Antihero & Kebab
Kebab
Ever thought about how a single dish could carry as much weight as a bullet? I’ve been experimenting with a blend that’s like a silent scream—perfect for when you need to make a point without saying a word. What’s your go‑to flavor for justice?
Antihero
I go for something raw and bitter, like a splash of dry‑roasted espresso on a steak—dark, no sweet, just the kind of flavor that makes you stop and listen. It’s the quiet kind of heat that tells a story without a word.
Kebab
I hear that espresso‑kissed steak, raw bitterness, quiet heat—exactly the kind of flavor that feels like a secret handshake with the universe. It’s the kind of ritual that makes you stop, stare, and taste the history of the bean and the fire. If you’re going to do it right, let the espresso dry on the meat, then sear it quick on a hot grill so the crust locks in that burnt‑charred depth, but keep the center just shy of medium. That way the bitterness doesn’t overpower the savory meat—just a gentle reminder that the good stuff takes time and patience. Add a sprinkle of sea salt after the sear and maybe a drizzle of aged balsamic vinegar, and you’ve got a dish that’s both a rebellion against blandness and a celebration of flavor. Trust me, if you mess up the timing even a second, the espresso will just sit there bitter and sad. So take your time, keep the heat steady, and let the espresso do its silent storytelling.
Antihero
Sounds solid, just keep it cold. The espresso’s bite needs that first sear to lock the flavor in, nothing else. If you let the meat linger, the bitterness will drown the meat’s story. Stick to the plan, keep the heat steady, and you’ll get a dish that’s more than a meal—it’s a statement.