Once scorned by purists, in flights, fusions and classics, steak sauces are on the comeback.

There is right and there is wrong. Discerning between the two is said to be a simple task.

For instance, to bury a richly marbled steak under a torrent of A.1. Sauce is, at the very least bad form. As convention goes, the rich juices that ease from a cut of rare prime beef are about the only adornment necessary. Anything more can overwhelm the natural flavors.

“If it’s a great steak, no,” says Chef Todd Fisher of The Meatery in Seaside regarding the addition of sauce. “A great steak, salt and pepper is all you need.”

And so at destinations like Whaling Station Steakhouse in Monterey, while a presentation dish like beef Wellington may call for Perigourdine sauce, for rib-eye, filet mignon and other cuts, nothing more is suggested.

As Fisher implies, there is some wisdom to dressing a lesser quality steak. Yet at Seventh & Dolores Steakhouse, also one of the county’s finest purveyors of red meat, there exists the option of sampling six different sauces in a flight.

These are not sourced from a bottle. Two of the options – Bordelaise and brandy peppercorn – demand much from the restaurant’s kitchen crew. “We start to build the stock on Wednesday and it’s done on Friday evening,” Chef Raymundo Aquino explains.

Consumer research data suggests that steak sauce sales are on the uptick nationwide. Multiple sources cite interest in artisanal flavors, as well as the fact that people are using the products as marinades or in ways other than smothering meat.

But there remains a stigma. According to a report from Statista, 80 percent of Americans had used less than one bottle or jar of steak sauce in a specified 30-day period in 2020. Just over half eschewed sauce altogether. In 2014, the folks at A.1. even dropped “Steak Sauce” from the label. There are, however, some surprising dissenters.

“I do love a sauce,” says Fisher, who introduced sauce flights when he was at Seventh & Dolores. Served on the side, he adds, “I can change up each bite.”

Indeed, the sauce flight is a series of steak experiences. Brandy peppercorn, which chef Aquino lists as one of his favorites, offers notions of hardwood, fallen fruit and dried leaves with an earthy bite – all of which work well with steak. Chimichurri, on the other hand, slices through the heft of the meat, giving it a bright, herbal bounce.

One can go heavy or light. The prized earthy funk of truffle butter provides a graven dimension to the steak. Bordelaise lends an intensity – a dense, roasted savor. Meanwhile the Béarnaise aioli acts on its own, playing over the meat with a light, feathery twang.

There are other sauce options, including a traditional café de Paris and a nod to the era of fusion and mixology in a barrel-aged ponzu.

“I’ve walked into steakhouses and stuffy is the right word,” says Rigo Garcia, general manager of Seventh & Dolores. “We’re about the vibe. You can see what works best for you.”

The idea is catching on. SteakCraft in Carmel lists two sauce flights on the menu, one with an Asian flair. And The Meatery prepares a range of sauces, including a brandy peppercorn and Bordelaise.

While he stands by the belief that the finest steaks should be respected, Fisher notes that chefs at destination restaurants do not treat sauces as an afterthought. They are intended to enhance the experience of an already opulent cut of red meat.

Besides, customer service is the essential mantra of the restaurant industry. The Meatery’s burger is one of the richest and juiciest in the county, but one customer routinely douses his patty with Bordelaise.

“I’m not pedantic about it,” Fisher says. “I like to create variety.”

Keep in mind that relishing the natural flavor of a well-marbled slab of beef is a recent phenomenon. The world’s first brand dedicated to fine steaks – Certified Angus Beef – launched in 1978, spurring a demand for salt and pepper simplicity.

Classic steak presentations – Diane, Oscar or the French bistro favorite au poivre – often required a sauce. Order prime rib at Sardine Factory or Whaling Station and it comes to the table with horseradish cream.

So perhaps the line between right and wrong is fading, provided the sauce is crafted with care.

As Fisher observes, “If people want it, why not?”