Steakhouse Creamed Spinach

Every great steakhouse understands that the sides carry equal weight. A porterhouse needs a worthy companion, and creamed spinach has held that position of honor since the days when waiters in starched white jackets served from gleaming silver bowls. This is not health food. This is celebration food.

The technique requires attention to one critical detail: water is the enemy of cream sauce. Fresh spinach releases enough liquid to drown your careful work if you're not vigilant. You'll blanch the leaves briefly, shock them cold, then squeeze every drop of moisture from the wilted greens before they meet the cream. Skip this step and you'll serve soup.

I learned this version from a chef who'd spent thirty years at one of those Manhattan steakhouses where the creamed spinach arrived bubbling in individual gratin dishes. His secret was a touch of cream cheese stirred in at the end, adding body and a subtle tang that keeps the richness from becoming cloying. Once you taste it, you'll never go back to the flour-thickened versions that coat your mouth like wallpaper paste.