The holiday meal, in America, has become an exercise in gourmandism. It has become an inborn tendency. The winter holidays have come nearer to our beloved Thanksgiving meal: gatherings with friends and family, large meals dominated by impertinent distain, self-complacency, misanthropy, and football (if not on the television, at least in our hearts and conversation). It is the time of the year when we discard any attachment to organic delicacy or, for the cook, the concentration and patience needed to prepare the most palatable dishes. The resigned participant welcomes the release of a belt notch when the groaning board ends and the mind rests in a myopic regalement. We have become blind to taste, as the ignorant are to illumination.
So in the interest of sensual predestination, I now reveal the foundation stone of my favorite holiday meal—beef tenderloin; a food surely to make your sleep light, anxious, and eclectic (especially when we overstep the limits of discretion).
Use any size tenderloin (but the bigger the better). Preheat oven to 500. Place meat (room temp) in oven and immediately turn temperature down to 350. Roast for fifty minutes. Remove from oven and let stand ten minutes before slicing.
On this evening I will do justice to my society and award it with proper gratitude, which is something an unprejudiced commentator would frown upon.
“I am a great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit.”-- Twelfth Night: act 1, scene 3