I tasted a steak at a neighbors house once when I was a kid. I do believe he was of Norwegian heritage, but he may have been a Lapp. Anyway, the beef was from his own steer, which he had butchered about 3-4 weeks earlier. The steak was quite thinly sliced, less than a 1/2 inch. It was crusted with assorted herbs and spices, the flesh itself was almost black.

Cooking consisted of melting some fresh butter on top of a woodburning cookstove and searing the steak for about 2 minutes per side and then it was slapped on a plate. Hjar had one, and my Dad had one, and they shared a bottle of my Dad’s beet wine. I was given a small bite to taste. I think I was about 10, but I still can remember thinking that it was the most wonderful favor in the world.
Hjar died soon afterward (he was very old) and I have never tasted anything like that again.

My dad used to favor the beef labeled with the orange Sell By Yesterday tags. He really liked his food to be pre-digested.

The tenderest steak I ate during my world-wide quest for steak was in Scotland, of all places

Hey, I think I take offense to that. While the Scoth diet is bad health wise, and isn’t famous for variety, it does offer up some very tasty, imaginative dishes.

(OK, so deep fat frying a pizza is just wrong, but I think that one was invented by the bastard English.)

Shortbread! Yum!