How Steakhouses rip you off...

I am always amazed at how much restaurants and steakhouses charge for a meal. I think in our minds we have decided that a good steak at a fancy eatery requires some serious lightening of our wallets. I don't know why it is this way but I have a theory. It is my belief that the general public doesn't often pay attention to meat pricing and just assume that they are paying for a quality meal and whatever comes with it. Truth be told, what you are paying for is the establishment owner's new boat/tow rig.

Yesterday, we got a couple of USDA Prime Short Loins in and I promptly decided what I'd be enjoying for dinner the next night. After checking the retail cost (what I sell them for in the counter with our market's normal markup), I was taken aback. Not because of the how much it cost but because of how little it cost. I checked the pricing of one of the nicer restaurants here in town and have compared the pricing below.

2 - 16oz. USDA Prime T-Bone steaks from your friendly neighborhood butcher (me) $14.94.

• $7.47 per pound. This price includes two steaks (cut to order), seasoning and gratuity (while I do accept tips, I get one maybe once a month and it gets donated to the after work refreshment fund). Yes, the one downside is that you'll have to cook it. At least it'll be on your plate before the grill man in the kitchen stuffs the alternative under a heat lamp waiting for the rest of your party's order to get done.

1 - 24oz. USDA Choice T-Bone steak from your life-sucking favorite restaurants $39.95.

• $26.64 per pound. Sure, that includes a salad and fries but let's get real. Your plate of fries probably cost the grill $.50 and I can assure you that your salad wasn't what made the almost quadruple price per pound jump. Hell, they won't even include a soda with that. To top it all off, "For your convenience, a gratuity of 15% will be added to parties of 12 or more. Menu prices subject to change." Change? You mean rape your customers even more?

Another example is a steak sandwich. Last night, I made a couple of killer steak sandwiches. Two sandwiches, One pound of USDA Choice New York Steak on each and a half-pound of Provolone cheese on each. Each one of my 24oz. sandwiches cost no more than $6.00 or $7.00.

Their 12 oz. New York Steak Sandwich (from the same restaurant lambasted above)? $23.99. I guess the extra $17.00 gets you toast and fries.

Moral of the story? Be careful of which restaurant you are at when picking up the tab.

500 lbs. of ground beef...

This order was a P.I.T.A.

It's time you found out...

Lately, I have had too many chance encounters with people/blogs/clowns who believe in altering all of their food. While there is nothing wrong with adding something to an existing recipe, there is nothing right about it either.

Coming from a guy who makes a living in the food industry, here is a suggestion. Stop. You are not Emeril. Luckily for you, you are not Rachel Ray. You are not clever or inventive. You are not a chef. These people you see on television, in magazines and on the Internet that have somehow inspired you to put additives in your food have one thing in common. They understand what works together and what doesn't. You do not.

To make matters worse, subsequent comments like; "Oh you are so clever! What a neat idea! How do you come up with so many cute ideas?! I'm a homo, can I have your number?!" balloon egos to the point where every stupid idea is put to the test. By test, I mean wasting eight hours of your day making sure everyone knows how brilliant your latest concoction is. Do you ever stop to think why guys like Bobby Flay make so much money? It has something to do with him spending eight hours of his day not cutting his kids food into the shape of animals you might find at the zoo.

Lately, it seems like hot dogs have been the food of choice to experiment with. And why not? They are cheap and disgusting and no matter how bad you make it look, your kids will still eat it. With my extensive knowledge of everything, including meat, I am going to tell you how hot dogs are made in an effort to make you realize that food is for eating.

When an animal is brought in for the slaughter, it is basically shot in the head (watch No Country For Old Men for insight). After being bled, cleaned and butchered, all that is left is remnants of muscles, tendons, sinew and other soft tissue. This is all sprayed off with high pressure hose and run through a strainer - on the floor. What is leftover is then whipped in what looks like Edward Scissorhands version of the Kitchen Aid mixer. Add seasonings, cook and the finished product is what you buy from your local supermarket.

A lesson on measurements...

Today, a grumpy old cuss wanted some thick-cut ribeye steaks. No problemo. When asked what thickness he would like, he replied "a large inch and a half". I cut the four steaks he wanted and proceeded to show them to him. He looked at me as if I just kicked his dog. I probably should have if I knew then what a pain in the ass he was going to be. Just for kicks, I took this picture to prove that I am not an ass and actually do know what I am doing.

Apparently, I was the idiot for cutting those steaks way thicker than 1 1/2". From here, I can take this situation two ways. First, he knows better than a ruler what an inch and a half looks like or second, I now have the 9 inch member I always wanted. Since I know that size doesn't matter, I figured this guy was going to be the one who knows more than a measuring stick.

I cut four more steaks in an effort to please him. This time, two-thirds of what he originally asked for, or 1+ inches to the lay person. What happened next made my day. He again thought they were too thick. By this time, I had had enough and just pulled for of the steaks out of the counter (where at any given time there are 25-30 steaks waiting to be sold). He seamed to think those were about right, gave me a look of "I'm an idiot but your a prick", and went on his way.

How some people survive, I'll never know.

Everything I learned in grade school doesn't matter...

When I have to work the register, I get the opportunity to see how people pay for things. This sounds like a boring and simple minded task and unfortunately, it is.

Sometimes, even the most simple of tasks can lead to endless people skills. For instance, when something is expensive, there are those who wince as it in pain. How in the hell do you react to that? Smile and say "thank you" as you take away this weeks paycheck? What about when someone has more to say than could be put into a novel but they aren't talking to you (damn those cell phones)? Smile and let them get away with it?

If you think I am going to give you examples or answers to those questions, read elsewhere. Those answers can only be had by being surrounded by your customers every day. Now that I am more skilled than you at cutting meat and reading people, you get to learn that retail sucks and you should steer clear.

Now on to the grade school business. What is the first thing you learn that sticks with you forever? Writing your name comes to mind. I can't tell you how many times I ask for a signature on a receipt and someone scribbles, for the lack of a better word, chicken scratch.

Sorry, this isn't the Civil War. In this day and age, most people read and if you "make your mark" instead of writing your name, maybe you should be sent to the war by the Union Army. I mean, how hard is it to write your name. Hell, it does belong to you. Being one of the few things that isn't tangible that one carries throughout their lives would mean something to people. Wingdings isn't a language you lazy bastards.

there are few things worse than liver...

I know that some people out there enjoy liver. They would be described as geriatrics. I would be willing to bet that the youngest person to ever buy liver from my store is over the age of 50. Back in the good ol' days, people ate whatever they could get their hands on, strange organs included.

Fast-Forwarding to the present day, I have taken the liberty of giving you a first hand look at my feelings towards liver.

For those that take offense, I apologize. If you ever get the chance to touch liver, you will have one of two options. The first being to decline in the touching of such a disgusting cancer of life and soul ( this would be my suggestion). And second, you could go ahead and touch the damn thing. Subsequently, I am assuring you now that you will not be offended and will probably join in the fun.

How to clean your grill.

If you use your grill, chances are it gets dirty. Follow these simple steps to cleaning your grill.

• Borrow a family member's new truck.


• Load the dirty grill in the back and secure. Nevermind the truck, you don't want to lose your grill on the road somewhere.


• Wear a rain slicker.


• Pull into the local car wash and spend a good four dollars with the high pressure spray.
  

Sound like a lot of work? No worries. Let these gals handle it. I guarantee they won't be having this much fun but who cares?.