When she did a steak over the coals, she used a thick, well-aged porterhouse and cooked it slowly. She felt it should have a good crust and be as rare as possible, but heated through and juicy. And, she thought, why hurry? There was nothing more important at the time than getting the steak cooked to perfection. People could wait for the steak, but she’d be damned if the steak would wait for people. She cooked a steak only when Mr. Hamblet or someone coming from Portland would bring one from her own butcher—the same was true of chops—because she held such a low opinion of most of the Seaside
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