A Meditation On Steak

I believe that any time a steak is cooked more than medium rare, that is the single biggest mistake in all of history. Every time it happens, it's worse than the last time - haven't we learned anything? Don't people realize how bad overcooked steak tastes?

I know it's personal preference, but I believe steaks are at their absolute best when cooked medium rare; it's the perfect temperature for a nice piece of meat. The steaks should start out at room temperature. I can always tell when somebody's cooking a steak right out of the fridge. It never really cooks as evenly, the center taking just a little longer to get to that sweet spot, the exterior drying out while the middle takes forever to come down from the cold. I'll still always say, "Wow, great steak", but I'm just being polite.

Ideally, whoever is cooking is going to want to heat up their grill or frying pan or whatever, get it really, really hot, almost smoking, so that the outside of the steak will have that nice char, that crisp brown. And then, when you cut into it, man, it's great. Red to the center with a warm interior.

So I always order my steak medium rare. Unless, of course, I'm sitting at a table in a steakhouse with a large group of people. In that case, it's not so simple. I'm a gentleman, so I never just go ahead and order first. I'll hold off for somebody else to start, and then I'll wait until it's my turn to order. Chances are, somebody else is going to order their steak medium rare. I'm telling you, it's the best way to have a steak. But then the waiter will come around to me, "And for you, sir? How would you like your steak prepared?" I can't say medium rare now - I'll look like I have no idea what I'm doing. I'll look like I've never ordered a steak before, like I'm just copying everybody else.

This is why it's great to order first at a steak place. Everyone else is definitely going to get their steak medium rare, so when you order first, you look like you're in charge, like everyone else is following your lead. The second person will also say medium rare. "Very good, sir." And maybe he really did want his steak medium rare. It all depends on how fast he said it. If there was even a second's hesitation, it would be perfectly obvious that he was probably going to go for medium, but he didn't feel like being outdone by the first person. "I'll take mine medium … rare. Medium rare." A classic rookie I've-never-eaten-in-a-steakhouse-with-a-large-group-of-people mistake.

And then it goes down the line, medium rare, medium rare, medium rare. But now everybody ordering, the fifth, sixth, seventh, even if they wanted medium or medium well, it's just not happening. Nobody's going to stick their neck out like that. By the third or fourth person, the waiter is only even asking because he has to, because it's part of his job description. Restaurant managers always get really pissed when waiters try to save some time and cast out a blanket, "Medium rares all around?" question to the table.

Every once in a while, the waiter will happen to start with a person who clearly doesn't know how to eat steak and they'll say medium or medium well. And the next person will order theirs, extra loud, "MEDIUM RARE," as if to say, "Please don't confuse me with my idiot friend to my left. I'd like mine medium rare. Please." And it'll go down the line, medium rare, medium rare, and after two or three people, that first guy will realize his mistake, and he'll get really embarrassed, and he'll just shout out to the waiter (who's already past him), and he'll say, "Excuse me, you know what? I'm going to go for that medium rare also. Thanks." And the waiter will say, "Very good, sir," and he'll pretend to cross out something on his pad and write in something else, but it will all be an act, because he's not writing anything at all. It's always medium rare. The first person always changes to medium rare after everyone else orders medium rare. It's a science.

But then it gets to me, and maybe I'm the eighth or ninth person ordering. And I'm no follower, I'm no nameless face in a crowd. So I'll say, "Rare, please." And everyone drops their fork and stares. I learned this trick at my friend's wedding in Iowa last summer. The rehearsal dinner was at this steak place, and the specialty was rib eye. Delish. Of course I was going to order medium-rare, but the first person ordered rare. I was like, "What? Rare? Crazy!" But then the second person ordered. Rare. Third, fourth, fifth. Rare, rare, rare. There was definitely a pattern here, and it became clear to me how I'd have to order my steak.

It was good. I liked it. It was a little chewier than I was used to, and you have to cut the pieces really thin to make them somewhat manageable in your mouth. But it's nice. I still like medium rare better, but I'll never tell that to anybody. I'll only order that if it's just me and somebody else, or if I'm cooking the steak myself. From now on, when I'm at a steak restaurant with a lot of people, rare it is. I'm a one-of-a-kind kind of a guy. I just love it, sitting there. Medium rare. Medium rare. Medium rare. Medium rare. Then, bam! Rare. I always stand out from the pack.

I really hope that someday, I'm out to dinner with a bunch of guys, and for some reason it's my turn to order first. And I'm definitely going to order rare. And I know that the second person is going to have to order rare also. And it'll be like dominoes, everyone falling in line, everyone getting a rare steak. I'm pretty sure that's what happened in Iowa. I think.

Just do me a favor and never order a steak well done. I have it on good authority that whenever a chef at a steak restaurant gets an order for a well done steak, he walks over to a nearby trashcan where, under all of the trash, he keeps a stockpile of some of last week's worst cuts of meat. After he pulls out the nastiest one, he spits on it a few times, and then he throws it on the grill until all that's left is a charred blackened piece of coal. Then he puts on some parsley and sends it out to be served. It's true, I swear.

-Rob_G, Qiyu Liu ed.

P.S. I hate it when people order "medium to medium well." That's not a temperature. Pick medium or medium well. There are five temperatures, that's it. You can't just go around making up your own weird non-existent styles of preparing steak.

Why Not Copy Commercials?

Steve Jobs once said of Apple, "We have always been shameless about stealing great ideas." Samsung appears to have taken that to heart, developing a reputation for copying Apple's design aesthetic for everything from smartphones to tablets to laptops.

But why stop there? If you're copying the products you're trying to advertise, why not copy the advertisements themselves? Here is Samsung's newly released commercial for their smartwatch, the Gear:

And here is Apple's 2007 commercial for the original iPhone:

Despite the commercials' similarities, the Gear is unlikely to copy the iPhone's success. And while imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, I somehow don't think the folks in Cupertino are amused.

The Little-Known Connection Between Richard Nixon and Obamacare

Before Obama, the last U.S. president to propose a universal health care system was Richard Nixon. His older brother Harold had contracted tuberculosis as a teenager, and Harold's medical costs devastated the family. To help out, Richard worked as a janitor while in high school and still managed to graduate third in his class, earning a tuition scholarship to Harvard. Unfortunately, the scholarship didn't cover room and board, so Nixon attended Whittier College in his hometown in order to help his family care for his ailing brother; Harold died three years later.

Yet, for all his shortcomings as president, Nixon understood the miseries of being poor, of being unable to afford health care. He became an advocate for health care reform, and in 1971, he pushed for an insurance mandate, the same mandate over which Congressional Republicans shut down the federal government today. Think about that for a moment: Richard Milhous Nixon, a man whose name has literally become a synonym for fecal matter, was more compassionate and in tune with the needs of the American people than the modern Republican party.

The Perfect Cocktail

In the autumn of 2012, I conducted a series of cocktail competitions - an Iron Bartender, if you will. These weekly battles took place at Holeman & Finch, a decorated gastropub in Atlanta. Once a week, I would arrive at the bar, announce the liquor of the evening, and the two bartenders would each make a cocktail based on the "secret ingredient". Sometimes I offered latitude, simply naming whiskey or gin; other times, I would request a specific liquor like rye. During one of the Battle Whiskeys, Tyson Bittrich made for me a bourbon-based cocktail of his own creation, the Newport '65. Incorporating celery bitters, it was unlike any drink I ever had, and it was amazing.

Fast forward to February 2013 and Iron Bartender had been retired. I couldn't make it out to Holeman on a regular basis, so I attempted at one point to order the Newport '65 at my regular bar. Unfortunately, I didn't remember the exact recipe and my regular bar didn't carry celery bitters (to be fair, almost none do). On my third attempt, I arrived at the recipe below. It was boozy yet crisp, spicy with flavors that evolved during consumption. In other words, it was the perfect cocktail.

It's called the December '69, but this etymology has nothing to do with a mutual admiration society. The Newport Folk Festival in 1965 was Bob Dylan's first live set with an electric guitar, and my drink being derived from Tyson's Newport '65, I named it for Dylan's "derivative" - his son Jakob - born December 9, 1969.

December '69 cocktail

1 oz Michter's rye

1 oz Maison Surrenne Galtaud cognac

3/4 oz Carpano Antica

1/4 oz Fernet Branca

2 dashes celery bitters

Stir, served up w/orange peel

Update: On April 17, 2013, the proportions of vermouth and fernet were slightly altered (and improved) on the suggestion of Omar Ferrer of Empire State South.

Caught Between Barack and a Hard Place

I was wrong.

I was wrong about President Obama and Mr. Romney being handcuffed by the town hall format of last night's debate, going so far as to explicitly say it "means Romney's assertions will go unchallenged."

I was wrong about my evening being ruined by the preemption of New Girl. The second presidential debate of the 2012 general election, as it turns out, was entertaining and satisfying and arguably the most exciting political discourse I've witnessed in my lifetime.

I was wrong to think there wouldn't be a moment like in the video below, a moment that should not be overlooked. A moment where Mitt Romney lies about a dog-whistle issue and gets caught, where he exploits the death of four American diplomats, killed while serving our country, for political gain. Never mind that if this happened when a Republican was in the White House, Fox News wouldn't bat an eye at letting the investigation run its course; never mind that the State Department didn't want to announce to the world that there was a major CIA operation going on and they had to make sure nobody released any classified information; and never mind that Romney didn't call out Obama for merely being technically correct because Mitt wanted so badly to win a political point.

What I was not wrong about, however, is that last night's debate "won't change people's minds like the first one did." I feel confident in saying that once the post-debate polls come in over the weekend, Obama will see a small, meaningless bump, and I will still be pissed.

The Passion of The Candidate

On the eve of the second presidential debate of the 2012 general election, I find myself wondering a few things.

I wonder, why did Obama, in front of his largest audience all season, act like a reluctant boyfriend dragged to a Twilight movie? No, Mr. President, you did not simply have "a bad night." You and your team canonized the bullshit notion that Romney should be handled with kid gloves, as if he wasn't going to come out swinging like an Adderall-fueled collegian studying for the LSATs. You are not, nor have you ever been even a Joe Biden-level debater, and Mitt Romney is no Sarah Palin. And the gall, the absolute arrogance to ask me for money after that shit show you called a debate performance? It all but makes me hope you lose. That's how pissed I still am.

I wonder, what will the inevitable Willard Romney administration be like? Will President Romney roll back abortion rights? Will he actually cut income tax rates across the board by 20%, even when "helping small business owners" has the (un)intended effect of helping the very wealthiest Americans? Will his presidency prove a boon for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, even though evangelical Christians, who believe the Bible is the word of God, really shouldn't vote for someone who thinks Jesus rose from the dead, then made a B line for America?

But mostly, I wonder how President Obama will manage to disappoint me in the remaining three months of his presidency, tonight included. With New Girl preempted, my evening is already ruined. But the second debate will be town hall format which means Romney's assertions will go unchallenged. The final debate is on foreign policy, so Obama won't have a chance to address "the 47%" or Romney's record at Bain Capital or his campaign's anti-education, anti-healthcare policies or any other thing that Americans actually care about, because foreign policy sure as hell isn't one of them.

Romney has surpassed Obama in a number of polls, and the remaining debates won't change people's minds like the first one did. Record donations will be made in these closing weeks, money that could be better by those who need it most. The only question left to wonder, I suppose, is whether to move to Florida or Texas before I blow my life savings on the lottery.

Are Public Schools Worth It?

NPR's Planet Money blog created the following graphic that illustrates the combined federal, state, and local government per student cost per year of public school:

Here's a map I created that uses SAT scores. 

Some states require students to take the ACT or the SAT so I recreated the map using ACT scores.

Perhaps a compromise is in order. Here's the average of each state's ACT and SAT ranking.

I could say that spending more on students means better educated students that do better on college entrance exams and get into better universities, but then I'd be like Fox News and knowingly lie to make a political point.

Friday Feature

This week's Friday Feature is something white people like, and the theme is shorts on social interaction.

Youtube's trends managers discusses his thoughts on why videos go viral.



An author with a name eerily similar to a famous Playmate tells you what you don't know about marriage.



And the founder of Rhapsody reminds us of the absurdity of the MPAA's copyright claims.

Financial Media Coverage 2

A month ago, I wrote an entry about the failure of my favorite CNBC show to recognize that Apple probably wasn't in for a (short-term) pullback. A month is a reasonable time frame to follow up on people's buy/sell calls, so let's see how things turned out:

I'm sorry, you were saying?

Buyer's Remorse

Apple unveiled its newest iPad yesterday, yet in under 24 hours, I've already developed buyer's remorse. I don't have the iPad yet - I pre-ordered for delivery next Friday - but I'm already leaning more toward returning the iPad than keeping it. This is just the latest edition of purchasing indecision for me: in college, it took me 2 1/2 years and 13 jackets before I settled on one.

This iPad situation is different, however, because the machine has everything I wanted: a crazy high resolution display that looks as good as print, 4G LTE data connectivity, and a 10 hour battery life. The entry level version replaces the old model at the same $499 price point. Why then am I agonizing over buying it?

For the past 8 years, my computer usage profile has simply been a full-featured 15" laptop. In 2009, I added an iPhone, and in 2011, I received a decent laptop/desktop setup at work, but in the end, whether I'm in bed or on the couch or at the airport, I'm using my 15" laptop. My desire to purchase an iPad was motivated, in part, by being unable to replace my 4 1/2-year-old laptop while Intel continually delays the release of Ivy Bridge, their new processor and platform, but also because I thought it would be nice to be able to make digital annotations on the academic papers I read. Unlike making annotations on printed papers, I wouldn't have to keep track of the physical copies, and the digital annotations would even be searchable. The rest of the iPad's capabilities are nice if somewhat redundant in my usage profile, so when the new iPad was announced, I immediately placed my pre-order.

Later in the day, someone threw out the suggestion that with an iPad, I could replace my laptop with a cheaper, more powerful desktop. I haven't owned one in many years, but my work setup was growing on me, so I started to seriously consider the notion. Then this morning, everything fell apart.

I was sitting on my couch with CNBC on the TV, watching The Daily Show on Hulu, when I remembered that Hulu doesn't allow mobile devices to access its content without first subscribing to Hulu Plus. I could avoid Hulu by just downloading the shows, but I'd still have to transfer them from the downloading computer to my iPad, a nontrivial inconvenience. Furthermore, I was simultaneously chatting with friends and reading news articles, a level of multitasking that cannot be done on any device short of a laptop. And so I came to the harsh realization that iPad + desktop was a non-starter.

What about iPad + laptop? Surely that's a reasonable setup, and indeed, that was my intent all along, to buy an iPad upon release and replace my laptop upon Ivy Bridge's release. But then I started thinking to myself, is $500 really a good use of money for a half-internet device to read papers on? Aggravating my reluctance was an alluring pair of Harry's of London brown wingtips on Gilt for $199, down from $575 MSRP. I didn't end up buying the wingtips, but they did make me reconsider what might be my optimal purchasing strategy.

It seems inevitable that I will return my iPad and just buy a replacement laptop, but saving the $500 may not be as meaningful as staving off possession bloat. I would like to link this to some part of the economics literature dealing with consumer choice, but honestly, I'm so neurotic when it comes to these things that I surely do not show up in any general model and only might be interesting as a case study. I can offer one useful thought: as the economy recovers and we have more discretionary income to spend, perhaps we should be asking ourselves not what to buy but whether to buy at all.