stRike ‘n steak tarTare

Two things I love most about Paris are strikes and steak tartares. They are both unique to France and so bloody and juicy in their own way.

I love strikes as they remind me constantly that I live in a socialist country and that we do not only value money like those Americans. When the entire public transportation system goes paralysed, I feel the blood of revolutionary French pumping in and out of Palais de Justice, across île de St. Louis and beyond boulevard exteriors, places I can not really say that I know. Today is national strike day, it gives me enough reason not to be at work on time, although my office is only 20 minutes walk and 10 minutes on my bike from home. It also gave me reason to refuse to go to an acquaintance’s birthday party which is in the 11th. Due to pure snobbism I oftentimes end up entertaining myself in one-digit arrondissements, strike day is perfect for a steak tartare - a plate of raw meat mixed with ten different sauces and a raw egg.

As a specialist, I can probably rate all the bistros in Paris according to their steak tartars, well maybe only the ones in one-digit arrondissements. A classic tartare mixes lean ground beef with Dijon mustard, ground cumin, pepper, salt, chopped spring onions, lemon juice and a raw egg. Of course there is also Olive oil. Some places also give you steak sauce, tobasco sauce, ketchup and etc. Although raw egg is optional, I believe it to be essential, it adds consistency to the meat and softens the taste. It probably isn’t the most healthy thing you can eat in the world, but this is place where you can drink and smoke whenever you want. “liberty, equality and fraternity” all expressed in this one single little plate. What I hate however is when they give you the self-service version : a pile of raw meat and a big basket of sauces. I usually use too much creativity and end up with a post modern version of steak tartare. What I really love, a little embarrassed to say, is a tarare “aller-retour” meaning slightly cooked on both sides. For most bistros, this is entirely unacceptable and the chef will just scream. Despite the screaming and chaos it might bring, I think it is always worth trying, you might just get lucky that day.

Tonight, I met up with a friend in a bistro next to Beaubourg, we both ordered steak tarare with salad and no French fries (a rather conscience low carbon hydrates diet ;)). And strike day is a lucky day for me, so I got mine “aller – retour” ed. As I was enjoying the last bit of my plate, I saw my friend eating bread with ketch up … “haha, what don’t you just get some French fries?”

It was a good day.