I have vivid childhood memories of tagging along to the supermarket with my mum and her methods of judging if a piece of meat was fresh or whether it had gone off, she would always sniff the meat – if it smells good, it can’t be bad. Growing up in Brunei, everybody has a passion for beef, so much so that the government owns a cattle farm in Northern Australia, over 2000 square miles and just a shy larger the country itself – completely dedicated satisfying the appetite of a nation. Ironically enough, quantity doesnt equate quality as the produce is of largely forgettable quality; so bad that I would say it’s some of the worst beef I’ve ever eaten. Local supermarkets would use red tinted fluorescents to light the glass counters so as to make the beef look more appealing. My mum would always hold it up against white light, and she almost always opts for the tenderloin and nothing else because that was the only cut of beef tender enough not to turn into a rubber tyre after searing. This meant that all beef had to be tenderised before cooking. My mum started out with powdered tenderisers, though it soften the meat, it gave it a horrible plastic taste. Later on, she switched to a more ‘direct’ approach to tenderising with a studded steel hammer designed to pound the life out of the meat. Her speciality were seared black pepper tenderloin steak sandwiches. I liked mine with white bread and just a dash of Heinz… those were the days. Beef import choices weren’t always limited to the government owned ranch and back in the colonial days (Eighties), supermarkets stocked air flown Prime USDA beef, and even scotch beef, but that was a long time ago. In the ensuing years, my family’s quest for the bovine would be supplemented by regular trips around the globe and unsurprisingly, we would seek out the best grills in town to satiate our ever growing appetite.
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