Steak is a part of the same sanguine mythology as wine. It is the
heart of meat, it is meat in its pure state; and whoever partakes of it
assimilates a bull-like strength. The prestige of steak evidently
derives from its quasi-rawness. In it, blood is visible, natural,
dense, at once compact and sectile. One can well imagine the
ambrosia of the Ancients as this kind of heavy substance which
dwindles under one's teeth in such a way as to make one keenly
aware at the same time of its original strength and of its aptitude to
flow into the very blood of man. Full-bloodedness is the raison
d'.tre of steak; the degrees to which it is cooked are expressed not
in calorific units but in images of blood; rare steak is said to be
saignant (when it recalls the arterial flow from the cut in the
animal's throat), or bleu (and it is now the heavy, plethoric, blood
of the veins which is suggested by the purplish colour - the
superlative of redness). Its cooking, even moderate, cannot openly
find expression; for this unnatural state, a euphemism is needed:
one says that steak is . point, 'medium', and this in truth is
understood more as a limit than as a perfection.