Raw beef isn't for everyone. I get that. But if you’re reading this, you’ve likely sat in a dimly lit French bistro, watched a server mix a yolk into a mound of ruby-red steak, and realized it’s actually the most honest way to eat.
There is no hiding here. No grill marks to mask a mediocre cut. No heavy sauces to drown out the iron-rich soul of the animal. Making a steak tartare recipe at home is basically an exercise in trust—trust in your purveyor, trust in your knife skills, and trust in the fact that simple ingredients, when treated with respect, are unbeatable.
People freak out about the safety. Honestly, I don't blame them. We’ve been conditioned to fear pink chicken and undercooked burgers, but steak tartare is different. It’s about surface area. When you sear a steak, you’re killing bacteria on the outside. When you grind beef in a factory, you’re mixing that outside bacteria into the whole batch. That’s why you never, ever use pre-ground supermarket beef for this. You buy a whole muscle, you trim the exterior, and you hand-chop it.
That is the secret.
The Meat: Why Filet Mignon is Actually Kind of Boring
Most people reach for filet mignon when they look for a steak tartare recipe. It’s soft. It’s expensive. It feels "safe." But if you talk to guys like Fergus Henderson or the late Anthony Bourdain, they’d tell you that filet lacks the punch you need. It’s lean, sure, but it’s also a bit flavorless compared to other cuts.
If you want the best result, look for Top Round or even a well-trimmed Sirloin Tip. These muscles worked harder than the tenderloin. They have a deeper, more mineral-forward taste that stands up to the acidity of capers and mustard. You want something lean, obviously. Fat doesn't render when it's cold, so a highly marbled Wagyu is actually a terrible choice for tartare—it just feels like eating cold butter, which is greasy and unappealing.
You need to find a butcher you actually like. Ask them for the freshest eye of round or beef heart if you're feeling adventurous. Tell them you're making tartare. A good butcher will point you toward the freshest arrival that hasn't been sitting in a display case for three days.
The Gear and the Chill
Put your bowl in the freezer. Seriously.
Keeping everything cold is the difference between a bright, clean dish and a mushy, grey mess. You want the beef to stay around 38°F (about 3°C) throughout the entire process. I usually put my knife and my cutting board in the fridge for twenty minutes before I start.
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You need a sharp knife. Not "sorta sharp." I mean "shave-your-arm" sharp. If your knife is dull, you aren't cutting the beef; you're crushing the cell walls and squeezing out the juices. That leads to a puddle on the plate. We want distinct, tiny cubes that hold their shape.
Breaking Down the "Standard" Steak Tartare Recipe
The classic Parisian preparation is a baseline, not a law. You’ve seen the ingredients: egg yolk, Dijon, capers, shallots, parsley, and maybe a dash of Worcestershire or Tabasco.
Here is how you actually put it together for two people:
The Foundation
Get about 10 ounces of your chosen beef. Trim every single bit of silver skin and gristle. If it’s tough, it’s gone. Slice the beef into thin sheets, then matchsticks, then tiny cubes. Don't use a food processor. I’ve seen people try it, and it turns the beef into a paste that looks like cat food.
The Binder
In that chilled bowl, whisk one fresh egg yolk with a teaspoon of high-quality Dijon mustard. I like Maille or Amora if you can find it. Add a splash of extra virgin olive oil. This creates a loose emulsion that coats the beef rather than soaking into it.
The Texture
Finely mince one shallot. It should be almost a powder. You want the flavor, not a crunch like you're eating a raw onion. Add a tablespoon of non-pareil capers (the tiny ones) and two or three chopped cornichons. These provide the acid. Without acid, the fat in the beef and yolk feels heavy.
The Seasoning
A few shakes of Worcestershire sauce and a drop of hot sauce. Use Maldon sea salt or another flaky salt at the very end. If you salt the meat too early, it starts to "cook" in the salt and changes color.
Why Everyone Forgets the Texture Contrast
A steak tartare recipe isn't just about the bowl. It's about what you put it on.
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I’ve been to restaurants where they serve it with soggy fries. It’s a tragedy. You need something loud. Toasted sourdough rubbed with a raw garlic clove is the gold standard. The crunch of the bread should be the first thing you hear, followed by the silkiness of the beef.
Some people use gaufrette potatoes (those waffle-cut chips). They’re fine, but they often break under the weight of a proper scoop. If you want to be different, try thin slices of chilled daikon radish. It adds a peppery snap that cuts through the richness without the heavy carbs of bread.
Addressing the Raw Egg Question
I get asked this every time I make this for friends: "Am I going to get sick?"
Statistics from the CDC suggest that about 1 in every 20,000 eggs contains salmonella. If you’re worried, use pasteurized eggs or just omit the yolk and use a little more mustard and oil for creaminess. But honestly? The yolk is the glue. It provides a richness that you just can't replicate. If you're really paranoid, you can "coddle" the egg by dropping it in boiling water for 30 seconds before cracking it. It won't cook the yolk, but it kills anything on the shell.
Variations That Actually Work
Once you master the classic, you start realizing that beef is a canvas.
The Italians do Battuta di Carne, which is often much simpler—just lemon juice, high-end olive oil, and maybe some shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano or truffles. It’s lighter. It’s less about the "sauce" and entirely about the quality of the cow.
In Korea, Yukhoe is the way to go. You swap the mustard for toasted sesame oil and the capers for julienned Korean pear. The sweetness of the pear with the nuttiness of the sesame is a revelation. They usually top it with pine nuts for a different kind of fatty crunch.
Common Mistakes You’re Probably Making
- Too much stuff: Don't let the mix-ins outweigh the beef. You’re making steak tartare, not a beef-flavored salad.
- Cutting too large: If the chunks are too big, it’s chewy and unpleasant. Aim for 1/8-inch cubes.
- Ignoring the temperature: If the meat gets to room temp while you're dicing, it loses its vibrant red color and turns a dull, unappetizing brown.
- Over-mixing: Fold the ingredients together gently. You want to see the components, not create a uniform pink blob.
The Actionable Step-by-Step
If you're going to do this tonight, follow this exact order.
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First, go to a real butcher. Don't go to a big-box grocery store. Ask for 12 ounces of lean top round or tenderloin. Tell them it’s for tartare so they give you a fresh piece from the back.
When you get home, wrap the meat in plastic wrap and put it in the freezer for about 20-30 minutes. You don't want to freeze it solid; you just want it firm. This makes dicing ten times easier. While that’s chilling, mince your shallots, capers, and parsley.
Toast your bread. Make it harder than you think it needs to be.
Take the meat out, dice it with your sharpest knife, and toss it into a cold bowl. Add your yolk, mustard, acid, and aromatics. Stir it quickly, season with salt and pepper at the last second, and plate it immediately.
Eat it right away. This isn't a dish that sits well. It’s a moment in time.
The complexity of a great steak tartare recipe isn't in the list of ingredients, but in the temperature and the texture. It’s a dish that rewards the meticulous. If you're sloppy with your knife, it shows. If your meat is cheap, it shows. But if you get it right, it’s one of the most sophisticated things you can ever put on a table.
To take this to the next level, try making your own mustard. Most store-bought stuff is loaded with preservatives that can have a metallic aftertaste when paired with raw beef. Soaking mustard seeds in verjus or white wine overnight and then grinding them yourself adds a layer of craft that most restaurants won't even bother with. It's those little details that move a dish from "good" to "I need the recipe for this."