When Dave and I were in college, the cafeterias did their best to serve food that was wholesome and healthy (a salad bar appeared at student request), but that also made a teenager's heart sing rather than sink. As I spent a couple of years there cracking eggs--this is true--I know better than some. Saturday nights were "steak nights," and you seldom missed that meal, even if you had eaten all day long that day or were out at the lake at a kegger. It was there I first heard the words London Broil or realized steaks could have sauces. In the house where I grew up, good steak didn't need sauce; it simply wasn't done. (Groan.) You wouldn't ruin a gorgeous piece of midwest beef like that. Looking back, of course the cafeteria steaks probably needed sauce. The rarely-seen (ha) summer ribeye at home was fine with only a bit of garlic salt with pepper and a nice big crunchy salad right out of my Dad's garden. Mayonnaise was the dressing of choice.
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