Breaded Steaks — The Thursday Constant, Made Solid

The kitchen is the room I live in. The other rooms are storage for memories — the dining room with its china cabinet, the living room with Paul's shipwreck books, the upstairs bedrooms where the kids grew up and which I have not entered (except to dust) in years. The kitchen is where the present happens. The kitchen is where the food is made and the dog is fed and the morning begins and the evening ends. The kitchen is the entire territory of my daily life now, and I find that this is enough. Karin and I talked Sunday. Stockholm in winter is dark. Duluth in winter is dark. We compared darknesses. We laughed. Karin said: "Linda, do you remember the time Pappa drove us to Two Harbors in a blizzard because Mamma wanted lutefisk?" I said yes. The story unspooled across the phone for twenty minutes. I had forgotten half of it. Karin remembered all of it. The memory was, briefly, complete between us. Mamma's hands shake more than they did last month. I do not point it out. I notice. I notice everything. The shake is small — barely visible when she is at rest, more visible when she lifts her coffee cup, most visible when she is trying to thread a needle. She still threads needles. She still bakes. She still calls me on Tuesdays at 10. The hands shake. The shaking does not stop the doing. The doing is what Mamma is. I cooked Wild rice soup this week. The Thursday constant. Damiano. The kitchen back-room I have known for over twenty years. The pot. The ladle. The faces. Gerald. The work continues. The work is the same work it has been since 2005. The continuity is, I think, the gift the Damiano Center gives me as much as the gift I give it. We hold each other up. Erik's house is empty now. The Fifth Street house has been sold (the new owners are a young couple from Hermantown, they are kind, they have promised to take care of it; they will paint the walls and tear up the carpet and the kitchen will become someone else's kitchen and I have made my peace with this, mostly). Erik's own house in Lakeside is being cleared out. I helped on Saturday. I packed Erik's coffee mugs. I held one for a long minute. I put it in the box. It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. I have been reading the Bible more lately. Not in any new way. The same passages I have known since confirmation class in 1977. The Sermon on the Mount. The 23rd Psalm. The book of Ruth. Whither thou goest, I will go. The repetition of the verses is its own form of prayer. The verses do not change. I change. The change is held by the unchanged words. I have learned, slowly, that there is a kind of competence that comes only with age. Not wisdom, exactly — wisdom is a word too grand for what I mean. Competence. The competence of having watched many things go wrong and many things go right and having developed an internal database of which is which. The competence is, perhaps, the only thing that improves with age in a body that is otherwise declining. I will take the trade. It is enough.

The soup is the Thursday constant at Damiano, but at home, when the week has been the kind of week this one was — Erik’s coffee mugs in a box, Mamma’s hands shaking over her cup, Karin’s voice carrying the half of the story I’d forgotten — I need something that requires my hands. Breaded steaks do that. The pounding, the dredging, the sizzle in the pan: it is all present tense, all kitchen, all now. It is the kind of cooking that asks nothing of memory and gives back warmth.

Breaded Steaks

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 4 cube steaks (about 5 oz each), or thin-cut round steak pounded to 1/4-inch thickness
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 2 large eggs, beaten
• 1 1/2 cups dry breadcrumbs (plain or Italian-seasoned)
• 1 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1 teaspoon onion powder
• 1 teaspoon paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/3 cup neutral oil (canola or vegetable), for frying
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

1. Prepare the dredging stations. Set out three shallow dishes: one with the flour seasoned with 1/4 teaspoon each salt and pepper, one with the beaten eggs, and one with the breadcrumbs mixed with garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, remaining salt, and remaining pepper.
2. Pound the steaks. If using round steak rather than pre-tenderized cube steak, place each piece between sheets of plastic wrap and pound with a meat mallet or heavy skillet to about 1/4-inch thickness.
3. Bread the steaks. Working one at a time, dredge each steak in the seasoned flour and shake off the excess. Dip fully in the beaten egg, letting any excess drip off. Press firmly into the breadcrumb mixture, coating both sides evenly. Set on a plate and repeat with remaining steaks.
4. Rest the breading. Let the breaded steaks sit uncovered for 5 minutes at room temperature. This helps the coating adhere during frying.
5. Heat the pan. In a large heavy skillet (cast iron works well), heat the oil and butter together over medium-high heat until the butter is melted and the oil shimmers. You want enough fat to come about halfway up the side of each steak.
6. Fry the steaks. Working in batches if needed — do not crowd the pan — cook the steaks for 3 to 4 minutes per side until the crust is deep golden brown and the meat is cooked through. Adjust heat as needed to prevent burning.
7. Drain and rest. Transfer cooked steaks to a wire rack set over a baking sheet, or a plate lined with paper towels. Season lightly with salt while still hot. Rest for 2 to 3 minutes before serving.
8. Serve. Plate the steaks and garnish with chopped parsley if desired. Serve with mashed potatoes, egg noodles, or roasted vegetables alongside pan gravy if you like.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 31g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 520mg