In the grand scheme of things, Donald Trump's steak order is not a big deal. The man ran a campaign and an administration that traffics in fear, racism, and a wild disregard for anything that isn't Donald Trump's personal wealth and glory.
But as a microcosm or explainer of Donald Trump as a personality, his steak order can tell us quite a bit. We'll cut right to the chase: Donald Trump eats his steak well-done with ketchup.
Ok, so who cares? He likes his steak how he likes his steak. But that's always been the thing about Trump, he has things the way he likes them and throws tantrums when they don't happen in that way. That's an essentially childlike quality, and one that he's displayed repeatedly whenever given the slightest opportunity.
Steak is relatively unique in that it varies widely in quality and that, generally speaking, more intense preparation is a sign that the original product is sub-standard. This isn't always true, but a really good steak will stand out with little to no modification other than medium-rare preparation. If you have a poor steak, you'll see things like the addition of a lot of sauce, or longer cooking times.
Medium-rare steak is, to a kid, pretty gross. Properly prepared, the thing is bleeding when you cut into it. That's closer to aliveness than most of us are willing to get around ages five or six. When you start getting older, society starts gently nudging you towards medium-rare. Sure, it may be a little unpleasant at first: The steak is chewier and there's the whole blood thing. But you pretty quickly figure out that if you compromise your initial discomfort with something that you'll open up whole new worlds of quality and taste for yourself. It's like eating sea urchin, which looks pretty gross and has a strange texture and distinct taste (like you're swallowing the essence of the ocean) that becomes something you seek out after you convince yourself to like it.
Well-done steak is the worst. It's tough, it's comparatively bland, and people look at you funny when you order it. So what's the easy solution? Ketchup pretty much annihilates any other flavor in its path, with the sugar bathing everything in a saccharine haze. If you couldn't tell, I find it meal-ruiningly gross. But I accept that a lot of people like it.
So Trump essentially bathes his bad steak in cheap flavor and calls it a day. That's not horrible, except for him and his dining companions, but it does mean that he will most likely never change.
I mean all this to say: We can and should protest all we want, and we can probably reach the members of the government more flexible about their steakhouse order, but don't ever expect the man up top to do anything different.