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Alton opens his show once again in that darkened realm known as the Food Gallery. In the Hall of Homecooked Horrors, he passes liver and onions (it’s on permanent display) and beets. Continuing, he surveys a mess he calls “Mom’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell Casserole” but passes that to stand before something worse: cube steak. This “morass of mixed meats” coated with flour and topped with “gravy” has horrified children and adults alike for years. But it doesn’t have to be that way. With a little love, a little consideration, and a little care cube steak, either slow cooked or fried, can be... Good Eats.

The term “cube steak” is something of a misnomer but was probably coined because it sounds better than “perforated meat.” Pulling out a beef diagram, Alton points out that cube steak typically comes from the round (normally the bottom round). This cut is popular because of its low price. But the muscle works hard, so it’s tough. It has a lot of flavor so it’s worth salvaging. The perforations turn tough flavorful meat into tender flavorful meat.

There are actually two varieties of cube steak: the standard sort called simply “cube steak” and “special cube steak.” Alton cuts to his “men in black” to explain more: the North American Meat Processors Association Item 1100 (aka “cube steak”) may be made from any portion of the animal except the shank and heel. Whereas Item 1101 (aka “cube steak, special”) must be made from the round, loin, rib or chuck sections of the animal and may not be “knitted” or “folded” together. Alton describes “knitting” as a way to turn several pieces of meat into a “Frankensteak.” Without a clear idea what went into it, why buy it? Alton recommends purchasing a two pound piece of bottom round roast and asking the butcher to slice it into ½” thick pieces, then perforating it at home.

Back in the kitchen, Alton faces the task of perforating his steak. He visits the Dungeon Master in his dark subterranean abode for help. It seems the Dungeon Master has been chasing ‘babes’ online most of the time recently. Alton threatens to go see “W” which prompts the Dungeon Master to show his steak perforator. With eighty six blades and “eleventy hundred” cutting edges it’s snazzy. It’s also made in Switzerland. Pressed, the fiend explains that he bought it over the Internet, using a piece of plastic that Alton is horrified to learn is one of his credit cards! At fifteen hundred dollars it’s too expensive. Ordering the Dungeon Master to return the device and then go skim the moat for punishment, Alton stomps back upstairs.

Upstairs, Alton examines some cheaper alternatives. One is a hand crank model that seems to crush the meat more than perforate it. Another is a tenderizer mallet – everyone’s got one, but it won’t do this job. Finally Alton finds “The Needler.” With dozens of needles and a safe handle, it will do the job. Alton demonstrates using a piece of gelatin: a few passes, turn, a few more passes, flip to the other size, and repeat the same process. It takes time, but it works well and it’s cheap.

Now that Alton has prepared his meat, he needs to figure out what to make with it. To learn, he hits a roadside diner. There he finds a lot of inconsistency across the country. In North Carolina, country fried steak would be cube steak dredged in flour, browned and braised in a brown sauce. In Maryland that would be called Salisbury steak (despite the fact that Dr. Salisbury designed his dish around ground meat). In Minnesota the same dish is Swiss steak. And in Texas you’d get battered steak pan fried and served with a pepper cream gravy.

Attempting to shed light on this culinary confusion, Alton offers this definition: country style steak is cube steak dredged in flour, lightly pan fried and braised in a brown sauce.

Alton starts with beef bottom round trimmed of fat and cut ½” thick. He salts and peppers the meat, then dredges it lightly in flour. Only then does he pull out The Needler and perforate the meat. The flour will help the meat hang onto juices that might otherwise leak out during perforation. After perforation the meat gets another coating of flour. Coated pieces wait to cook on a wire rack laid over a sheet pan until all the pieces are ready.

Alton next heats a four or five quart Dutch oven and adds just enough canola oil to coat the bottom of it. When that oil begins to shimmer, he adds he meat, leaving space between each piece and between the meat and the pot. Two minutes on each side brown the meat. When its browned, Alton stashes it on the oven’s lid (but a plate will do) under some foil. When all the meat is browned, Alton adds chicken broth to deglaze the Dutch oven. Then he whisks in some dried thyme; the whisking also loosens the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Once that boils, Alton puts the steaks back in and slides the pot into a 300º oven until the meat is the consistency of “buttah” – somewhere between 1½ and 2 hours.

When this country style steak is done it is so tender Alton doesn’t need a knife to cut it, and the braising liquid has turned into a fine sauce. The braising process completed what the Needler began: the destruction of the connective tissue that makes meat from hard working muscles tough.

This cooking method lends itself to a wide array of dishes, including Swiss streak. Alton sets out to make some. The name is misleading, because it refers not to the country, but to a British word swissing that described a process for rolling fabric back and forth between rollers to soften it.

Alton begins by browning meat as he did for country style steak. This time he loads the Dutch oven with onions, celery and garlic, sautéing until the onions brown. When that’s done he adds a little tomato paste, some diced tomatoes, Worcestershire sauce, dried oregano and smoked paprika (this can be found online, or you can use regular paprika) and finally beef broth. When that’s boiling Alton puts the steaks back in and makes sure to submerge them under the vegetables – if they float, they’ll miss out on half the flavor they’d collect immersed. Once again the steaks cook for about and hour and a half until they’re the consistency of “buttah.”

Alton goes back to a diner where he meets – nutritional anthropologist Deb Duchon! She’s there undercover doing “social research on middle aged suburbanite males and social bonding through caffeine consumption.” A real yawner judging by Alton’s reaction. Alton wants the unofficial state dish of Texas – chicken fried steak. Deb tells him this dish is based on Weiner schnitzel and was probably brought to the hills of central Texas by the thousands of German’s who immigrated there in the nineteenth century. Lacking veal, they adapted their recipe by tenderizing tougher cuts of meat. Even the white gravy traditionally served with the dish has roots in German cream sauce. Over time chuck wagon cooks started making it and it diverged into myriad varieties.

Alton decides to take matters into his own hands when he learns the diner cook is “experimenting.” After needling his meat and dredging in flour for the second time, Alton coats it with egg. Three eggs are sufficient for this quantity of meat. The egg dipped meat then gets dredged in flour a third time to build a thick exterior. Alton lets his meat rest on a wire rack for ten to fifteen minutes. While it rests he heats a ten to twelve inch slope sided frying pan and barely covers the bottom with oil (bacon drippings also work well and add more flavor). A pan works better for this recipe because it builds a gravy, not a stew.

Alton browns his meat four minutes per side, stashing browned pieces on a wire rack over a sheet pan in a 250º over to keep them warm. When the last piece is cooked he builds the gravy by adding a little more oil and a little flour (left over from the dredging works well). He whisks that thoroughly so every grain is covered with fat; a proper job here discourages clumping. When he’s satisfied he adds chicken broth and whisks that until it just boils. The starch will explode from the flour granules and thicken the mixture nicely. Alton whisks in some whole milk (cream is too rich and low fat milks aren’t rich enough) and some thyme for flavor, continuing until it coats the back of a spoon pulled through it. The last thing this gravy needs is a bit of salt and a whole lot of pepper.

Chewy, crusty and peppery with creamy gravy, the chicken fried steak meal lacks only one thing, and... there it is, beer!

Alton has demonstrated once again that food need not end up in the Food Gallery. Prepared properly it can instead be Good Eats.