Steak Frites, Steak with Fries. Call it what you want, when I’m in the mood for some red meat this is the dish that I crave. More specifically, it’s the Hanger Steak from Cafe Mogador. It’s probably my favorite steak in NYC and I pretty much order it most times I’m there. It’s kind of crazy because compared to steakhouse prices this steak is cheap cheap cheap yet so satisfyingly yum. Ok, so I haven’t tasted every single Hanger Steak there is to taste in NYC but I’m just so happy with the steak at Mogador. I can’t bear the disappointment I might feel if I ordered it some place else and it just didn’t live up to my Mogador expectations. You know, that sinking feeling you get when you realize it’s just not going to be that special?
The steak at Cafe Mogador is typically served medium rare and comes pre-sliced with fried shallots, a delicious red wine sauce, french fries and watercress. The meat tender and full of red wine, earthy, charry goodness. Sometimes I get so sad when I rock up for dinner at Mogador and it’s not on the menu. I’ll always just double check with wait staff. “Are..Are you sure you’re not doing the hanger steak tonight?” Last year, Mogador opened up up a second location in Williamsburg, nice and close to where I live. Maybe a little too close?
I’ve contemplated making Hanger Steak at home a couple of times but there was always something that prevented me from making it. I’d never heard of that cut of meat till I came to the states so it wasn’t the type of thing I felt comfortable asking the butcher for. Side note – apparently Hanger Steak is also called Butchers Steak because they’re known for keeping it for themselves. Thanks Wikipedia! One time I confidently walked up to the butcher and asked for it, only to be told “No Hanger Steak!” Maybe he had it all stashed away for himself that day? I’ve occasionally looked for the cut at the local supermarket and have never had any luck. But a couple of weeks ago I was delighted to stumble on lots of Hanger Steak cuts in the meat section in my local supermarket. “It’s a sign!” I thought and off I went, picking up all the ingredients I would need.