Father's Day

Father’s Day can be a mixed bag depending on your place in life. If you are a young dad, you get handprints, handwritten notes, and handmade artwork. If you are a little older, your children may be in college or busy with their families and careers. While they may be late to call you on Father’s Day, don’t worry, they will call. But for a lot of dad’s (and those who aren't), Father’s Day can be tough. You want to call, but you can’t because your dad has passed away. 

And that’s where I was this year. This was my first Father’s Day without my dad, and I couldn't help but think about him. But life is a gift whether long or short, so I’ tried stay positive this past Sunday. And while my old man was no Paul Prudhomme, he did impart, for the most part, some decent advice about cooking. 

First, there was the grill. I’m not talking about those fancy gas-powered, industrial behemoths. No Big Green Egg. No Kalamazoo. I’m talking about those spindly-legged grills from K-Mart, always in danger of tipping over or rusting out. And then there was that cheap bag of charcoal from the local hardware store and the even cheaper bottle of lighter fluid. I remember how my dad would solemnly talk about fire safety while squirting half the bottle of lighter fluid on the open flame when my mom wasn’t looking. 

 

Second, there was the instruction after the coals had cooled and it was time to throw some meat on the grill. As my dad imparted his wisdom, he noted that what he was about to tell me had been handed down to him from his father, and his father's father and so on, all the way back to the Battle of Hastings. I was expecting the secret formula for Coca-Cola, but what I got was, “turn the meat so it cooks evenly.” And yet, despite that revealing tidbit, I did learn some useful things about cooking from my dad, such as: 

• How to separate eggs
• How to scramble eggs
• How to fry an egg
• How to make a ham sandwich (harder than you think!)
• How to make black-eyed peas
• How to cook country ham
• How to make and, more importantly, eat biscuits (with country ham of course)

My dad was not what you would call a gourmand. When visiting Paris, he had his favorite café make a French version of an American hot dog, complete with mustard and ketchup. The horror! But he didn’t care. He was in a happy place, even if his foodie son didn’t approve.  Now that I’m one of those more “mature” dads, I kind of get it. I’ve earned the right to be “that dad.” 

Did I mention that he was an amazing editor for this blog. If you find a typo or grammatical error, please don’t let me know.