Foodie

Remembering Tom - 7th in a 30 piece series

My dad taught me that skinny asparagus has the best snap and flavor. We usually enjoy it sautéed with butter, garlic, and sea salt, as a side with fish, and maybe some potatoes. When I lived with my dad in San Diego my sophomore year of high school we ate a lot of vegetables prepared that way. I think I gained about 10 lbs that semester. They were a good 10 lbs. We ate a lot of grilled chicken, some fish, veggies (usually broccoli back then) with butter and various potatoes – baked, mashed, roasted and my favorite, cheese fries!!

Similar to other memories with my dad, there was a stark contrast between food memories as a child and food memories as an adult.

I think my dad loved cooking because what he really savored was eating. When something was particularly yummy he would express his pleasure with some dramatic mmmmmm,  mmmmm,  mmm, mmm, mmms.  He described exceptional meals as “orgasmic” and his expression of pleasure was a mild rendition of the infamous “When Harry Met Sally” scene. For my dad, food really did provide that much joy.  And he liked the world (or at least the people at the table with him) to know it.  

Food connected my parents - preparing meals, hosting dinner parties, and even teaching others how to cook were things they were good at and enjoyed doing together. They both had to learn about food though, and how to cook. My dad came from a family where meals were very simple, and my mom grew up in a home where many meals consisted of “bread, milk and sugar.” My dad’s palette developed in the early years of marriage, thanks to my mom.  He wouldn’t eat very tasty things and “he refused onions” she says. My mom would chop the onions so tiny he couldn’t detect them. She watched (and studied) Julia Childs from the kitchen while she learned and experimented. She taught other women how to cook at our church and my dad soon joined in the cooking fun, including teaching the church classes and developing his own art for food and flavor. Over time his tastes refined and so did their team approach to food. 

While I have fond memories of dinner parties and the sound of rowdy adults in the other room, managing rowdy kids at dinner time was no match for my dad’s intolerance of uncontrolled chaos. He loved food - but he did not like eating with little people who made messes, and hid under tables at restaurants. Over time, my mom developed a work around and made sure we were fed before he got home, preserving peace for all.

Similar to other memories with my dad, there was a stark contrast between food memories as a child and food memories as an adult. By the time I was in high school and he was settled in San Diego, he had begun the tradition of hosting Thanksgiving every other year. It was a great tradition, spanning two or three days and was really a  family and friendsgiving. Some combination of my siblings (4 of us) and step-siblings (3 of them) with partners, spouses and kids, as well as my dad and step mom’s friends and sometimes our friends were in attendance each year. It was a full house with tons of fabulous food. It was likely the event that brought him the most joy, and the most stress every two years. But he got to showcase his cooking, and enjoy the development of ours - especially my sister Caily’s. He took great pride in knowing we could all cook. Everyone pitched in at Thanksgiving the years we were together. I  made the gluten free stuffing (so I could eat it).  One of his favorite meals to make and eat was turkey pie, with all the leftovers of Thanksgiving.  He loved that Caily became a foodie and always looked forward to her Thanksgiving creations.  Now he would be devouring her sourdough bread.

And now, we celebrate my dad with food; we eat wings on his birthday and make turkey pie the day after Thanksgiving - savoring the food and our memories of him.

My dad  enjoyed everything from a basic peanut butter and fluff sandwich on white bread, to fancy dishes like mushroom cassoulet. I loved his scrambled eggs, perfection, just like the way his dad made them. He was great on the grill of course, and he could roast any cut of meat. He didn’t follow recipes; he created with touch, taste, smell, sight and I think just a knowledge of food that he developed over time and with patience and persistence - like any art. He never really got fancy, just regular food, but always exceptionally tasty with a heavy dose of love. When I was 14, he took me on a dad/daughter date to a fancy restaurant in La Jolla, overlooking La Jolla Shores and the Pacific Ocean. We ordered a table side Caesar salad complete with anchovies. He watched, remembered, and duplicated it later that week. It became one of his signatures.  

I imagine eating was not very pleasurable the last few months of his life. He likely lost his appetite. He was filled with cancer and either didn’t know or didn’t tell anyone. I do know that on his “farewell tour” while he visited us four months before he died, he enjoyed some of his most favorite foods – New England lobster roll, fried fish platter, Chinese chicken wings and I am sure some pizza and beer from somewhere.  We always welcomed my dad with food - we’d pick up the chicken wings before we picked him up from the airport, so the car would be filled with a favorite smell! And now, we celebrate my dad with food; we eat wings on his birthday and make turkey pie the day after Thanksgiving - savoring the food and our memories of him.