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Steak And Onions — The Kind of Meal You Make When the Ground Has Been Earned

Mid-September. Garden done. Pulled the tomato plants, stacked the cages, raked the bed. Added compost, covered with leaves, said thank you, which Connie overheard and will tell people about. I don't care because thanking the garden is not crazy, it's courtesy.

Made pinto beans Tuesday — not Monday, because Monday I was clearing the garden and forgot, the first time in seven years I've missed Monday beans. Spent all day Tuesday atoning. The beans were extra good, which I attribute to guilt.

Amber called Wednesday. Big news: James proposed. Saturday night at a restaurant in Louisville, ring in his pocket all week, Amber said yes before he finished the question. She was crying happy tears on the phone and I said congratulations and meant it from the bottom of whatever I have instead of a heart, which is probably a cast iron skillet because both are seasoned by years of use.

I asked when. She said next spring. I said are you okay with this. She said Dad, I've been okay since you told me he shows up. She said that's what Mom said too. I said your mother and I agree on the important things. We agree on almost nothing else, but we agree on the important things, and you are the most important thing.

The week I just described gave me a cast iron skillet and no patience for anything complicated — and that’s exactly the mood in which Steak and Onions was invented, or re-invented, or quietly remembered. The pinto beans on Tuesday were their own kind of ceremony, but after Amber called Wednesday, I needed something that required a hot pan, a little salt, and the kind of focus that shuts everything else out for twenty minutes. Cast iron and a good piece of beef will do that. This is the recipe I go back to when the season is ending and something new is starting at the same time.

Steak and Onions

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 2

Ingredients

  • 2 ribeye or strip steaks (about 3/4 inch thick, 6–8 oz each)
  • 2 large yellow onions, sliced into 1/4-inch rings
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
  • 1 tablespoon neutral oil (such as canola or avocado oil)
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper, freshly ground
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
  • Fresh thyme sprigs, optional

Instructions

  1. Season the steaks. Pat steaks dry with paper towels. Season both sides generously with kosher salt, black pepper, and garlic powder. Let rest at room temperature for at least 10 minutes while you prepare the onions.
  2. Cook the onions. Heat a large cast iron skillet over medium heat. Add 1 tablespoon butter and the oil. Once the butter is melted and foamy, add the sliced onions and a pinch of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 12–15 minutes until deeply golden and softened. Add Worcestershire sauce, stir to coat, and cook 1 more minute. Transfer onions to a plate and keep warm.
  3. Sear the steaks. Increase heat to medium-high. Add remaining 1 tablespoon butter to the skillet. When it begins to smoke lightly, lay steaks in the pan. Sear without moving for 3–4 minutes until a deep brown crust forms. Flip and cook another 3–4 minutes for medium-rare, or until desired doneness. If using thyme, add sprigs alongside the steaks in the final 2 minutes and spoon butter over the tops.
  4. Rest and serve. Transfer steaks to a cutting board and let rest 5 minutes. Slice against the grain or serve whole, topped generously with the caramelized onions.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 42g | Fat: 34g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 620mg

Craig Hensley
About the cook who shared this
Craig Hensley
Week 389 of Craig’s 30-year story · Lexington, Kentucky
Craig is a retired coal miner from Harlan County, Kentucky — a man who spent twenty years underground and seventeen hours trapped in a collapsed tunnel before he was twenty-four. He moved his family to Lexington when the mine closed, learned to cook his mama Betty's Appalachian recipes from memory because she never wrote them down, and now he's trying to get them on paper before they're lost. He says "reckon" and "fixing to" and means both. His bourbon-glazed ribs are, according to his wife Connie, "acceptable" — which is the highest praise she gives.

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