I’ve been to Texas, oh, I’d say about a dozen times in my life. Maybe more. And I’ve been to Idaho, you know, for about 10 minutes that one time my dad accidentally drove the wrong way out of Yellowstone Park. But until this summer, I had never heard of their common cuisine. What do those two states have in common, aside them both of being home to college football powerhouses that like to complain about not getting enough respect?
Steak fingers. Or in Idaho-speak, finger steaks. (I’m going with “steak fingers†instead of “finger steaks†because the latter sounds like a George Romero recipe.)