Reverse-Searing: Let’s talk about it

The ebb and flow of trendy cooking topics never ceases to enthrall me. Such remains the case when it comes to a topic that currently seems to be of public interest: the alternative meat cookery method referred to as reverse-searing. Before we get into my personal commentary on the issue, let’s start with establishing what it is. Wait. Actually, let’s start with explaining its more traditional alternative.

Historically, the method of cooking a large piece of meat has gone (vaguely) as follows: start with a pot or high-sided roasting pan over high heat. Add a high-heat cooking oil and sear your large piece of meat to achieve a nice hard sear on all sides. Then, you cook it to completion in some sort of enclosed heated chamber (be it an oven or a lidded rondeau on stove-top).

It’s worth also mentioning “oven-finishing” — a similar and likewise common technique to which reverse-searing has emerged as a popular alternative. Usually done with a thicker steak, this is a technique where you start off by searing a steak on both sides, then put it (and the pan) in the oven until it reaches the desired internal temperature. It’s basically the same thing as the first method discussed, just for a piece of meat that’s meant to be cooked to a specific internal temperature, rather than a point where the temperature isn’t as important as the desired texture, as tends to be the case with roasting or braising.

Reverse-searing is the technique of executing either of these methods backwards, whereby the piece of meat in question is first cooked in the oven, then seared in a pan as the final step.

Now is where I’d generally talk about the pros and cons of this technique, and the merits of each perspective of using it vs. the more traditional alternatives. Unfortunately, I can’t for the life of me think of any ‘pros’ to reverse searing.

If we’re going to talk about searing (at least when it comes to meat), we need to first mention — nay, explore the Maillard reaction. Glossing over a chemical description well above what I’m qualified to discuss, the Maillard reaction is basically what happens when water is rapidly removed (evaporated) from the surface of a piece of protein, and a high level of heat (upwards of 280ºF) causes interaction between the inherent microscopic sugars and proteins resulting in a change of color, flavor, texture, and aroma. In short, it’s when you cook something with contact heat and the affected surface gets golden brown (or sometimes burnt/charred). While this can (and does) occur on things like french fries, coffee beans, and baked goods, the Maillard reaction is arguably most prevalent on the surface of grilled or seared meats/animal proteins.

While not essential, physical contact with a hot surface is the most reliable way to induce the Maillard reaction. This is no more apparent than it is when looking at the marks left on a piece of meat having just left a grill. The dark lines where the meat was in contact with the hot metal are evidence of the Maillard reaction occurring there, and not a millimeter away, where only the heat from the flames made contact, resulting in a starkly different-colored (and flavored) surface. So, let’s just simplify it for the sake of this explanation, and say that contact with a hot surface is what’s generally needed for a good Maillard reaction — AKA: a good sear.

Given its importance to good flavor, let’s talk about the sear: it’s what imparts the rich, complex flavor of a well-prepared piece of meat. While it is possible to get a sear on something through prolonged exposure to high indirect heat but without physical contact with a hot surface (basically roasting something to the point where it gets nice color on it), it does take either a good deal of time or an extremely high heat to do so.

Color attained during a cooking process generally equates to enriched flavor of the end result. Caramelization of produce, the Maillard reaction in protein — hell, even the brule on the top of particular desserts; they all are vital to creating a maximum amount of flavor. Once established, this flavor doesn’t remain confined solely to the caramelized mass. In the event of a braise or a stew, the flavor of a seared piece of meat permeates into the liquid in which the meat will continue to cook, essentially flavoring itself throughout. In the event of a grilled piece of meat, it’s not just the surface that gives you the flavor of flame-kissed protein: the flavor of the charred exterior will gently work its way inward to infiltrate the mass of meat beneath the surfaces, imparting the unique flavor throughout a grilled piece of meat.

Establishing a good, flavorful sear as early on in the meat-cooking process is a bedrock principle of proper meat-cookery. And no, it doesn’t “lock in the juices”. While cooking meat does indeed tighten up the protein molecules comprising it (same principle that occurs when eggs become firm when they’re cooked), there is still more than enough space (molecularly speaking) for moisture to pass through the seared crust. However, the sooner you can create the seared crust, the more time there is for the resulting, coveted flavor to settle into the substance below the surface.

Coming back to the topic at hand, with reverse searing, you’re robbing the piece of meat in question of this opportunity to develop that deeper, richer flavor throughout its cooking process.

Well then, perhaps there’s a practical benefit? Maybe roasting something first allows you more control over the temperature to which a piece of meat will be cooked? Not so much, as it turns out.

Every piece of meat or protein is meant to be cooked to a specific, target temperature regardless of the cooking method. Separately, any type of heat applied to the exterior will effectively be retained by that exterior, and functionally continue to cook the meat inward, to an extent depending on the severity of the heat. This is a phenomenon known in the cooking world as “carry-over”. To explore this further, let’s look at the path to hitting a target internal temp. for each of these two methods, using the roasting of a section of pork loin as a hypothetical:

The conventional method goes as follows: Sear the pork loin on each side to your satisfaction. Put in the oven in either a roasting pan or on a rack — it doesn’t matter. You monitor the temperature as the expected time to finish approaches, and ideally you pull the pork loin at 140ºF — five degrees shy of the 145ºF to which pork is meant to be cooked, as conventional cooking wisdom is that the residual heat of a piece of resting meat will continue to cook (or “carry over”) for an additional five degrees once it’s removed from the heat source. Once this pork loin is rested, it’s done, and should be the perfect temperature.

Reverse sear method: The pork loin goes into the oven, and it’s cooked to… well shit, I don’t know. How many degrees does searing the exterior add to the internal temperature of already cooking pork? What if you’re searing on a slightly different temperature than the model that has that answer? Would the thickness of the meat in question not also have an effect on this analysis? Not to mention the fact that cooking meat causes it to release moisture — moisture that would inhibit the ability to develop a good sear once it’s put onto a hot surface for the second phase of the reverse searing process. Also, once you sear it to finish, do you still need to let it rest? If so, for how long?

Searing requires high surface heat at a temperature that is undoubtedly higher than the temperature of whatever oven it was taken from. Therefore, you’re introducing the more aggressive exterial thermal treatment to the meat as it’s closest to its end point. This is tantamount to accelerating your car just as you approach a stop sign. I think we can all agree that you should rapidly accelerate at the outset, and then cruise or coast to the next point at which you’ll be expected to stop. Meat is exactly the same.

I will begrudgingly mention a technique which is technically reverse searing, communicated to me by an old sous chef of mine: a fillet mignon is sous vide to exactly the temperature you want it. It’s then dipped in liquid nitrogen for 30 seconds, and then transferred to the deep fryer for 30 seconds. The deep frying creates a perfect uniform maillard crust around the exterior, and the liquid nitrogen basically sets up a preemptive shield to mitigate the frying from actually cooking the interior any further. While this is a really fun way to cook a steak, I hope we can all admit that it’s not something any of us are doing at home any time soon, and it’s generally something even a molecular gastronomy-inclined chef would only do for a special menu.

By this point of exploration of this topic, I’m only left to conclude that reverse searing is another in a long list of food trends that fall under the Ian Malcom (Jurassic Park) doctorin, that you were so focused on discovering you could do something that you never stopped to think if you should. Reverse searing is indeed a fun little twist on a time-tested classic technique. However, as fun as it is to be able to change classics, in this case we should probably treat this standard practice like a finished piece of meat, and let it rest.