Tender is the Loin I - Recap

Alton’s aboard a private plane discussing caviar, chocolates and lobster as he sips from a champagne flute. Delicious as they are, none of these are filet, as in filet mignon. Filet mignon comes from the very best part of the cow, the tenderloin. Ounce for ounce this... someone knocks on the door and a voice calls out, asking who’s in the plane. It seems Alton isn’t flying at all. And the plane’s pilot wants to know what’s going on. Alton quickens his explanation: tenderloin cuts are as good and as expensive as food gets. The good news is that tenderloin can be an affordable luxury.

The pilot climbs in and demands an explanation. Alton dissembles with a story that he’s made a mistake - his plane has leather, not pleather and... The pilot isn’t buying what Alton’s trying to sell and leaves to summon security. Looks like Alton won’t be flying high this time but that’s okay – he’s got tenderloin and that’s Good Eats.

Alton brings out a model cow to illustrate. Between the rib primal and the sirloin primal and starting at the thirteenth rib lies the short loin primal. As long time viewers know, the tenderest cuts are those far from hoof and horn and the short loin is about as far as one can get. Over the ribs are large loin muscles that are roasted or crosscut into New York strip steaks. Just inside the ribs lie two tenderloin muscles (one on each side) shaped like baseball bats. These muscles do very little work so they’re tender and have little connective tissue. Porterhouse steaks come from the thick end while the thinner end yields T-bone steaks. Alton has a plan to use the entire tenderloin.

To get a full tenderloin Alton goes to the warehouse club where he finds whole vacuum packed tenderloins. These “pismos” have been “peeled” of extra fat and are sold with the “side meat on” (PSMO). Wrapped in plastic, they wet age (enzymes tenderize the meat over time). Alton prefers dry aging but wet aging is better than no aging. The wonder of these whole tenderloins is shelf life. Properly refrigerated they’ll last a month or more. Alton has successfully stored them for as long as eighteen weeks. They require little touch labor and may be as much as a third cheaper per pound than butchered tenderloin. Real savings do depend on the cook using all the meat.

Back in the kitchen Alton unwraps his pismo. The red liquid that drains away is not blood but a mixture of protein and water. Because it can be slippery, Alton rinses the meat just a little and lets it drain. To cut the tenderloin, Alton prepares a large cutting board (he has one dedicated to raw meat) by placing it on some shelf liner material of the sort that prevents sliding. Stability is important. He retrieves a long carving knife and a boning knife from his collection of customized cutlery. Finally, he prepares a bin for the scraps and another for the cuts.

One side of the tenderloin has indentations left by the vertebrae. Alton turns the meat over and starts on the other side with the large end away. He cleans the meat of fat by digging under the membrane that holds the fat to the muscle and peeling it away.

Next the side (or chain) muscles come off. The chain is a delicacy rarely found on menus; often cooks savor it themselves. Alton sets his aside for now and returns to the tenderloin.

Flipping the piece over, Alton shaves the fat from the vertebral side. A good piece will show marbling (fat inclusions) here. And that brings him to the silverskin. Silverskin is a form of connective tissue rich in elastin. Unlike collagen, which cooks to gelatin and adds a nice mouth feel, elastin congeals to nasty knots. The silverskin must go. Alton shows how to angle a knife to remove this nasty stuff. Proper tension and good knife technique help and these come with practice. The more silverskin you can remove the better your cuts will taste. When he’s removed the last of the silverskin, he’s done.

The next task is deciding how to cut the pismo. One might roast it whole, or make smaller roasts or cut it thin for minute steaks. There are many choices. Alton selects a filet mignon cut. First the smaller muscle must come off; that will make a quality small roast later. Alton removes it to get at the gristly connective tissue between it and the larger loin muscle. Once he’s got the loin muscle by itself, it’s time to portion. And that’s where a twelve inch carving knife is important; Alton’s has a rounded end and little divots to decrease the friction so the knife slides smoothly through what it cuts. Knife makers refer to such knifes as granton blades.

Even thickness is the key to even cooking, so Alton pulls out a ruler to make sure he gets it right. He demonstrates proper technique for crosscutting and butterflying the steaks. Then he stashes them in the bottom of the fridge, tightly wrapped in plastic.

Alton’s got an enormous book titled “Major Culinary Contributions of the French” From among its thousands of pages, he pulls the concept of “steak au poivre, “a recipe that combines sautéing and sauce skills to produce a treat. It starts with the “poivre” or pepper – whole peppercorns just barely cracked. Alton uses a mallet and a pie pan on his; most pepper grinders will grind the berries too finely. He presses streaks first into salt (ideally, Kosher salt) and then into the cracked pepper, using enough pressure to get good adhesion without mashing the meat.

The he puts ten inch skillet goes over medium-high heat. Alton purposely avoids a non-stick skillet because he’ll build a sauce from the bits left after the cooked meat is removed. He chooses an 18/10 stainless – 18% chromium, 10% nickel and the rest iron. A little butter and a little olive oil go into the pan; when just the first wisps of smoke go up it’s time to add the meat. The meat should be at room temperature for even cooking; if it has been refrigerated, leave it on the counter for a half hour before cooking. Alton cooks his steaks four minutes per side. This gives him a medium rare finish. Cooking times vary with the type of pan, range, and other factors, so each cook must experiment.

When the meat is done Alton puts it in a pan to rest, covered with foil, then turns his attention to the pan. First he pours out the fat. What’s left – the dark and crunchy bits – is the basis for a sauce. To get at those bits, Alton deglazes the pan with brandy – VS will do for this purpose. Besides the pan, Alton gathers a long body lighter of the sort used for outdoor grilling and a fire extinguisher just in case. He reheats the pan, turns off the burner and adds the brandy. When the alcohol aerosolizes he ignites it with the lighter; the alcohol fumes burn off. A little work with a wooden spoon or metal whisk ensures all the bits dissolve, yielding a dark brown and rather harsh elixir. He stirs heavy cream into this and brings it to a boil over medium high heat. Minutes later it has reduced to a first rate pepper sauce. Alton adds a little cognac and tosses his steaks in the sauce.

Alton suggests viewers take home a tenderloin and try steak au poivre, reminding them that it isn’t always necessary to be rich in order to eat rich. As the scene fades, a card appears – “The End?”

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