My steaks are spectacularly inconsistent. They vary anywhere from being more leathery than a California blonde with a tanning salon punch card to being redder and rawer than runners’ chafe. If I’ve cooked for you, you should feel proud that you survived a double-blind round of Russian roulette featuring a dozen different known carcinogens, E. Coli, and occasional shrapnel from failed kebab skewers. I must say though, that after years of keeping at it, I’ve become adept at covering up for suspect steak by always exuding the aura of a consummate grill-master while convincing my sous chefs and dinner guests that the variability of their fare was entirely their fault.

However, after a recent bout of violent involuntary multi-orifice cleansing, I did some extensive online research on the subject and am now, theoretically, far more capable of cooking the perfect steak. Following are the lessons I’ve learned:

1. Love Me Tender

Think of a great steak as a constant war between fat and protein, good and evil. The fat molecules are little ambrosia-filled Tetra Paks of flavor. They taste fantastic, and make the steak tender and unctuous. The protein on the other hand is like that psychotic ex-girlfriend, just hanging around, waiting to be treated poorly so that it can ruin your meal. On its own, it doesn’t taste of much. But too much heat, and it makes the steak rubbery. A minute too long on the grill and it causes your steak to change color to an ugly dull gray. Too much exercise when it was still attached to the cow, and it gets tougher than trigonometry. Make sure that the steak you pick has some amount of fat marbling throughout the steak as opposed to just having a thick lining on the outside (New York Strip) or worst of all, no fat at all like with filet mignon. When in doubt, get a Rib-Eye. If you’ve ever wondered why the Greek are fantastic at grilling meat, realize that they come from a deep tradition of respecting marbling. Also remember to get a thick steak, at least 1.5 inches. Aside from being more forgiving of temperature vagaries, it also just ensures you’re eating a nice big steak. You also need to decide if you want steak that’s fresh off a cow, or the more expensive dry-aged steak that’s locked away in a humidity controlled environment for a long time before being sold. Ageing allows enzymes in the meat to break down connective tissue and make the meat tender. It also gets rid of about 30% of its moisture content, concentrating the flavors, and giving you more steak for your buck. As Joan Rivers’ husband once said, “If you can afford it, that dry aged cow is fantastic.”

2. Never Trust a Palm Reading

Professional grill-masters claim that you can judge the done-ness of meat by comparing its firmness to parts of your palm. Under your thumb is medium, and the soft part between your index finger and thumb is rare. It started out being a broader set of firmness comparators across the human body, but the FDA chose to stick with parts of the palm in all cooking literature amidst fear of litigation from people eating under-cooked chicken breast and overcooked pork loin. In any case, firmness comparisons are terrible ways to judge when your steak comes off the grill, especially if your palm’s dimensions/fleshiness aren’t within the FDA’s approved range. Just buy a reliable meat thermometer.

3. The First Cut is the Deepest

Feel free to go all medieval knight on your steak with the thermometer as you repeatedly stab Sir Loin in the heart as he lies dying on the battlefield of your grill. Grill snobs will claim that puncturing your steak with the thermometer needle multiple times will dry out the meat as all the fluid escapes. Sneer superciliously at their ignorance. A steak is not like a single water balloon that bursts if you puncture the skin. The cellular structure of a slab of meat is more similar to a million water balloons all packed into a room. Your knightly lance will just pop a few inconsequential blood vassals.

4. I Love You as Meat Loves Salt

Be leery of people telling you to go easy on the salt when it comes to grilling. Rub in a generous amount of koshering salt onto your steak and let it sit for a minimum of 45 minutes. For the first 20 to 30 minutes after you put salt on a steak, the salt sucks water out of the meat. If you remember your high school chemistry, this is just good old osmosis, where water tends to sneak its way across porous walls to go party on the side where there are more ions to play with. As a result, at the thirty minute mark, you’ll notice the steak look all clammy and sweaty. This is the absolute worst time to throw the steak on the grill as the water quickly burns off leaving you with tough, dry steak. But about 45 minutes in, the salt dissolves in the moisture forming a thick brine that breaks down the proteins in the steak. After being assaulted by brine, the protein strands are less hostile to water molecules and in an oddly scientific sense, no longer have their knickers in a knot. The meat cells reabsorb all the water they gave up, and also hoard all the extra moisture they can find. With the cells clutching tightly to their water molecules like Fox News anchors to their right-wing agenda, they’re ready to be thrown into the fire.

5. The Longest Ten Minutes of Your Life

As it turns out, digging into your steak the minute it hits 125F in the middle is unpardonable. A sin of the flesh. While on the grill, the outer parts of the steak dry up a lot more than the inside parts as they’re closer to the heat source. By letting the steak sit for about ten minutes after it comes off the grill, you allow the moisture in the center of the steak to redistribute itself through the entirety of the steak.

If you see big pools of steak juice in your plate when you cut into it, you didn’t wait long enough for the moisture to be reabsorbed. Of course, you can speed up the process a smidge by rehydrating the outside of the steak with your briny tears as you cry in anguish over the agonizing wait.

And that’s everything you need to know about grilling a viable steak. Now that I’ve shared my newly acquired grilling secrets, I would appreciate if you stayed classy and made no further mention of your unwitting participation in Russian roulette, the cost of your tapeworm medication, or otherwise injected your negative energy into my propane grill. If you end up getting imperfect steak from me, just understand that your literal and figurative belly-aching is the reason why you can’t have nice things.