of stuff! I have no advice for you on the ironing thing. Withhold dinner? Threaten to block Ebay with an internal firewall? :)

Tea - thank you, thank you and thank you!

Sherry - I'm so glad you enjoyed both dishes. My father also really adored the zucchini. And it's good that you added more greens, there really couldn't be too many.

[Hillary]

I feel like Homer Simpson drooling at a plate of doughnuts - this looks absolutely amazing! Mmmm...