Steak

When I was young my parent’s house back onto bushland. This meant that the shortage of neighbours was more than offset by the availability of firewood.

Often on a weekend we would have a barbeque for lunch (generally on a Sunday, Saturday was golf day). Standard fare was steak, sausages, tossed green salad and sauce.

Almost invariably the steak was cooked to within an inch of its life - well, a few feet into death, really. My father had been taught that meat is only cooked when it’s very dark, and consequently fairly tough. Tasty, yes, but equally chewy.