How to not Boil an Egg: Dad in the Kitchen
My awesome, local, independent grocery store, Fiesta Farms, is running a contest as a part of their Apron Strings series about family food stories. In other words (theirs), "the ties that bind." Until the end of June people are sharing stories, recipes and videos all about their dad's (or granddad's) cooking for a chance to win Fiesta Farms gift certificates. But I think it's more about sharing with the community if you ask me.
My dad's relationship to cooking is the antithesis of the kinds of stories found in the Apron Strings community and consequently I have no recipe to share. While my dad is known to have a generous appetite with an extreme bias towards starch, it was mom who did 99.999% of the cooking. He does claim to be able to make a mean spaghetti but we never saw any proof.
I do have one vivid memory of my dad's cooking. On one of the rare occasions that my mom was away, probably at a spiritual retreat or something like that, and there was not a casserole to heat up, my dad was left to his own devices. Usually in these rare cases my sister and I would beg to go to McDonald's and dad would cave. My adult self recoils in horror at the thought. So this one time we were unable to work our charm/pestering on the situation and dad was going to make boiled eggs for dinner. I knew that he liked his yolks runny and I did not so I requested a hard boiled egg. He must have been in a foul mood because he snapped back, "you'll get what you get." It may have something to do with the fact that I had been previously telling him that he was going about it all wrong; being nine or so I knew how to boil an egg. It was not a good scene and the mood was sombre.
When, minutes later, the three of us sat down I was the first to crack open my shell and was shocked when out came a completely raw egg! I think I said something like "it really isn't hard boiled" or I hope I did anyway. My sister and I cracked up (ba doom doom ching!). At least my dad was good-natured enough to see the humour in the situation as well. I don't remember what we ended up eating for dinner that night (my guess is McDonald's) but we still laugh about the time that dad couldn't even boil an egg.
Have a happy father's day this Sunday!
My dad's relationship to cooking is the antithesis of the kinds of stories found in the Apron Strings community and consequently I have no recipe to share. While my dad is known to have a generous appetite with an extreme bias towards starch, it was mom who did 99.999% of the cooking. He does claim to be able to make a mean spaghetti but we never saw any proof.
I do have one vivid memory of my dad's cooking. On one of the rare occasions that my mom was away, probably at a spiritual retreat or something like that, and there was not a casserole to heat up, my dad was left to his own devices. Usually in these rare cases my sister and I would beg to go to McDonald's and dad would cave. My adult self recoils in horror at the thought. So this one time we were unable to work our charm/pestering on the situation and dad was going to make boiled eggs for dinner. I knew that he liked his yolks runny and I did not so I requested a hard boiled egg. He must have been in a foul mood because he snapped back, "you'll get what you get." It may have something to do with the fact that I had been previously telling him that he was going about it all wrong; being nine or so I knew how to boil an egg. It was not a good scene and the mood was sombre.
When, minutes later, the three of us sat down I was the first to crack open my shell and was shocked when out came a completely raw egg! I think I said something like "it really isn't hard boiled" or I hope I did anyway. My sister and I cracked up (ba doom doom ching!). At least my dad was good-natured enough to see the humour in the situation as well. I don't remember what we ended up eating for dinner that night (my guess is McDonald's) but we still laugh about the time that dad couldn't even boil an egg.
Have a happy father's day this Sunday!
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