Arrogance and E. Coli

Those little bastards

Those little bastards

“I like my steak rare.  It’ll be fine.”

Those are the words I uttered last Saturday as I cut into a self-prepared steak and discovered my medium rare steak had clearly fallen more on the rare side.  Much more.

I’ll eat it anyway.  It won’t hurt me.  I’m a man.  I’m arrogant.  Especially when it comes to my ability to man a grill and my intestinal fortitude.  I also didn’t want to relight the grill.

Twenty-four hours later, as I lay sprawled across the linoleum in the bathroom, I began to wonder if I had made the right decision.

E. Coli is no joke.  If I’d have been a child or elderly I would’ve been hospitalized and may not be here  today.  As it was, I simply had 5 days of misery to ask myself why I didn’t give my rare steak a little more flame.

Now, I’m not going to become a medium-well kind of guy.  Stubbornness is another male trait I have in spades.  And, ultimately, rare doesn’t mean E coli.  It  only means I’ve hit the menu disclaimer:

* “Consuming raw or undercooked meats, poultry, seafood, shellfish or eggs may increase your risk of foodborne illness.”

But I am going to learn from my exercise in macho grill arrogance.  I will learn to cook my steaks a little longer.  And I will, I promise, relight the grill after cutting into a steak that gives me pause.  Unless I don’t feel like it.  It’ll be fine….

As a quick aside, since I’ve undermined my credibility in steak preparation, check out this guide to be sure my fate doesn’t befall you. 

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