Flank Steak Stir-Fry

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 and venison stew this week. Wild rice from the band. Venison from Erik's freezer. Onion, carrot, celery, garlic, beef stock, red wine, thyme. Two hours on the stove. The taste of the woods in October. The Damiano Center: a regular named Marlene, who has been coming for twelve years, told me her granddaughter just had a baby. She was glowing. She had a photo on her phone. The phone was old and cracked but the photo was clear: a small pink baby in a hospital blanket. Marlene said: "I am a great-grandmother now. The same as you." I said: "Welcome to the club." We hugged. The line continues, even on the hard side of the soup line. Mamma's bread pans are on the shelf where they have always been. I used the smaller one this week. The metal has worn smooth in the places her hands touched it for sixty years. The pan is, in some real sense, a sculpture of Mamma's hands. I knead the bread in the bowl Mamma used. I shape it on the counter Mamma stood at (well, mine, but identical to hers — same Formica color, same dimensions). I bake it in the pan Mamma baked in. The kitchen is the relay. The relay continues. 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 blogging for years now. The blog began as something to do at night when sleep would not come. The blog has become — without my fully intending it — a small congregation. The readers come back. They read the recipes. They read the parts that are not recipes. They write to me sometimes. They tell me what they cooked. They tell me about their own kitchens, their own losses, their own continued cooking. The congregation is its own form of company. It is enough.

The wild rice and venison were that week’s long, slow work — two hours on the stove, the taste of October woods — but this flank steak stir-fry is the version I reach for when the evening is shorter and the need is just as real. High heat, a good cut of beef, vegetables that still have some snap to them when they hit the table: it asks you to be present at the stove, which is exactly where I want to be. Marlene’s great-granddaughter was born into a world still full of people who cook for each other, and I think about that every time I get the wok going.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb flank steak, sliced thin against the grain
3 tablespoons soy sauce, divided
1 tablespoon sesame oil
2 teaspoons cornstarch
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
1 medium yellow onion, sliced into half-moons
1 red bell pepper, sliced
1 1/2 cups broccoli florets
1/4 cup beef broth
1 tablespoon oyster sauce
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
Cooked white or brown rice, for serving
Sliced green onions, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Marinate the steak. In a bowl, combine the sliced flank steak with 2 tablespoons soy sauce, sesame oil, and cornstarch. Toss well and let sit at room temperature for 10 minutes while you prep the vegetables.
Make the sauce. Whisk together the remaining 1 tablespoon soy sauce, beef broth, and oyster sauce in a small bowl. Set aside.
Sear the steak. Heat a wok or large skillet over high heat until smoking. Add 1 tablespoon vegetable oil and spread the steak slices in a single layer. Sear without stirring for 1 to 2 minutes, then toss and cook another minute until just browned. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
Cook the aromatics. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the wok. Add garlic and ginger and stir-fry for 30 seconds until fragrant.
Stir-fry the vegetables. Add the onion to the wok and cook 2 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the bell pepper and broccoli and stir-fry 3 to 4 minutes until the vegetables are crisp-tender and bright.
Finish the dish. Return the steak to the wok. Pour the sauce over everything and toss to coat. Cook 1 to 2 minutes until the sauce thickens slightly and coats all the ingredients. Season with black pepper.
Serve. Spoon over rice and garnish with sliced green onions if desired. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Flank Steak Stir-Fry — The Kitchen Is the Whole Territory