Steak Tartare at Angele
I love steak tartare. There’s something about the deep red color of the meat, it’s savory flavor, and the toothsome mouthfeel. It’s often served with a raw egg yolk, for which I’m also a sucker.
Probably the best, most consistent preparation I’ve ever had is at Angele, the stalwart Napa Valley institution that has been around for years.
Angele is a modern French bistro. The interior is paneled in rough hewn wood, and simple black wrought iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Large modernist paintings of fruit hang at either side of the dining room. Persimmons at one end, and apples at the other. Tables are clothed in clean white linen topped by white butcher paper. The silverware is substantial, but simple French bistro ware - nothing fancy.
Their covered patio faces the Napa river and is absolutely epic. In the summer months, It’s the perfect place to enjoy brunch. We’ve put away many a bottle of Schramsberg Blanc de Blanc on breezy Sunday afternoons.
Last Monday night, I met a friend at the bar. She had a cosmo, but I’ve been on a non-alcohol kick for a while. After a few hangovers, I’ve just decided to go without. So I’ve been enjoying mocktails. It's fun to see what a bartender can do when they are challenged to make a drink without alcohol. And I give them free reign. Chef’s choice is always a good option.
This time he came up with a cucumber mint ginger concoction in a tall glass, garnished with a few cucumber slices. It was light green and effervescent - refreshing as cucumber and mint should be, but had a bit of bite from the ginger.
Then it was time for us to order. I already knew what I wanted - the steak tartare. My friend waffled a bit, then decided on the hamburger. Classy place that Angele is, the bartender asked how she wanted it cooked.
“Warm in the middle, not charred or bloody.”
“Sounds good,” the bartender said, “What what kind of cheese? Gruyere, cheddar or blue?” Gruyere being a nod to Angele’s French motif, and bit perplexing for my companion.
“Cheddar,” she said after some contemplation.
And it was the steak tartare for me.
The bartender set out the requisite white linen placemat and napkins that they do for people eating at the bar. We noshed on their crusty baguette that - who knows where they get it - is just like what you’d get at a brasserie in Paris.
Our food came, swiftly, as it always does at Angele. Her’s was an open faced burger, a soft yellow with cheddar draped over the patty. Caramelized red onions with lettuce and tomato were on the side.
My steak tartare was a perfect as always. It comes with several narrow slices of crostini and salad of frisee that is lightly dressed with vinegar and oil. Thinly sliced radishes dot the salad which add a lovely bit of red color. The tartare itself comes in a short cylinder, with the requisite egg on top and sprinkled with parmesan cheese.
The key is to scoop the tartare onto the crostini and top that with the frisee. It’s a little hard to do because the frisee isn’t chopped. But if you can alternate between the tartare and the frisee, you can get the whole sense of the composition. I would pick up the crostini in one hand, put some tartare on it, then add a bit of frisee top of that with my fork so I can get all the vegetal, protein and starch components in my mouth. The crunch of the bread, soft give of the meat and a little green flavor of the lettuce all make for a pleasing mouthful.
As we talked, we surveyed the bar. There’s a whole selection of half bottles on the back in little wooden cubby holes. That’s unusual as the profit on a full bottle is often so much higher than on a half. The bar itself is nickel, with a wooden armrest that curls against you. My companion was asked to move her purse from the chair next to her, and we found a hook underneath the bar for her to hang it on.
There is a link between steak tartare and tartar sauce, though as with many things, the original name now longer resembles what you get. Steak tartare is no longer served with tartar sauce. But, back in 1921, in Escoffier’s Le Guide Culinaire, he listed “Beefsteak a l’Amèricaine” as what we now know of steak tartare, with the egg yolk. Whereas Escoffier calls “Beefsteak a la Tartare” simply the same preparation, without the egg yolk, but with tartar sauce on the side.
Some say that the 1938 edition of the Larousse Gastronomique changed the definition of steak tartare - that it could be served without the sauce and include the egg. But when I consulted both the 1921 Edition of Escoffier’s Guide Culinaire, as well as the 1938 Larousse Gastronomique, their definitions didn’t differ at all.
What’s also interesting is that there is no “e” at the end of tartar sauce - the white sauce made of mayonnaise and pickles often used to garnish fish, as we know it in the United States. But the “e” remains with steak tartare, referring, in Le Guide Culinaire and Larousse Gastronomique, to refer to tartar sauce. Now, most menus include the “e” in steak tartare, even though there is no tartar sauce in sight. It’s one of those odd, funny events that happen over time, that most likely no one even knows they are happening, until it’s years later, and the menus are already printed.
So it may be apocryphal. Some chef, or some diner, through experience or fashion, decided that you can call it steak tartare without the tartar sauce, while serving it with the the egg yolk. I have to say, I much prefer the egg yolk. Let’s leave the tartar sauce to the fish.
