Easy London Broil

James and I took a cooking class together at a Korean kitchen studio in the ID — not a beginner class but an intermediate one: advanced Korean BBQ techniques, taught by a Korean pitmaster who runs a Korean BBQ restaurant in Renton. We learned: proper charcoal management, the art of thin-slicing meat for the grill, the science of smoke and fat and flame. James, who is competitive about cooking (the Taiwanese-American man's version of masculinity: I can grill better than you), was focused and intense, and I was focused and enjoying watching him be focused, which is a thing that happens when you're falling in love — the ordinary competence of the other person becomes fascinating, attractive, evidence that they can build things, tend things, make things happen.

The class ended with a feast: galbi, samgyeopsal, chadol baegi (thin-sliced brisket), all grilled over proper Korean charcoal, served with the full array of ssam vegetables and sauces. James and I ate together at the communal table, our elbows touching, our chopsticks occasionally competing for the same piece of meat (he won the chadol baegi race; I won the galbi), and the competition was play and the play was love and the love was expressed through food, as it always is, as it always will be.

At work, I started writing the ACM paper. The paper is technical — machine learning methodology, statistical analysis, model architecture — but the data tells a human story: people who eat Korean food start eating Thai food. People who eat Taiwanese food start eating Japanese food. Cuisines are nodes in a network, connected by shared flavors and techniques, and the network has the same topology as human connection: the closer two cultures are to each other, the more likely a person is to bridge between them. The paper is about algorithms. The paper is also about me and James: two nodes in a flavor network, connected by the bridge of being Asian-American, of living in the between, of eating each other's food and finding that the distance between Korean and Taiwanese is shorter than the distance between either and the American mainstream. The data confirms the love story. The love story confirms the data.

Saturday: Bellevue. James came. Second dinner with the Parks. This time Karen made her famous chicken — lemon, garlic, rosemary — and I made bulgogi. James talked to David about Seattle housing prices (the universal Seattle conversation) and to Karen about her book club (she's reading a mystery set in Japan, which led to a discussion about Asian literature that Karen approached with the genuine curiosity she brings to everything Korean-adjacent). After dinner, James and I did the dishes. He washed. I dried. Karen walked by and said, "You two look like a team." We do. We are. The team that washes dishes and makes kimchi scallion pancakes and is building something that neither of us planned but that both of us want.

That Korean BBQ class stayed with me — specifically the lesson that the real work of grilling is in the preparation: the marinade, the knife angle, the patience before the flame. London broil isn’t galbi, and my kitchen broiler isn’t a charcoal pit in Renton, but the philosophy carries over: marinate deeply, slice thin against the grain, and don’t rush the rest. James would approve of the technique. I made this the following week, alone, still thinking about the way he watched the coals.

Prep Time: 10 min (plus 2 hr marinade) | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 2 hr 25 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 to 2 lbs London broil (top round steak, about 1 inch thick)
1/4 cup soy sauce
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
2 green onions, thinly sliced, for garnish

Instructions

Make the marinade. Whisk together soy sauce, olive oil, Worcestershire sauce, minced garlic, red wine vinegar, black pepper, salt, and red pepper flakes (if using) in a small bowl until combined.
Marinate the beef. Place the London broil in a zip-lock bag or shallow dish. Pour the marinade over the meat, turning to coat on all sides. Seal and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or up to 8 hours for deeper flavor. Turn the bag once halfway through.
Bring to room temperature. Remove the steak from the refrigerator 30 minutes before cooking. Pat the surface lightly dry with paper towels — this helps the exterior sear rather than steam.
Broil the steak. Position your oven rack 4 to 5 inches from the broiler element and preheat the broiler on high. Place the steak on a broiler pan or wire rack set over a foil-lined baking sheet. Broil for 6 to 8 minutes per side for medium-rare (internal temperature of 130–135°F), or 8 to 10 minutes per side for medium (145°F). Watch closely — broilers vary.
Rest before slicing. Transfer the steak to a cutting board and tent loosely with foil. Let it rest for 8 to 10 minutes. This is non-negotiable: it keeps the juices in the meat, not on your board.
Slice thin against the grain. Identify the direction of the muscle fibers, then cut perpendicular to them at a slight diagonal, in slices no thicker than 1/4 inch. This is the step the class taught me: thin-slicing is technique, not just preference. It transforms a tough cut into something tender.
Serve. Arrange slices on a platter and garnish with sliced green onions. Serve with steamed rice, a simple cucumber salad, or whatever you have on hand.

Nutrition (per serving)

Easy London Broil — The Night We Learned to Slice Meat and Started Building Something