Apparently, it’s a sort of fundraising dinner unique to the suburban New Jersey county where I grew up. A bunch of people get together in a large room and gorge themselves on all-you-can-eat beef tenderloin, french fries, and pitchers of beer. The tenderloin is served on pieces of “Italian” bread, which are not eaten, but are stacked up on the side of the plate (the bread serves as a sort of “scorecard” to tally the number of slices of tenderloin you’ve eaten, and the most gluttonous individual at the end of the evening wins a prize). I had never heard of the beefsteak before today. Sometimes, it’s combined with a sort of raffle called a “tricky tray,” another unique-to-New-Jersey tradition which I had never heard of.
Wait…a…sec… obscure regional thing? (check) From a place I knew quite well? (check) Relating to food? (check) Why didn’t I know about this before, and why did it take a couple of Brooklyn hipsters from Connecticut, of all places, to inform me?
It probably has a lot to do with my upbringing in Bergen County. I grew up Jewish with liberal parents in Upper Saddle River, a town that was overwhelmingly Christian and Republican. I attended a private school 25 miles away, kept to myself, and didn’t play sports. I spent my weekends going into New York City, rather than hanging out at Garden State Plaza mall. My sister, who went to public school, had lots of friends in the surrounding towns, and played basketball and field hockey, may actually be a little more familiar with this tradition than I am. The beefsteak, as it seems, was (and still is) the bulwark of the Republican, Christian county establishment, the kind of people who hang out in Elks Lodges and keep people like Scott Garrett (New Jersey’s answer to Paul Ryan) in power.
It’s a shame, though, because I simply love the idea of an event that is basically a cross between the Stone Cutters and a Brazilian churrascaria. Just don’t use the sacred parchment as a bib.
