in memory of a father on father's day

My father, Burt, passed on a few years ago in Texas. Since then, some days/holidays have been difficult and full of melancholy. As my friend and colleague, Eric, tried to explain the feeling at the time in an e-mail "You are no longer a son."

This Father's Day, I did something different. My dad loved Gulf of Mexico seafood. Rather than mourn the loss, I decided to celebrate his appetite.

My dinner today was New Orleans-style BBQ shrimp and crawfish/crab pie.





Despite the generally grey sky, Father's Day today held a glimmer of light for the first time since his death. I may no longer have a dad, but I will always be his son. I may no longer have a dad, but I have his appetite.

With thoughts to all of those who have lost their fathers,
Wade

Wade, I am glad that you were able to celebrate your father in this way. The meal looked lovely and was a nice tribute.

Wade,

Your post is of great help to me today.

I lost my father to suicide on this very weekend, five years ago.

In spite of popular opinion, this day has not gotten any easier for me with the passage of time.

Regards,
E.M.

What a wonderful thread. My dad died almost 16 years ago and I still found myself misting up as I looked at Father's Day cards last week. I've recently watched several of my friends go through the loss of their parents and where people get this idea that you just get over it and move on, I have no idea.

Wade, like you, I prefer to celebrate my dad's memory by enjoying the things that he loved. One of his favorite things to eat was freshly steamed crab legs with mustard sauce as opposed to drawn butter. I find it almost sacrilege to eat them any other way. He was also a big lobster fan and I know he would enjoy the grilled lobster tails with herb butter that we do at my house from time to time.

More than anything though, I know that he would get a huge kick out of how my cooking skills have developed. When I was a teenager he bugged my Mom about how she should be teaching me to cook. I was too busy with sports and school to care and she knew that. It wasn't until I got older and had to cook for myself that I started exploring the fabulous world of food and the kitchen. There are a lot of times when I'm cooking away now that I know my dad is looking over my shoulder, grinning, shaking his head and very proud of me that I learned to do all this in spite of him.

It's fun and heartwarming to read that others have been inspired to culinary exploits by their fathers, and have those great memories to cling to once their fathers are gone. My mom was a good cook, but it was my dad who got me into all the strange, exotic, or ethnic stuff.

When my dad passed away a couple of years ago, I wrote a column about him and included a recipe that he particilarly loved. Again, in memory of him and for father's day, here is the recipe, with it's lead in.

As much as dad loved trying new things, I can remember a time when he fell in love with one dish almost to the exclusion of all others. We were in Spain. Our hotel in Madrid offered a dish from Asturia, and dad had it at least six times in the ten days we were there. Needless to say, I had to find a recipe for this regional specialty and make it for him. I was able to serve fabada Asturiana to my dad one more time for his 80th birthday. The next year, he passed away.

Fabada Asturiana
Asturian Bean and Meat Stew

1 lb. dried fava beans or 5 lb. fresh pods (see notes)
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1/4 lb. thick-sliced bacon, cut into 1-inch pieces
8-10 large cloves garlic, minced
4 onions, coarsely chopped
1 large carrot, peeled and coarsely chopped
1/2 lb. lean beef, cut in bite-size pieces
1 ham hock (about 1 pound)
1 lb. spicy, flavorful pork sausage (see notes)
2 bay leaves
1 Tbsp. Spanish paprika, or regular paprika plus 1/4 tsp. hot red pepper
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Soak dry beans overnight or shell fresh beans. If using dried beans, see notes below for variation. From this point forward, this is for the fresh beans.

In a large casserole or stock pot, heat oil and cook bacon over medium heat for 3 or 4 minutes. Add garlic, onions, and carrot. Reduce to low and cook for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add ham hock, beef, sausage, bay leaf, and paprika. Add water to barely cover (about 6 cups). Bring to a boil, skimming foam and fat from top as it rises. Reduce heat and simmer, partially covered, on very low heat for about 1 hour. Add fresh, shelled beans and simmer for an additional 1/2 hour, or until beans are tender and juicy. Remove ham hock and defat surface of stew. Take meat off ham hock, cut up, and return to the pot. Discard bay leves. Taste for seasoning, and adjust add salt and pepper, if needed. Serve warm (for authenticity, use a clay bowl—though any way you serve it, it’s great). Serves 6-8.

Notes: The traditional sausage used would be a 50/50 combo of Spanish chorizo and Morcilla, a Spanish blood sausage. I don’t do blood (probably too much time in the blood pathology lab at Baxter Labs), so I just use chorizo. Mexican chorizo is different from Spanish, but is still delicious, if Spanish proves hard to find. Whatever you choose, be sure to remove the casing.

Fava beans are also known as broad beans, feve, faba, and habas, with the name differing regionally. However, though you’ll often see a variety of names in recipes, you’ll usually see them as favas or broad beans in stores.

Depending on the time of year, this stew may be made with either fresh or dried beans. Fresh beans require less cooking time and are more flavorful. Dried beans are available all year (though often only at ethnic grocers), but need to be soaked overnight and then peeled (actually, an easy job—just make a slit with a sharp knife, and the skin comes off like a little jacket). Sometimes, even fresh beans need to be peeled, if they are very mature, which you can tell by looking at the little stripe on top where the bean connects to the pod. If it’s black, the bean is mature and should probably be peeled.

To adjust for the use of dried beans: Reserve water from soaked beans to make up part of the liquid added to the stew. Put all the meat, seasonings, and beans in the pot at the same time. Add soaking liquid and water to cover, bring to the boil, and simmer for 2-1/2 hours. (All other steps match those above.)

Wonderful thread.

I am fortunate enough that both my parents are still with us. And, though they still have their health, Dad turns 85 next month and they have literally just started packing for the move to an apartment. As I've been watching them begin to do this, I've been surprised at how hard their move has turned out to be for me. And given Dad's age, I know we won't have him around forever. His own father died at 53 and Dad has smoked a pipe since before I was born.

We spent a long time working on it, but we've enjoyed a great relationship for a long time now. Though we live hundreds of miles away, I have come to treasure even the quick, thirty-second phone calls, knowing that I won't always have even those.

This thread is a great reminder for those of us lucky enough to still have our fathers.... Thanks to all the posters.

When my dad passed away 3 yrs ago, my brothers and I all decided to honor him by eating a Big Mac on each Father's Day. Tho he really enjoyed them, he didn't eat them much, maybe once a year, and that's why we decided to do the same. I'll go to the card shop, read thru all the dad's day cards, get all teary-eyed, and have a good cry over a Big Mac. I know he'd get a good laugh out of the way the other patrons won't sit near me, most likely because they think i'm crazy.

I celebrate his birthday by making his favorite bread pudding in the 'bread pudding only' casserole dish my mom gave me (a few years before he died, and he was pretty steamed about that!)

Here's to Dads!

My take-away from this conversation (being a dad three times-over myself, and my dad still alive) is that I had better establish a dish so that when I'm gone, my kids will have something good to eat in remembrance of me.

Candidates to date: tamal Oaxaca, Oysters Rock, and key lime pie.

It's the least I can do.