Daddy Can Burn!

Father’s Day is particularly significant in our family because my sister & I were raised by our dad. Yes, many family members helped when he called but it was dad who kept a roof over our heads, doled out discipline and put clothes on our backs. He taught us some of the typical dad things like how to drive a stick-shift, but there’s something else he taught us that could be considered unusual for fathers: a love of cooking.

My dad cooked 4-5 times a week. Friday and Saturday were usually leftovers or carry-out and Sunday was always a special meal. Fast food was a treat, not a regular occurrence. He had a great collection of cookbooks with worn pages spattered on and notes in the margins. But sometimes he would recreate something he’d had in a restaurant, trying several times until he captured the flavor. Or he’d create his own twist. The first time I had shrimp etouffe was at home, not in a restaurant. I didn’t know that pasta carbonara was made with cream sauce until I’d ordered it in a restaurant–Dad always made his without.

He is famous among our friends for his pound cake. Every gathering the host asks him to bring it. It’s a family recipe that he’s perfected, sometimes topping it with a lemon or rum glaze of icing. Lately he’s been working on a home-made bourbon-vanilla ice cream to go with the pound cake.

Speaking of ice cream, we had a hand-crank ice cream
mixer growing up. My birthday is in the summer so I clearly remember preparing for the party by taking turns cranking that sucker, hearing the ice grind with the rock salt. My arms ache even now at the thought, but oh what a creamy delight that came from all of the work!

I once asked my dad why he enjoyed cooking so much. His response was simple: “Because I like to eat.” Those memories of fabulous home cooked meals still live in the memories I and my sister share. Though we both have lives outside of dad’s house, each time we come home we look forward to eating well. We cook our own meals in that same spirit of providing tasty food to our loved ones. It’s that spirit that I hope to pass along to my daughter.

Thanks Dad for such great food memories!

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