Though I celebrate culinary simplicity in theory — a crystalline yet oleaginous broth, a salted ripe tomato wreathed in basil, a steamed new-season potato — I am, in practice and in soul, a meddler who often mistakes more for superior. You know, “this recipe or menu item must be the best (and best value for money) because it has the most components”. And, in all honesty, I only desire a plain steamed potato, no matter how lovingly and organically grown, about zero point seven five times a year. Getting a firm grip on my maximalist tendencies doesn’t mean sacrificing flamboyance: see my café brûlot ice cream, which I accepted was significantly better with less condensed milk while still retaining both richness of flavour and component frequency. And so, this kimchi tagliata — a supremely simple recipe — has only been meddled with marginally, walking back my initial excess aspirations to great effect.

And sometimes you have to go forward to walk back to go forward again. First, I tried marinating chuck steak for several days in vinegar and kimchi brine, then just in kimchi brine, and at last I realised that this is best served with a cut more commonly accepted as steak; lightly oiled rather than soaking wet, with the delicately brash kimchi sliding in at the end — a delicious yellow brick road journey made more delicious by finally stumbling upon its desired conclusion. Proving as per usual that you can’t outrun perfection, only put an aerodynamic hat upon it.

This tagliata — which also has a slight nod to bulgogi, especially if you cook this on something cast iron — comprises tremblingly rare, gleaming slices of pepper-ridged steak, here paired with a mouth-filling salty, sour slosh of kimchi and shards of parmesan on a pile of rocket leaves. Now, I know the recipe has you stirring it into butter but despite its brininess, the kimchi, with its sweet, smokily numbing gochugaru heat somehow adds to the skillet-y richness of the steak, while the near-lemony, nutty tang of the parmesan and the feathery, peppery rocket leaves provide the levity, cutting through the richness. At least, that’s how my taste buds interpreted that Cumberland Square Eight dance of flavours; I’m sure I’m correct.

For these reasons, it has to be rocket and it has to be parmesan — if there’s a steak cut you vouch for over rump then I won’t stand in your way — but spinach leaves won’t cut it here, nor will generic lettuce — you need that fluffy, lacy bite from the rocket. (Okay, mizuna leaves: yes!) As for how rare you want it, I can only but look at you balefully and hope for the best. The kimchi should be whatever you prefer; something with more heat or a focus on a particular vegetable will bring its own tangents of flavour that are all welcome, as the kimchi’s fermented funk works beautifully with the more combative aspects of parmesan. As for the aforementioned butter, I used it primarily because olive oil is amercingly expensive right now; that being said, the butter lends a silky backdrop of richness; I wouldn’t be without it.

At its core, tagliata is a steak salad, and a good way to make a smaller quantity of meat go further; but it’s also so much more of a big deal than such crude elucidation would have you think — it’s celebratory, lush, and so easy — as but one mouthful will amply prove.

Kimchi Tagliata

You can’t improve on perfection, but you can add another perfect ingredient. This is rich and celebratory and exquisitely composed, yet completely uncomplicated. Quantities are really up to you — this is a good start. Concept obviously not mine, but recipe by myself.

• 400g rump steak
• A little neutral oil such as rice bran, about a teaspoon
• Salt and pepper, to season
• 30g butter
• 3-4 tablespoons kimchi, or to taste, chopped if large pieces
• 45g rocket leaves (arugula for Americans)
• 40g piece of parmesan, or thereabouts

1: Take the steak out of the fridge for about an hour beforehand. Brush each side of the steak with a few drops of the neutral oil, and grind over plenty of pepper, letting it cling to the oiled surface of the meat. Heat up a heavy-based frying pan, or whichever pan you reach for first when frying stuff like this.

2: Assuming you want this as rare as I do, sear the steak for one minute on each side — and I wouldn’t normally say this, but set your timer — then quickly remove the steak from the pan and wrap it in a length of tinfoil, leaving it to rest while you get on with everything else. It will continue cooking a little as it rests, and grow more tender as the fibres relax.

3: Take that pan off the heat and throw in the 30g butter, it should immediately melt and foam up, especially if your pans hold their heat like mine. Stir through the three tablespoons of kimchi, turning it in the hot butter, and let the pan sit off the heat while you move on to the next step.

4: Arrange the 45g rocket leaves either on a larger serving plate or two medium-sized plates. Unwrap the steak and slice thinly across the grain, without worrying too much about evenness, into floppy, red-centred pieces. Arrange the steak slices evenly over the rocket, spoon over the buttery kimchi, and any pan juices that have pooled in the tinfoil. Finally, use a vegetable peeler to shave off irregular slivers of parmesan, letting them fall where they may on the plate. Taste for salt — you probably won’t need it with all those distinct ingredients, but up to you.

Eat immediately. Serves 2, and although leftovers are oddly good fridge-cold I wouldn’t want to give them to anyone else.

music lately:

Supervixens by A.R. Kane. While I have all but given up on finding an original Loveless record, I think, with enough faith and persistence, I could get my hands on some A.R. Kane; and hopefully I get in before everyone realises there should be statues of them in every location that music is enjoyed, both municipally and domestically. I’m not good at choosing favourites but this song remains the top and untoppled.

Cough Syrup by Butthole Surfers. This song has a cautionary, highwayman-came-riding folk tale spirit to it that I love. I know they thoroughly predate SEO but as someone who despises and rejects SEO I will always applaud a band with an ungovernable name!

Symphony No. 9 by Bruckner, here conducted by Bernstein, particularly around 29 minutes in when — and it was already pretty angry — it suddenly becomes wrathful and pugilistic, as though you played a dozen elephants, or indeed, Bruckner himself, a Limp Bizkit CD and recorded the response. I was in an atrocious mood — because of my own error, but nonetheless! — when I saw this performed with ferocity by the Auckland Philharmonic Orchestra, but I could not have felt more seen or understood than if the orchestra had literally played Break Stuff. You should definitely listen, if only to that part halfway through, it’s just so irascible. And unfinished! Imagine the untold levels of scathing Bruckner could’ve generated with a bit more time on his hands!

PS: Unimaginable atrocities are occurring in Gaza and wider Palestine. If you’re after a way to support a local charity trying to get in on the ground and provide aid, despite nonstop setbacks, ReliefAid’s Gaza Appeal is doing amazing work and I urge you to support them if you can.