MINCE!

Welcome to a new section of the Grimoire dedicated to ground beef, or as the rest of the civilized world calls it, beef mince. This won’t be a parade of recipes involving hamburger helper and taco seasoning packets. This is about understanding what happens when you take a quality piece of beef, reduce it to its component parts, and rebuild it into something either sublime or profoundly disappointing, depending on your commitment to technique.

Let’s address the elephant in the butcher shop: most people have a complicated relationship with ground beef. It’s simultaneously the most accessible and most abused protein in the Western kitchen. It’s cheap, it’s versatile, it cooks quickly, and it hides a multitude of sins. That last part is precisely the problem.

The Case for Grinding Your Own

I’ve stated this position before in the Salisbury Steak entry, and I’ll restate it here because repetition breeds comprehension: grind your own beef. Store-bought ground beef is produced from trimmings. Does one know what cuts those trimmings came from? When they were trimmed? How many different animals contributed to that pound of mystery meat sitting under plastic wrap? The answer is no, one does not know, and that ignorance should concern anyone who cares about what goes into their body.

By grinding your own, you control three critical variables:

1. Quality of source meat – You select the cut. You know its provenance. You can see the marbling, assess the color, determine freshness.
2. Fat percentage – Chuck roast naturally tends toward the ideal 80/20 ratio. Short rib gives you richer, fattier mince. Round provides leaner results. You can blend cuts to achieve any ratio you desire, rather than accepting whatever the supermarket decides is “lean” or “extra lean.”
3. Freshness and safety – You grind it when you need it. No sitting in a cooler for days. No wondering about cross-contamination in industrial grinders processing thousands of pounds daily.

The process itself is absurdly simple, as I’ve outlined previously:

• Clean everything (hands, knives, cutting board, food processor) before you start
• Cube your beef to one-inch chunks
• Spread on a sheet pan and freeze for thirty minutes
• Pulse in a food processor in one-second bursts, checking after each pulse
• Control the grind size for your intended use:
  • Very coarse (10-15 pulses) – for chili, tartare, or when you want distinct texture
  • Medium (15-20 pulses) – for burgers and the like, where you want some bite
  • Fine (20-25 pulses) – for sauces, meatballs, dumplings, anything requiring cohesion
• Don’t overcrowd the food processor; work in batches if needed
• Clean everything after

That’s it. Twenty minutes of effort buys you complete control over a foundational ingredient and the exact texture you need for the dish you’re making.

The Economics of Quality Ground Beef

Here’s where it gets interesting for those operating on budgets tighter than a banjo string. Quality ground beef, when you make it yourself, can be more cost-effective than buying pre-ground, and dramatically cheaper than purchasing premium ground beef products.

A chuck roast on sale runs $4-6 per pound in most markets. That same roast, already ground and labeled “80/20 ground chuck,” costs $6-8 per pound. The markup is pure convenience tax. If you’re buying “grass-fed organic ground beef” at $12-15 per pound, you’re paying even more for someone else to push meat through a grinder.

But the real savings emerge when you consider value cuts. A whole beef brisket point, when marked down for clearance, can drop as low as $3-4 per pound in some markets, though availability varies by region. Grind that, and you have exceptional beef mince at a fraction of retail ground beef prices. Short ribs on sale, meat trimmed from a whole ribeye you’re preparing for a special dinner, even well-marbled stew meat can be transformed into superior ground beef at significant savings.

The secret is buying on sale, buying in bulk when prices drop, and maintaining a modest freezer reserve. Grind what you need, freeze the rest in portions. You’re eating better meat for less money. This isn’t culinary elitism; this is practical home economics wrapped in better technique.

Beyond the financial advantages, there’s an even more compelling reason to control your ground beef source: nutrition.

The Health Argument

Now, let’s discuss what nobody wants to acknowledge: ground beef can be extraordinarily good for you, provided you’re not buying the cheapest possible product and cooking it into gray, desiccated pucks.

Protein density – Beef delivers complete protein with all nine essential amino acids your body actually needs. An 80/20 blend? Twenty grams of usable protein per three-ounce serving. Not soy isolate that requires a chemistry degree to digest, actual protein your muscles can use.

Nutrient concentration – Beef contains heme iron, the most bioavailable form, critical for oxygen transport and cognitive function. It provides B12, which you cannot obtain from plant sources without supplementation. It contains zinc, selenium, and conjugated linoleic acid (CLA), which has shown potential benefits for metabolic health.

Fat isn’t the enemy – The blanket demonization of saturated fat has been challenged by recent research showing a more nuanced picture than previously understood. The fat in properly raised beef provides energy, supports hormone production, enables absorption of fat-soluble vitamins (A, D, E, K), and contributes to satiety. An 80/20 ratio provides enough fat for flavor and cooking properties without tipping into excess.

The key variables are source and preparation. Beef from animals raised on proper feed, not pumped full of antibiotics and hormones, provides superior nutritional value. Cooking methods that preserve moisture and don’t char the exterior into carcinogens make a significant difference. And portion control is essential, though that applies to literally every food.

The problem isn’t ground beef. The problem is industrial food systems producing inferior products and home cooks who treat beef as disposable fuel rather than a nutritionally dense food worthy of proper handling.

Which is why steak tartare is significant: it forces complete accountability. You cannot hide inferior beef, questionable handling, or compromised freshness in a dish served raw. It’s the ultimate honesty test.

Enter Steak Tartare: The Ultimate Expression

Steak tartare is ground beef in its purest, most uncompromising form. No heat to hide behind. No seasoning to mask inferior quality. No cooking process to provide safety margin for questionable meat. This is raw beef, hand-chopped or coarsely ground, seasoned with precision, and served with the confidence that comes from knowing exactly what you’re eating.

This is not a recipe for store-bought ground beef sitting in your refrigerator for three days. You don’t make this with mystery meat of unknown origin. This is the reason you grind your own beef from a pristine cut, immediately before preparation.

The Fundamentals of Steak Tartare

The French classical preparation involves beef tenderloin, though high-quality sirloin performs admirably and costs less. You want a cut with fine texture, slight connective tissue, and enough marbling for flavor without excessive fat. Freezing the meat for 30 minutes before chopping firms it enough for clean knife work without turning it into a frozen block.

The classic seasoning profile includes capers (for brine and acidity), shallots or red onion (finely minced for aromatic punch), Dijon mustard (emulsification and heat), egg yolk (richness and silky texture, either mixed in or served on top for dramatic presentation), Worcestershire sauce (umami depth), hot sauce (optional heat), and salt and pepper to taste. Variations include cornichons, anchovy paste, or cognac. The variations are endless, but the principle remains: season to complement the beef, not overwhelm it.

The ratio is critical. For one pound of beef, you’re looking at one egg yolk, two tablespoons minced shallot, one tablespoon capers (rinsed and chopped), one tablespoon Dijon, a teaspoon of Worcestershire, and seasoning to taste. Mix gently. The beef should remain distinct, not transformed into paste.

Presentation determines first impressions. Traditionally formed into a mound with a depression on top to hold the egg yolk, though modern preparations often portion into individual servings. Serve with toast points, crackers, or thin-sliced baguette. The bread is structural; it exists to deliver the tartare to your mouth, not to be the focus.

Before We Go Further: The Safety Question

The safety question always comes up, so here’s the answer: yes, raw beef carries risk. So does driving to the grocery store.

Let’s address it directly. Eating raw beef carries risk. That risk is minimal when you follow proper protocols.

First, source is critical. Buy from a reputable butcher. Select a whole muscle cut, not pre-ground meat. Grind it yourself immediately before use. The danger in ground beef comes from surface contamination being distributed throughout the product during grinding. With a whole muscle, the exterior can be seared or trimmed away, leaving the interior sterile.

Second, temperature control is essential. Keep everything cold. Thirty minutes in the freezer before grinding is ideal. Work quickly. Serve immediately. Don’t let the prepared tartare sit at room temperature.

Third, freshness determines safety. Use the beef the day you purchase it. Don’t use meat that’s been sitting in your refrigerator for days.

Fourth, know your audience. Don’t serve this to people with compromised immune systems, pregnant women, young children, or anyone who reacts to “raw beef” with visible horror. This is a dish for adults with functioning immune systems who understand and accept the minimal risk involved.

The risk isn’t zero. Nothing in life is zero risk. But if you’re willing to eat sushi, oysters, or rare steak, the risk profile of properly prepared steak tartare is comparable when properly sourced and handled.

Now that we’ve addressed the elephant in the room, let’s discuss what transforms competent tartare into exceptional tartare: how you choose to finish, garnish, and accompany it.

Condiments and Accompaniments: Building the Experience

Steak tartare is rarely served naked. The proper accompaniments transform it from a pile of seasoned raw beef into a complete sensory experience. These condiments offer contrast, brightness, heat, and textural variation that elevate the dish beyond its humble components.

Essential Elements

Horseradish – Fresh grated horseradish is non-negotiable. Not the cream sauce from a jar, though that suffices in desperate times. Actual fresh horseradish root, grated fine, cuts through the richness of the beef and egg yolk with sinus-clearing heat. The volatile compounds in fresh horseradish are significantly more potent than prepared versions. You get that immediate nasal burn that wakes up your palate. Start with one teaspoon mixed directly into the tartare, adjust to your suffering threshold, or serve on the side for those who prefer control over their pain.

Prepared horseradish (the kind preserved in vinegar) offers milder heat and longer shelf life. If using prepared, drain excess liquid and add conservatively. You want heat, not soup. Start with two teaspoons, taste, adjust.

Citrus – A squeeze of fresh lemon or lime juice brightens and balances the fatty richness. Lemon is traditional in French preparations, offering clean, sharp acidity. Lime suits more aggressive flavor profiles. The acid also serves a practical purpose: it denatures proteins slightly, giving the mixture better cohesion and mouthfeel. Use the juice of half a lemon per pound of beef, adjust to taste.

Consider incorporating citrus zest for aromatic oils. Use a microplane and exercise restraint; you want the essential oils, not bitter pith. A quarter teaspoon of lemon zest per pound adds complexity. Lime zest belongs in preparations with jalapeño or other heat elements.

Dijon Mustard – Already mentioned in the base recipe, but worth emphasizing. Dijon emulsifies (helping bind the egg yolk to the beef), contributes fermented complexity, and delivers mild heat without overpowering. Whole grain mustard offers textural interest for rustic presentations. Avoid yellow mustard unless you’re deliberately trying to ruin something elegant.

Capers and Cornichons – Both bring briny, acidic contrast. Capers are smaller, more intensely flavored, with a floral quality from the caper bud itself. Rinse them to remove excess salt, then chop fine and fold into the mixture. One tablespoon per pound of beef is the starting point.

Cornichons (small French pickles) offer crunch and vinegar tang. Dice them fine and use judiciously; they should accent, not dominate. Two tablespoons finely diced per pound. Some prefer to serve cornichons whole on the side, allowing diners to alternate bites of rich tartare with sharp, acidic pickle.

Fresh Herbs – Parsley is traditional in French preparations, offering color and mild, grassy freshness that doesn’t compete with the beef. Chop it fine and fold it in, or use as garnish. Two tablespoons per pound. Chives deliver mild onion flavor and visual appeal when snipped over the top. Tarragon brings anise notes that complement beef surprisingly well; use half a tablespoon per pound, as it’s aggressive.

Avoid cilantro unless you’re deliberately steering the preparation toward Asian or Latin American flavor profiles. At that point you’re making something else entirely, which is fine, but call it what it is.

Optional Additions and Variations

Anchovies – Controversial but traditional in some French preparations. Anchovies deepen umami without fishiness when incorporated correctly. Use one or two fillets, minced to paste, folded into the beef mixture. If anyone can taste “fish,” you used too much. Properly incorporated, anchovies just make the beef taste more intensely like beef.

Hot Sauce or Fresh Chilies – Tabasco is traditional, delivering vinegar heat without texture. Three to five dashes wake up the palate without overwhelming the beef. Fresh jalapeño or serrano, minced fine, contributes vegetal notes with more aggressive heat. One tablespoon minced jalapeño per pound, seeds removed unless you’re looking for punishment.

Sambal oelek or gochugaru take the preparation in an Asian direction. Again, that’s a legitimate variation, but understand you’re diverging from classical preparation.

Shallots vs. Red Onion vs. White Onion – Shallots are traditional in French preparations for good reason: they’re milder than regular onions, subtly sweet, and less sulfuric. Mince them extremely fine; you want tiny flavor bombs, not chunks. Two tablespoons per pound.

Red onion substitutes when shallots aren’t available, offering more bite and visual contrast with its purple color. Soak minced red onion in cold water for 10 minutes to mellow the harshness, then drain and pat dry before using.

White or yellow onion is too aggressive for most palates when served raw in this context. If that’s all you have, use it, but understand it will dominate the flavor profile.

Egg Yolk – The egg yolk isn’t just seasoning; it’s the soul of the dish. It enriches, provides silky texture, and acts as a binder. Use the freshest eggs you can source. The yolk should be bright orange-yellow, not pale. Free-range or pasture-raised eggs have superior flavor and color.

French classical preparation typically serves the yolk on top, allowing the diner to break it and stir it in themselves. Modern preparations often mix it in. The former is more dramatic; the latter is more practical. Both are correct.

Finishing Touches – A drizzle of high-quality olive oil adds fruity richness. One teaspoon per serving. Flaky sea salt (Maldon or similar) offers textural contrast and bright salinity. Freshly cracked black pepper is mandatory; use enough to see it.

Some modern preparations add truffle oil (use real truffle oil, not the synthetic abomination), though this walks a dangerous line between elevation and pretension. If you use truffle oil, exercise extreme restraint. One or two drops per serving, maximum. More than that and you’re just showing off.

What to Serve Alongside

Beyond the condiments mixed into or served with the tartare itself, consider accompaniments:

Toast points or crostini – Thin-sliced baguette, toasted until golden and crispy. The bread should be sturdy enough to hold the tartare without collapsing but thin enough not to overwhelm. Cut on the diagonal, brush with olive oil, toast at 375°F until golden, about 8 minutes.

Belgian frites – Traditional accompaniment in French bistros. The contrast of crispy, hot fries with cold, silky tartare succeeds better than it has any right to. Twice-fried in beef tallow if you’re doing it properly.

Pickled vegetables – Beyond cornichons, consider pickled shallots, radishes, or cauliflower. The acid and crunch offer palate-cleansing relief between bites.

Mustard selection – Offer multiple mustards: Dijon, whole grain, spicy brown, and English. Let diners customize heat and flavor to their preference.

Arugula or watercress salad – Bitter greens dressed simply with lemon and olive oil offer fresh, peppery contrast. Keep the salad spare; you’re not building a composed salad, you’re offering textural relief.

The goal with all accompaniments is balance: richness offset by acid, fat cut by heat, smooth contrasted with crunchy. The beef is the star; everything else exists in supporting roles.

Why This Dish Matters

Steak tartare represents everything this section is about: respect for the ingredient, commitment to quality, understanding that ground beef isn’t just a vehicle for taco seasoning but a legitimate preparation worthy of attention and technique.

If your ground beef isn’t good enough to eat raw, it’s not good enough. That should inform every decision you make about sourcing, handling, and preparation, whether you’re making tartare, burgers, meatballs, or Salisbury steak.

This is the standard. Everything else is variation on a theme.

What’s Coming

This section will explore the full range of ground beef preparations, from the elegant to the aggressively unpretentious. We’ll cover proper burger technique, meatball variations across multiple cuisines, the intricacies of meat sauce, and dishes that deserve rescue from 1950s church cookbooks.

But we start here, with tartare, because if you understand why this dish succeeds and what it demands, everything else becomes easier. The fundamentals don’t change. Quality in, quality out. Respect the ingredient. Master the technique. The rest is just details.

Welcome to the section. Grind your own beef. You’ll never go back.