Beyond the Ribeye: Exploring High-Value, Underrated Cuts Like the Teres Major and Bavette

ByStaff

By the Heritage Diner Team

Walk into any steakhouse in America and you’ll find the same liturgy printed in bold: ribeye, filet mignon, New York strip. These cuts have earned their pedestal — no one is arguing against a perfectly seared ribeye with a mahogany crust and a ribbon of fat that pools into the pan like liquid silk. But somewhere between the dominance of premium marketing and the habits of a conditioned dining public, an entire world of extraordinary beef has been quietly dismissed — tucked into less glamorous primal zones, requiring a more skilled hand to butcher and a more curious mind to order.

The teres major and the bavette are two of the most compelling arguments against bovine conformity. They are not consolation prizes. They are not “budget cuts” in the pejorative sense. They are the choices of a cook who knows more, demands more, and ultimately tastes more.

The Teres Major: The Shoulder’s Best-Kept Secret

Buried deep within the chuck section — that same primal the supermarket often reduces to pot roast territory — lives one of the most tender muscles on the entire animal. The teres major, named after the Latin word for “rounded,” runs along the outer border of the scapula and attaches near the humerus. Its function is limited: it performs a short rotation of the shoulder inward, doing relatively modest work compared to the muscles around it. That minimal activity is precisely why, despite its chuck address, it rivals tenderloin in texture.

Only two teres major filets can be harvested per animal, and they weigh less than a pound each — a scarcity that explains why most butchers simply grind them into the anonymous ground beef supply. Porter Road, one of the country’s better online meat purveyors, notes that only about 2 lbs of teres major come from every 1,400 lbs of beef, which makes finding it feel less like grocery shopping and more like a minor treasure hunt.

The teres major is widely considered the second or third most tender cut on the cow, next to tenderloin and ahead of the flat iron, yet it carries far more flavor than a tenderloin because it comes from an active, blood-rich muscle — giving it complex, iron-forward notes reminiscent of hanger steak. The texture is fork-yielding. The taste is unmistakably beef. It’s the kind of cut that makes you question why you’ve been paying tenderloin prices all along.

A persistent culinary legend holds that during the filet mignon price spikes of the 1990s, certain Minneapolis-area chefs quietly swapped teres major onto their menus under the tenderloin name without detection. Whether strictly true or apocryphal, the story carries a persuasive point: when cooked to medium or beyond, the teres major is extraordinarily difficult to distinguish from its more celebrated cousin.

Cooking it demands respect for its delicacy. Trim the silver skin before applying heat. Bring it to room temperature. Sear over intense heat — cast iron preferred — for two to three minutes per side, targeting an internal temperature of 128°F at most. Let it rest for ten minutes tented loosely in foil, and it will coast the rest of the way to a perfect medium-rare. Slice in medallions and finish with a compound butter, a quick pan reduction of shallot and wine, or simply coarse salt and cracked pepper. The meat itself doesn’t ask for much.

Where to find it: call your local butcher a few days ahead and request it by name. Online, Porter Road reliably stocks it. Some Whole Foods carry it intermittently.

The Bavette: France’s Bistro Benchmark

The bavette — literally “bib” in French — comes from the bottom sirloin, positioned near the flank in the abdominal region of the cow. In France, it has never been underrated. It is the canonical bistro cut, the standard-bearer for steak frites at every zinc-countered café from Lyon to Paris, where generations of frugal but sophisticated cooks long ago determined that coarse grain, deep marbling, and big bovine flavor make for a better plate than premium pricing.

The bavette is located below the plate, near the abdominal muscles, and carries a rich beefy flavor comparable to hanger steak. It is similar to flank steak but typically thicker and more heavily marbled with intermuscular fat. That marbling is the crucial distinction. Where flank runs lean and benefits from aggressive marinating, bavette carries its own internal moisture and complexity — it doesn’t need much help.

In France, the full name is bavette d’aloyau, which translates as “bib of the sirloin.” In the United States it is also called flap steak or flap meat, though neither name does justice to the eating experience. It is frequently confused with hanger and skirt — an understandable error given the overlapping textures and preparation methods — but bavette occupies its own anatomical and flavor territory.

The grain is pronounced and long, which means two things: it absorbs marinades spectacularly, and it demands to be sliced thinly across the grain after cooking or the result will be leather. Follow those two rules and you have a steak that punches well above its price class. Cook it hard and fast on a screaming-hot grill or cast iron skillet, targeting medium-rare to medium (125°F–135°F internal). Going past medium will make it tough and chewy; going too rare produces an unpleasant mushy texture. Rest it five to ten minutes, then cut against the grain into thin strips that fan across the plate.

The flavor carries notes of iron, mineral, and something faintly wilder than the more domesticated loin cuts. Pair it with chimichurri, a quick beurre rouge, or simply reduced shallots and good butter. Wagyu bavette, where available, is another dimension entirely.

The Hanger: One Per Animal, Infinite Reputation

There is only one hanger steak per animal — roughly 1.5 pounds from an 800-pound carcass — which is why butchers historically kept it for themselves. The hanger suspends from the diaphragm between the loin and rib, performing no meaningful muscular work, which yields a texture closer to tenderloin than its location in the plate primal would suggest. The flavor, however, is nothing like tenderloin. It carries mineral depth, a whisper of offal (owing to its proximity to the liver and kidneys), and an intensity that ribeye devotees find surprising the first time.

In France and Belgium, hanger is the traditional cut for steak frites. In Mexico it is known as arrachera, typically marinated and grilled quickly before being sliced into strips for tacos or fajitas. Both traditions understand the same essential truth: this cut wants high heat, confident seasoning, and to be eaten rare to medium-rare. Push it past that window and the texture compounds into something fibrous and unforgiving.

The Denver Steak: The Chuck’s Renaissance

Chef David Rose has described the Denver cut as having the inter-muscular marbling of a ribeye and the beefy mouthfeel of a quality New York strip — and the price of neither. The Denver comes from the chuck flat, buried below the flat iron in the shoulder complex, and was largely unknown to consumers until about fifteen years ago when beef scientists at the University of Nebraska identified it as one of the most tender and flavorful underutilized muscles in the carcass. It ranked second only to filet mignon in tenderness in that study, but with considerably more flavor.

The key to cooking it is patience over the cutting board: a thin medial line of connective tissue runs through the center and must be trimmed before slicing. Once handled, the Denver responds well to a reverse sear or sous vide finish, which coaxes the marbling through the muscle evenly. It is appearing with growing frequency in serious steakhouses and is worth requesting by name at your butcher counter.

The Flat Iron: The Shoulder’s Most Democratic Cut

The flat iron emerged from the same University of Nebraska research initiative that elevated the Denver, and it has since graduated from obscurity into mainstream availability. It comes from the top blade of the shoulder — an area historically associated with tough cuts — but the flat iron is an exception, yielding one of the most tender results from the entire chuck primal after a line of connective tissue is removed.

The flat iron rewards simple preparation: season aggressively, sear in a cast iron pan at high heat to medium-rare, rest, and slice against the grain. It has a moderate, accessible beef flavor — less intense than hanger or bavette, more approachable for those still building their vocabulary of secondary cuts. It is widely available and consistently affordable, making it an excellent entry point into the world beyond the strip.

The Picanha: Brazil’s Gift to the Grill

The picanha — known as rump cap or coulotte in France — is a flat, triangular, boneless cut taken from the cap of the top sirloin. Its defining feature is a thick layer of fat running across the top, which renders down during cooking and bastes the meat from within, adding a richness no butter sauce can replicate.

The picanha is considered the most prized cut at Brazilian steakhouses and is becoming increasingly popular across the United States. In the churrasco tradition, it is folded into a C-shape and skewered, then carved tableside in thin, pink strips. At home, it can be grilled whole or sliced into steaks — always cut with the grain before cooking, then against the grain on the plate. The fat cap should stay on through the cook; remove it at the table if desired, though most who try it with the fat included don’t bother.

How to Build a Better Relationship with Your Butcher

Every cut on this list shares one logistical barrier: you will rarely find them stacked in a supermarket cooler on a Wednesday evening. They require a relationship with someone who understands the whole animal. Call ahead. Be specific. Ask your butcher which of these cuts they can source or are willing to break down from a larger primal. Most independent butchers welcome the request — it gives them an opportunity to demonstrate skill that ground beef and sirloin tips don’t allow for.

Online options exist for those without a reliable local shop. Porter Road, Snake River Farms, and Crowd Cow all stock several of these cuts in American Wagyu grades, which amplify the marbling and flavor characteristics that make them compelling in the first place.

The ribeye is not going anywhere. It has earned its place on every serious menu — including ours at The Heritage Diner, where the quality of what we serve has always come before the convenience of what’s easier to source. But the cuts above represent a different kind of knowledge. They reward curiosity, punish indifference, and deliver flavors the standard steakhouse menu rarely gets close to. The animal offers far more than what the spotlight illuminates. Learning these cuts is not a compromise. It is an education.

Sources

Peter Kalafatis

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