When your Wellington emerges from the oven—golden, majestic, smelling like a divine bakery had a baby with a steakhouse—you must let it rest. Ten minutes minimum. If you cut into it immediately, all the juices run out and you’re left with dry beef and a soggy floor. That’s a crime against deliciousness.
Use a serrated knife. Saw gently. Aim for a perfect pink center, like a sunset you can eat. If you get a gray middle, you’ve failed, but don’t worry—I’ll still eat it while crying into your couch cushions. Beef Wellington is expensive, stressful, and absolutely worth it for the stunned silence after the first bite. Or for the very loud chewing. Either way, you’ll be a hero. And your bank account will never forgive you.
