My husband slammed my hand onto the burning stove because the steak was “overcooked.” As I collapsed in agony, my mother-in-law stepped over me, laughing, “She needs to learn her place.” My father-in-law just turned up the TV. They thought I was reaching for a bandage. I smiled through the tears and whispered, “enjoy your last few minutes of peace.” then, the siren lights flashed outside…
I turned on the induction stove, setting the heat perfectly. I pulled a prime cut of steak from the refrigerator, seasoning it carefully. I placed it in the cast-iron skillet, listening to the sharp, satisfying hiss of the meat hitting the hot metal.
I cooked it medium-rare. Exactly the way I preferred it.
No one shouted at me from the living room.continue reading …
