A couple of days ago at the store, Kathy came into the kitchen while I was prepping for the Sicilian class and, surveying all that Southern Italian summer food, said “You know, my body’s already gone on to fall; it’s been craving cold weather food.”

I knew exactly what she meant. There’s something that happens in late summer—maybe it’s the change in the light; maybe it’s the subtle change in the produce; or maybe it’s just boredom with the same cold things over and over again. But the salads and cold soups and grilled food that were so appealing and refreshing in June have become downright tedious as the earth’s tilt marches us firmly toward fall.

This always happens to me just as the temperatures peak for the year and the air outside feels, as my late friend Thom Maher so aptly put it, like hot mayonnaise, so it could also be nothing more than wishful thinking.

When I lived in Florida, and it was hot almost all the time, along about this time of year I’d get so homesick for cool weather that I’d crank up the air conditioning and roast a chicken or go on a baking frenzy, making apple tart, or my grandmother’s sweet potato pie, or a loaf of crusty autumnal bread, or just a dish of baked apples with custard sauce. My electric bill would be a nightmare, but it was worth every penny.

Even so, it’s still too hot to stand over a pot of boeuf bourguignonne—even with the air conditioner set on deep freeze—it doesn’t matter who might be craving it. And as good as it is, I’ve had enough Thai beef salad and grilled steak to last me; that is no longer going to satisfy that yen for hearty red meat.

We should probably just be grateful to have choices; after all, there are places in the world where people are lucky to get as much as a bowl of white rice or corn mush—hot or cold. But somehow, images of starving children in Africa and China don’t motivate me to gratitude any more than they did when I was a boy and they were waved in my face as a reason to be grateful for a cold slab of canned lunch meat on white bread.

And merely feeling guilty about having choices with food isn’t really helping those who are deprived of them.

Where the heck was this going? Oh, yeah: that perverse craving for hot, hearty food in hot weather. You know, it is possible to satisfy that craving without cranking up the oven or standing over a hot iron pot full of beef stew.

This is when quick sautés are a Godsend: a little fat, a little intense heat, a quick deglacé, and you’ve got a satisfyingly hearty main dish in minutes, without fainting from the heat or taking out a second mortgage to pay the electric bill.

One secret is in the seasoning—using a bit of the flavors we usually associate with cooler weather—like a bit of sage and onion for chicken breasts or boneless pork chops or tenderloins, a sumptuous shallot-scented red wine deglazing for sautéed beef.

And, of course, the gravy: whether it’s that elegant wine deglacé (which is, after all, just fancy pan gravy) or the more homespun version made of the browned drippings and broth or milk, having a warm, hearty sauce to mop up with the last morsel or a crusty piece of bread goes a long way toward satisfying that craving for more substantial fare.

A simple beef sauté is quick and almost as satisfying as a long-simmered stew. For two people, choose about a pound of sirloin, the tapered end cut of a tenderloin, or a thick chuck steak—any cut that is tender enough not to need a long simmer. Trim and cut it into one-and-a-half-inch cubes. Trim and mince a large shallot or about half of a small yellow onion—enough to make about ¼ cup, and chop a tablespoon of flat-leaf parsley. Have handy half a cup each of red wine and beef broth and a goodly portion of best quality butter. Now, you’re ready to cook.

Choose a heavy skillet or frying pan and let it get hot over medium heat. Dry the meat well with paper towels. Add a couple of tablespoons each of butter and oil (or three tablespoons of clarified butter if you have it) to the hot pan and let it get hot. Then add the meat and sauté, tossing often, until it is a rich brown on all sides, about five minutes. It should still be medium rare. Remove it from the pan to a warm platter or bowl and season it with salt and a liberal grinding of pepper.

Now add the shallot to the hot pan and toss until golden, which won’t take more than a minute—so don’t let it scorch. Pour in the half cup of wine and, vigorously stirring and scraping, deglaze the pan. Let it cook down to a syrup and add the broth. Let that reduce until lightly thickened, then return the meat and any juices that have accumulated on the platter to the pan. Heat it through, tossing, then turn off the heat, and swirl in two to three tablespoons of butter. Sprinkle in the parsley and you’re done.

Serve it with noodles, rice, or mashed potatoes or simply with hunks of good crusty bread.