The Secret to a Tender (Not Tough) London Broil

Make London broil you actually want to eat (not one that you want to bury in the backyard).
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Lennart Weibull

Yes, everybody makes basic cooking mistakes. Like, say, something as simple as overcooking mushrooms or toasting grains and spices. Below, reader Rhonda Perrett confesses majorly overcooking a London broil to associate food editor Rick Martinez. Here’s Martinez's advice for making sure it never happens again. Welcome to Effed it Up.

Dear Rick, I made a London broil that needed to be buried in the backyard. I'm serious: I could've used that thing as a weapon. I don't know how it happened. I followed the directions exactly, cooked it the way I was supposed to, and cut it correctly. But it still tasted horrible. Maybe it was the marinade? It was very acidic with maybe not enough balance. It had four large cloves of garlic, four tablespoons of balsamic vinegar, four tablespoons of fresh lemon juice, three tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce, one teaspoon of soy sauce, one teaspoon of dried oregano, one teaspoon of dried basil (crumbled), ⅔ cup of olive oil, and sliced onion. Where did I go wrong, Rick?

Thanks,
Rhonda


Dear Rhonda,

I'm really sorry to hear you had to bury your sour London broil. I hope it's in a big, beautiful Lacanche range in the sky. I was never been a big fan of this style of beef until last summer. After a few London broils out on Fire Island with a friend who is a die-hard fan, I'll have to admit I was converted. A London broil, when seasoned and cooked properly, is a wonderful way to serve steak to a crowd without breaking your family (or beach) budget.

But, Rhonda, it sounds like you followed your recipe pretty exactly and still ended up with something unpleasant, even inedible. Many of the London broil recipes I've encountered were very similar to yours—with lots of acid, including both lemon juice and vinegar. Apparently, in the 1950s and 1960s, when London broils were having their moment, Americans also preferred higher levels of acidity in their meats. (I assume that's probably because it masks the flavors of meat that were slightly off, but I guess it was also in vogue at the time.) They put vinegar and lemon juice in everything(!) in large quantities, from pork chops to desserts and cocktails. It's sort of like how we've been using sriracha over the last decade.

Flank Steak with Bloody Mary Tomato Salad. Photo: Ditte Isager

Ditte Isager

London broils can be a bit game-y and even tough, and the acid definitely helps neutralize that flavor. It'll also tenderize the lean muscle fibers.

But, when you treat a London broil like a regular steak—cooked medium rare, either grilled or pan-seared and butter-basted with salt and pepper or dry-rubbed with your favorite spice mix—it will not disappoint.

Try this: Rub steak with the cut side of a halved garlic clove and liberally season both sides of your London broil with salt and pepper. Let it sit at room temperature on a rack set inside a rimmed baking tray for at least one hour. The salt will dissolve and will be absorbed into the meat. Prepare a grill for medium-high heat (or heat a grill pan over medium-high). Grill the first side for four minutes, then rotate 45° from its original spot on the grill (but don't turn it over) in order to get the crosshatch grill marks. Continue to grill for another three to four minutes, then flip and repeat the process, until it's charred and medium-rare. An instant-read thermometer should register 125°F when it's ready—about 10 to 12 minutes total. Let it rest about 10 minutes before cutting, and serve it with a pat of butter (I'd say herb-lemon zest compound butter if you're feeling adventurous).

And that, Rhonda, is how you make a London broil you won't be burying in the backyard.

Love,
Rick

When you're ready to meet the king of all steaks, this slow-roasted, twice-fried Porterhouse will be waiting.