Go big (and bloody) or go home

It’s called the tomahawk, a 44-ounce slab of rib-eye steak so massive and marbled it’s wheeled out to customers on a pushcart. With a steer bone jutting from it like an ax handle, the tomahawk escapes the kitchen in a steamy hiss of popping beef bubbles and garlic-flecked comets of juice. To the health-minded eater, this special offering from the Buckhorn Steakhouse in Winters is akin to slow-motion suicide. (Technically speaking, it can be ordered as a “dinner for two” on Tuesdays and Fridays.) But for those in touch with the half-feral, Paleolithic side of their DNA, the only way the picture could be more beautiful would be a tomahawk cooked rare enough to make the first slice into it reminiscent of a scene from American Horror Story.

The debate continues on whether or not red meat is harmful. Some experts claim it’s nutritious. Others cite studies linking it to illnesses. This confusion has led people to think biting into the relatively small amount of red meat contained in a hamburger is less risky than cutting into a bulbous porterhouse steak or a bacon-wrapped filet mignon. A New York Times investigation in 2009, however, revealed that a huge amount of hamburger patties circulating through the United States are made of “slaughterhouse trimmings and a mash-like product” that is “treated with ammonia” with hopes of fighting E. coli.

That’s right, depending on where you get a burger, there is a chance it’s washed in the same chemical used for darkening woodwork, sanitizing toilets and mixing diesel fuel. If this meth lab-esque food prep offered a 100 percent shield from E. coli, it might be worth it. Unfortunately, in some notable cases, consumers chowing down on that type of patty still contracted the bacterial infection.

So, what’s the takeaway? A foodie is at some risk of E. coli no matter what red meat they scarf down, but you can skip the mystery mixing and ammonia-dousing by just ordering a big, solid-beef, pure-cut steak rather than a burger.

While you’re at it, make it as rare as possible. Rare steak has more vitamins, nutrients and healthy enzymes than the nearly tasteless medium-well beef abominations some cooks will acquiesce to. Anyone who’s grown up in a ranching community know there are a few levels of ordering rare for maximum juiciness: There’s justifiably dangerous; there’s make everyone at the table uncomfortable; and there’s my personal favorite—“right off the hoof.”

A good rule of thumb for ordering a shockingly rare steak is to avoid doing so at chain restaurants. The Sacramento region lacks in independent, old-fashioned, slightly beyond their time steakhouses, but Manderes in Folsom, the Waterboy in Midtown and, most notably, the Buckhorn Steakhouse, are solid options for a tasty bloodbath. The Buckhorn is owned by veteran butcher John Pickerel, who makes sure his rugged saloon uses the quality cuts, aged up to 60 days and still chopped with a band saw.

And if his 44-ounce Tomahawk, which weighs the same as a steam iron, is a wee bit much, don’t worry, he also sells a stellar rib-eye that’s just 24 ounces—one that will only take about 50 blissful hours to digest.