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Lovely post! And the recipe looks great-- I'm going to try it!

My dad is an anomaly. He did and does ALL the cooking. My mom couldn't even make toast, and my dad used to work in restaurants and loves cooking.

Lately I've been making sure that I ask him for recipes (which he keeps in his head) and when I'm home I have him show me how he makes things. Among my favorite comfort food that he makes are

- Mashed potato stuffing (for turkey on thanksgiving and christmas)
- Broccoli and cheese sauce
- Garlic scallops
- Dill dip
- Potato salad, coleslaw etc. etc.
Oh, and no one does a lobstah dinnah like my dad!

That brought tears to my eyes. Thank you, Dana.

Kitchen memories of when I spent weekends at my dad's house:
-"Bread cereal" for breakfast... torn-up pieces of cheap bread, topped with milk, and lots of sugar. It was sometimes pretty gross, but cheaper than many cereals.
-Stinky fried fish... my dad liked to buy some cheap fish and fry it up with lots of black pepper, and then the apartment or house would have that fishy stink for days.
-Fried spam with breakfast! Or fried bologna, if we were really splurging.
-Macaroni goulash, dad's way: cook some elbow macaroni, pour in a bunch of canned tomato sauce, tomato juice, and/or diced tomatoes (whatever you could scrounge from the cupboard, really), and stir in an absurd amount of black pepper. Dad would make a huge batch of this, and it could serve as lunches and dinners all weekend.

He remarried when I was twenty, but all those weekends with dad when I was growing up, it was classic single-guy bachelor food for us. I'm thinking of making macaroni goulash for dinner tonight...

My father was always doing something both elaborate yet half-assed that never worked out. Stir fry with tons of ingredients that came out soggy, grilling with his jury-rigged grill (2 hours on the "heat" and my mother would still have to broil the ribs before dinner), shrimp curry using curry powder so old it was flavorless.

But I also remember him making me perfect peanut butter and banana sandwiches, or slicing his garden-grown tomatoes, smearing them with mayo, and cracking fresh pepper on top.

My daddy died in 2005. While I was helping my mother clear out his papers, I found folders and folders of bread recipes, barbecue sauce recipes, chowder recipes, on and on. He was a perfectionist and was always searching for the perfect recipe, yet he rarely tried to make any of the versions, just saving them for "maybe one day". I think that's the biggest food lesson he left me, when I was already well into adulthood. There is no perfect anything, the fun is in the trying.

I was talking to my mother this weekend (on the cell on a porch swing in the middle of a Fred Meyer, no less) about the recipe book I've been putting together based off the meals I create. I was telling her how I don't really have any cookbooks and she said:

"Don't you know that the recipes that are splattered with cookie dough and butter stains make the best cookies?"

She reminded me that my Grammy used to cook like I did, and whenever my mother asked for the recipe, my Grammy would relay it verbally, saying things like, "And then you put a pinch of this in and taste it."

My mother still doesn't know if it was my Grammy's-size pinch or my mother's-size pinch. ;) I guess these things vary.

Your post about your dad's fudge brings tears to my eyes...and grumbles to my stomach. I'm going to have to give it a shot.

My dad made chicken soup from scratch, and it always made the house smell fantastic. Although I don't eat meat anymore, I have fond memories of smelling the soup as it simmered on the stove while my dad lay on his back on the floor of the living room, having put too much stress on it while making the soup, apparently. He also used to make my sandwiches for school lunches with shapes like hearts and diamonds cut in the middle of them, which I would pop out and eat first.

Oh yeah--and sun pickles! Cucumbers in a jar filled with dill, salt and pepper, topped with a slice of bread, closed tight and put in the sun until pickled. :) not that crunchy, but very tasty.

Thanks for this post! My dad retired early and started cooking mostly as a form of entertainment. He would make dishes that were obscure or his favorites. Unfortunately, he was a task master and though loved to share his knowledge was a bit of autocrat in his direction. I still have fond memories of him teaching me how to make a family favorite when he was ill with lung cancer. I think of him every time I make the dish.

I remember my dad making me eggs-in-a-frame whenever my mom wasn't home. Also, "Daddy's" chocolate chip cookies (Tollhouse with some butterscotch chips instead of nuts). His specialty is tableside Caesar Salad from his waiter days though.

My dad makes this incredible burnt flour gravy. He adds mushrooms, onions, and at least one kind of meat to it--whatever we had on hand or left over. It's just amazing. It's a variation of the burnt flour gravy his father used to make for him when he was a kid during the Depression. It helped to stretch an FDR Alphabet Soup program paycheck (the CCC or WPA, probably) to cover a family of 11 back then. These days, I just try to talk my dad into making a huge batch of it whenever he visits.

This story made me cry. One of my fondest memories of my father is watching him make fudge. His recipe is the same as your father's but he stirred it a lot to make it sugary. And that's how I like it. A friend of mine makes it this way and she gives it to me for Christmas every year. It is a bittersweet gift.

what a beautiful post. My dad was in charge of making salad at dinnertime, and could scrounge up the most random ingredients from the fridge to make a mean omelet. It is also from him that I get my serious appreciation of bagels.