Dad's Masterpiece

Most children associate cooking and jobs in the kitchen with their mothers. Although my mother is an excellent cook, I tend to associate cooking with my dad. On most Saturday nights, my dad would arrive home pretty late from being at work. By the time he got home we would be finished with dinner and he would have to heat up the leftovers saved for him by my mother. When he was done, he would gather my sisters and I in the kitchen and tell us that he was going to make something “special”.

My mom was never thrilled by these nights because we had already eaten dinner, and the majority of the time we were up well past our bed times. This wouldn’t stop my dad as he examined the contents of our refrigerator and cabinets, coming up with a plan for his latest concoction. He would then start taking out things like strawberries or Jell-O or chicken that my mom was defrosting for dinner the next night. He would always use the same wide, shallow pan and he turned the heat on all the way. Finally he would start creating his masterpiece.

He would start tearing through our spice cabinet, pulling out at least ten different herbs and spices every time he had one of his “moments”. My sisters and I would all crowd around at the stove and watch him, giving him little space to work, but he didn’t seem to mind. Every five minutes or so he would ask one of us to grab him some butter, flour, milk, ect. After numerous taste tests, when he was finally satisfied, he would tell the three of us to sit down at the kitchen table and not to look over at him and he was putting the finishing touches on his creation. Finally, he would walk over with three dishes of his odd looking but beautifully displayed masterpiece. One would not expect his “creations” to be appetizing, let alone edible, however he made some of the most delicious things I have ever eaten.

Throughout the whole process, my mom would shoot my dad disapproving looks whenever his eyes were off of the stove and she would always refuse to eat his “masterpiece” when he was finished. However, I would often look over and see her smiling because of the good time we were all having, even if it was past our bedtime.