Steak

Leon/Kitchen

Leon attempts to cook steak.




Food.

No, more importantly, steak.

Holy shit I really wanted some steak.  Steak, with buttery mashed potatoes, and broccoli.  Oh my god.  That sounded amazing right about now.

I absently flicked my lighter in my jacket pocket as I sat at the red light, anxious to get home and eat something.  Today was a big day for me.  I'd spent hours on the internet, pouring over videos and how-to guides.  I was tired of takeout.  Today, I, Leon S Kennedy, was going to cook something.  

I was as nervous as I was excited.  Sure, I could boil water, make box macaroni and cheese,  even salad.  But in all my life, all my attempts at cooking chicken, pork, and most importantly, steak, had ended poorly.  Generally, anything that needs to be cooked in a pan is something I avoid.  I can't even make pancakes.

But today… today I was going to change that.

…

I unlocked the door to my apartment and flicked on the lights as I walked into the kitchen, setting my small bag of groceries on the counter.  I dug around in my cabinets for a pan and set it on the stove, flicking on the gas and setting it to medium.  I dropped a small pat of butter in the pan and turned to unpack my groceries.  Black pepper, broccoli, instant mashed potatoes, salt, extra butter.  Butter makes everything better.

In no time, my kitchen was running at full steam.  I had the broccoli going in the steamer, the instant potatoes were already done, and my tenderloin was sizzling in the pan.  I felt like I was on Food Network, cooking with some esteemed chef.  

Well, I did, until the smoke detector started screeching.  Shit.  The pan I was cooking my steak in was smoking profusely.  I reasoned I'd used too much butter and that it was burning or something, but I really had no idea.  The sound of the smoke detector set me into a panic and as I turned around, I realized my kitchen and living room were veiled by a light haze.  Oh my god.  What have I done?

I quickly turned down the heat on every burner on the stove, hurried into the living room, and promptly began waving my dish towel under the smoke detector in effort to make the damn thing stop screeching.

After two terrifying minutes, it did.  I returned, shaken and discouraged, to the kitchen.  

Well, so much for having delicious steak.  I figured I would at least finish cooking it.  It wasn't as though I had anything else in the house to eat.  My pro chef fantasies dashed, I resumed cooking my steak, mothering it gently until it was just the right color in the middle.  I figured my broccoli and potatoes would still be good.  I loaded up my plate with my sides and served myself half the steak, as it was more than large enough for two meals.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I plopped down on the couch and flipped on the TV, hoping with a sigh that whatever boring shows were on tonight would help distract me from what I anticipated to be the shittiest steak I'd ever eaten.  I cut myself a piece and raised it tentatively to my mouth.  Well, here goes nothing…

I squeezed my eyes shut and stuck my fork in my mouth, letting it hit my tongue before I dared chew it.  

It tasted… good.  I chewed it slowly.  Even better.  Holy shit.  I somehow managed to successfully cook a steak!  Holy.  Shit!

My head hit the back of the couch as I savored that first bite.  God damn.  It wasn't the best steak I'd ever eaten, but goddamn was it not the worst.  

The rest of it was gone in minutes.  I forced myself to leave the rest of it for tomorrow, cleaned my kitchen and went to bed a happy man.

The end.