Have you ever looked at someone’s life and went, “Wow, I wish I could live like them?” I now do that, only with meat.

It’s called “sous vide,” literally translated from French, means, “under vacuum” or “meat of life.” Probably the former, though I’d argue after tasting sous vide meat it’s the latter.

Basically, it’s the culinary cooking technique of sealing meat in plastic and having an electric rod gently bath it in a tub of circulating water at a constant temperature. It only makes sense to have your meat have a more relaxing and luxurious life than you. The benefits include having the meat proteins break down more slowly, which helps to maintain moisture and flavor. It’s also much more difficult to overcook since the temperature of the water remains constant so you get the meat the precise temperature without hacking it in half to check the color midway through only to lose most of it down the grill while you try and patch it together with cheese.

I was introduced to this particular style of cooking after reading about it somewhere, looking up a particular model one time and being followed around the internet by retargeting ads like a golden retriever with separation anxiety, which basically went like this:

Internet: “DOES YOU WANT TAR BRUAY THIS MACHINEY?”

Me: “No, not right now, Internet.”

Internet (sad)

Me (looking at the online weather forecast): “Huh. It might rain.”

Internet: “THESE THUNDERCLOUDS ARE BROUGHT TUH YAR BY SOUS VIDE MACHINERR!”

Me: “No, Internet! That’s a BAD internet. Not right now!”

Internet (sad)

Me (looking at a news story): “Well, that’s terrible.”

Internet: “DO YAR KNOW WHAT NOT TERRIBLER?”

Me: “Don’t say sou-”

Internet: “SOUS VIDE MACHINERRR!”

Me: “Fine. FINE! I’ll buy one. There! I did it. Are you satisfied now? Will you finally leave me alone?”

Internet: “How about this vacuum sealer?”

It works so well I find myself fantasizing about this thing and the recipes I can make.

Wife (in bed): “Whatcha thinking about?

Me: “How I need to first create an under-the-counter refrigerator/freezer that can be unlocked with a timer or via smartphone app and have vacuum-sealed meat plop into a preheated water bath so I can have perfectly-cooked meat right when I pull in the driveway.”

Wife: “What?”

Me: “I mean your eyes. They are so beautiful.”

Wife: “…”

Me: “Like a perfectly-cooked steak.”

I now have a “sous vide gaze,” an eager look on my face when she knows I’m not concentrating on whatever boring thing we’re doing that’s not prepping dry rub for a brisket.

*Son scores rare goal in soccer game when his previous major accomplishment had been not falling while standing still*

Wife (looking at me, excitedly): “Did you see that?!”

Me (looking normally handsome): “Huh? Oh yes.”

Wife (evaluating me with her scrutiny eyes): “Wait a second…are you-”

Me: “Dry rubbed tri-tip steak…132 degrees for six-and-a-half-hours.”

Wife: “You can’t be serious right now.”

Me: “OMG…it’s going to be so tender.”

If you were to describe this device to someone 100 years ago, people would think you were a warlock.

You: “No, you see, you plug this heating rod into the wall and you can turn it on from your phone while you’re at work at the paper mill or whatever and cook your beaver meat in a warm bath. Wait, where are you taking me? Help!”

Since discovering sous vide I’ve been the annoying kid that walks up to you and tells you about the new band he discovered that you’re too lame to know about yet.

“Dude, do you even ‘vide?”

“Sir, this is CVS. I’m just here to give you your prescription.”

Unfortunately, I assumed my parents had heard about this technique but my mom was unprepared for the culinary vocabulary, which made her instantly nervous she was going to have to turn me in.

Me: “Mom, have you done sous vide yet?”

Mom: “Kelly! I’m your mother! I don’t think you should be doing drugs much less asking me for them! You have kids! What am I going to tell your father?”

Now they’re hooked on the ‘vide. I cannot be stopped.

——

Kelly Van De Walle can be reached at

vandkel@hotmail.com.