Recipes

Two small steaks, three full plates

Here's a quiet bit of kitchen maths. Two 140g medallions doesn't sound like dinner for three — until you roast a tray of pumpkin, sear the fillet medium-rare, rest it properly and slice it thin across the grain. Suddenly every plate gets sweet golden pumpkin, creamy feta, toasted pepitas and a generous fan of the tenderest beef there is. It's the kind of dinner that feels abundant without being heavy, and it makes the smallest pack in the share go further than you'd believe.

The great Aussie celebration plate, done at home

There was a time when steak crowned with garlic prawns was the fanciest thing an Australian bistro could put in front of you. It still earns its keep — and it turns out the whole plate is a 25-minute, one-pan job. Sear the medallions, rest them under foil, and the prawns cook in garlic butter in the same pan while you set the table. The resting juices go back into the butter at the end, which is the part the bistros never told you about. Anniversary, birthday, or just a Tuesday that deserves better — this is the one.

Salty fat, doing exactly what fillet needs

Eye fillet has one weakness — it's the leanest cut on the beast — and butchers worked out the fix generations ago: wrap it in something fatty and let the wrap do the basting. Prosciutto is the elegant version of that old trick. As the band crisps around each medallion, its salty fat renders into the meat, and a quick butter-and-sage baste at the end brings the whole thing together. Two medallions, one pan, thirty-five minutes — and a plate that looks like far more work than it was.

The grand project, cut down to exactly what's in the pack

A whole beef Wellington is a magnificent thing that needs a dinner party to justify it. Individual Wellingtons are the smarter play: your two 140g medallions are precisely the right size, everyone gets their own golden pastry parcel, and there's no nervous carving in front of an audience. This is a proper Saturday-afternoon project — duxelles, prosciutto, puff pastry, the works — but every stage is honest and none of it is hard. Give it ninety minutes and pour yourself something while the oven does the final act.

The restaurant sauce that's secretly a one-pan job

Marsala and mushrooms is what good Italian restaurants have been spooning over fillet for generations, and there's a reason: the cut is mild and buttery-tender, and the sauce brings the caramel depth it's quietly asking for. Here's the good news — the whole thing happens in one pan. Sear the medallions, rest them under foil, and while they sit, the mushrooms, Marsala and cream build the sauce on the same browned bits the steaks left behind. Forty minutes, start to plate, and it looks like you booked a table.

The fanciest steak in the share, on a Tuesday

Eye fillet has a reputation as restaurant food — the cut you order out because you're worried about wrecking it at home. Here's the truth: two medallions, a hot pan and eight minutes is all it takes, and the garlic cream sauce builds itself in the same pan while the steaks rest. No tricks, no cheffy equipment, no stress. If it's your first go at the tenderest cut in the pack, this is exactly where to start.

The dish that asks everything of the cut — and nothing of the cook

Carpaccio is Venice's great confidence trick: it looks like restaurant theatre, and there's no cooking in it at all. Paper-thin raw fillet, good olive oil, lemon, rocket, capers, parmesan — that's the entire dish. What it does demand is the tenderest, cleanest cut there is, from a source you trust completely, and that's exactly what the twin pack in your share was born for. The only technique is a trick: half an hour in the freezer firms the medallions so your sharpest knife can shave them gossamer-thin. After that, you're just arranging.

Vietnam's celebration beef, straight off a smoking-hot pan

Bo luc lac means "shaking beef" — cubes of fillet tossed over ferocious heat until they're caramelised outside and still rosy in the middle, then tipped over watercress so the hot juices wilt the greens and become the dressing. In Vietnam it's a celebration dish, made with the tenderest cut in the house, and that's precisely what's in your pack. The marinade takes thirty minutes in the fridge and the cooking takes four. The lime-pepper dip on the side is non-negotiable — one taste and you'll understand why.

The easiest steak you'll ever put on the barbecue

Fillet is so lean there's next to nothing to drip onto the flames — which means no flare-ups, no scorched patches, no juggling steaks around the grill. While the potatoes bake away under the hood in their foil jackets, the medallions want just a few quiet minutes over direct heat and a rest under a melting knob of garlic butter. It's barbecue cooking at its most relaxed, and the reward is the tenderest steak you'll eat all year.