A Light Saturday Lunch ... filet de boeuf Rossini

For my first effort I thought I'd start with one of the trusty old favourites that I made the other day for lunch with a friend: good old filet de boeuf Rossini. It's quick, easy, delicious and decadent; great if you're planning on buttering up your mistress whilst demonstrating that you are in fact a multi-talented caring person, or alternatively if you just want a really nice light lunch with a friend. Or someone else, for that matter.

Start off with getting the sauce Béarnaise ready. I have heard of people buying this, and for a fact I have seen jars of the stuff on the shelves in the supermarket, but then again I've heard all sorts of weird stuff, not all of which was true, and I've never actually seen a jar in anyone's caddy, so maybe they're just there for show and this was all just a bad dream.

Anyway, for a classic sauce Béarnaise you start out by reducing wine vinegar by three-quarters with finely chopped shallots, then straining it ... quite frankly I just can't be arsed going though all that so I make Bastard Béarnaise, and no-one's yet pulled me up on it. Take an egg yolk, put it in a small saucepan, and add an equal volume of vinaigre d'echalotte or, if you want, balsamic vinegar. Personally I find that this latter makes a slightly sweet sauce, but Sophie really liked it (plus it's the only kind of vinegar she has, which rather limited my options) and I have to admit that it actually goes rather well with the foie gras, which we'll get to later.

Right, you have the two together in a saucepan, now put that on a really really low heat and start whisking shit out of it until it starts to thicken, at which point TURN THE HEAT OFF because you really do not want vinegary scrambled eggs. Well, you might, but that's not the object of the exercise here. Whatever, the residual heat in the saucepan will carry on cooking the mixture while you whisk in the butter: as much as you think it'll hold, probably around 50gm. If you've done it correctly you should have a thick yellow velvety sauce in the pan: if you have a puddle of melted butter with eggy lumps or something ghastly that looks like a curdled bit of sick, you have done it wrong. Try again. (Recipe books all tell you to do this in a bain-marie. If you really like extra washing-up, by all means go for it, but I don't, so I don't. Then again, I also have a stove where "low heat" means exactly that.)

Salted butter or unsalted? Silly question, unsalted butter is the invention of the devil and has no place in the kitchen nor, indeed, anywhere else in the house - unless you have found other uses for the stuff. In which case, don't bother to let me know.

Assuming that you've got this far, it's frying pan time. Cut a few slices off the bit of home-cured bacon that's lurking in the fridge - preferably the bit that you slathered with maple syrup whilst it was drying in the cellar. If you've run out, no worry: either make some more - which does rather mean that'll be a month before you can get around to finishing the recipe, by which time the sauce will have gone off - or go quickly down to the market and buy some, or leave it out. It doesn't actually feature in the traditional recipe anyway. But don't use the stuff in plastic packets at the supermarket, it's very nasty, full of water, and probably gives your brain boils. Do without.

Okay, frying the bacon. Do this, let it get crispy, take it out and let it drain, leaving as much fat and crispy bits as possible in the pan. Do not eat them just now.

About now would be a really good time to go get another glass of rosé, and ask your partner/significant other/friend why the hell it is that whilst you've been slaving your arse off in the kitchen all this time they've not made any progress on the salad?

Once you've cleaned and bound any wounds (if you're in the kitchen, you have the knives, which kind of reduces the risks of major damage) it's time to open up one of the tins of foie gras you have stashed away and cut a couple of thickish slices off it. Don't slash your wrists with the sharpy bits of lid, and don't bother using hideously expensive stuff: a 200gm tin at about 4€ is just fine for this. Considering what's going to happen to it.

If you're now ready to eat, heat up the frying pan with the bacon fat and crispy bits in it until good and hot, then stick in your two slices of fillet steak. (And I'm sorry, this has to be good. Which does not necessarily mean expensive - M. Bourraoui, the Arab butcher in Faubourg Montmelian* does great fillet at about 15€/kg - and you're only going to be using about 300gm for the two of you, but don't try using another cut. If you do it will be gross and it will all be your fault.)

Now stick the crispy bacon back in there too, and cook the steaks until they're just a shade underdone - which will of course depend on how you like your steak. Personally I find "bleu" (very rare) to be a bit too runny, but anything past "à point" (medium) is a heresy, and you'll have the Pope at your door. Turn the heat off, shovel the bacon bits on top of each steak, and top them with a slice of foie gras. And, with great patience, let them sit for a minute or two. Take the opportunity to get another glass, and check up on the salad.

Finally, the moment you've been waiting for - stick one steak per plate and pour a liberal helping of Béarnaise sauce over the foie gras, which should have started to melt into the bacon. There'll be a bit of juice in the frying pan - use the spatula to mix all the crispy bits into this and then drizzle it onto the sauce.

Serve to general acclamation and with plenty of bread to sop up the sauce. And for eating the rest of the foie gras (because in theory - unless you've been eating it all this while - there will be quite a bit left over). And don't forget the salad, given that you've been bitching about it.

(There are no photos to accompagny this. Partly because it's not really that photogenic, partly because we were actually quite hungry, what with the wait for the salad and all, but mainly because I didn't have my camera with me. Unless you count my phone, which I don't, because I've never bothered to learn how to actually use the camera in the damn thing. Whatever.)

Next time, if I feel like it, I might tell you how to get rid of the burnt-on sugary black bits that inevitably form in your baking dish when you stick a load of BBQ spareribs in the oven and then get on the phone with Karen.

*Shopping street in Chambéry, France.