Monday, February 22, 2010

Sunday Night Dinner with Dad

Dear Rachael, 
I know you are rolling around catching pollack in the Arctic Circle but missed you 
at dinner tonight so thought I would catch you up on dinner.  Your chair is here and 
we think you would have loved this dinner.

Banging away on the computer and hear your Dad attempting to cook in the kitchen.
My heart skips a beat but I really want to finish what I am working on and yell;
CARRY ON HONEY, BE THERE IN A MINUTE.......

He pokes his head around the corner and asks questions, frequently.
I answer from the vacuum of my brain as the keys
are pounding away, to nice beat.  
Right now my mind is whirring with creativity induced by lack of sleep. 
Honey........
It's cooking, I do it everyday and could do in my sleep
or standing on my head.  
His questions are white noise, gnats, somewhat annoying but tolerable.

I type faster as my brain is starting to process;  He is in the kitchen alone with a bottle of wine and
sharp objects.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch the scurrying back and forth from the grill to the kitchen.
Type faster I command my fingers as I hear the whosh of the gas flames ignite.

Calm down he is lighting the grill and chopping something so I assume he is happy.
I ask, are you sure there is enough propane in the tank?  
I have been saying for the last
two weeks; "Do you smell propane?  I smell propane, I think it's the grill."  
He declares; No, I shut if off last October, can't be.  
Hey, what do I know I just fire raku kilns off three, 100 pound tanks periodically.
After two weeks I didn't smell the propane anymore and figured we were safe.

He runs out, slaps the steak on the grill and scurrys back in the kitchen. 
Out of the corner of my eye I notice the steak still on the plate.
I ask; Is it done already?  very quietly I hear......... "you might be right about that propane."
I smile and keep typing.....

Logging my work I run to check the kitchen.

There are perfectly cut potatoes that look like they came out of a bag!
We are talking precision cut hash browns.  Sprinkled with herbs and on a sprayed cookie sheet,
to make clean up a breeze.  I ask in astonishment; "Did you do that?  You know I have a machine to do that."
He very smuggly smiles and answers; " We don't need no stinking machine."





There is fresh salmon sitting on a cookie sheet and I say........ why don't you put a
marinade on those, they look naked.
He whips around and lifts the lid off a sauce pan, smiling; "I made special sauce!
Me and Francis Ford Coppola" ........ Hmmmmm, how much did you drink?

He made a "Denver cut" steak, what the hell is a Denver cut steak? 
I had to google that one.

and then he announced;  Dinner is at eight o'clock,  I just love a European dinner don't you?
by now I am laughing hysterically........ I LOVE weekends!

He calls Abby down for dinner.  Before even looking at the menu she is popping aspirin and declaring;
I have a headache!  I think ......... WOW! you're not even married!



The plates are dished, the candles lite, the napkins placed.

We sit and he asks questions like;  Is the fish flaky?  do you love the special sauce?  did you get any bones? is it done enough?  Abby, how is your steak?  Do you love these potatoes?
How come I cook every day and not once have we been this excited about the food?

Yes, yes, yes, everything is amazing and Wow this special sauce is wonderful.  Abby chimes in; my steak tastes like fish.  You cooked my steak in the salmon pan?  You know how I feel about fish.
I kick Abby under the table, miss and hit the dog. I silently mouth...... Tell him you LOVE dinner!
The dog surfaces thinking he has been summoned from the depths of the dinner table.

Abby and I realize this marks a National Holiday........DAD MAKES DINNER DAY!   I soooooo need a card for this!

I ask:  Are you going to have wine?  
 He replies; "Francis Coppala and I used it all in the special sauce."  
There is an eyedropper full of sauce on my salmon, 
I'm thinking Butch and Francis are pretty good friends since there isn't a thimble left.

Thinking we are done and we gush with accolades.  
He scurrys out on the screened porch and produces a
Key Lime Pie!  Whoa!  
He grates lime rind over the top and I wonder if it might be parsley.  
Wow, it's pretty good!



We offer to clean the kitchen and everyone pitches in!



Seriously, this would make a much better holiday than dead presidents day!

luv
mum
who is counting the days to lift off..........

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