My daddy died in 1973 when I was in my early twenties. I was only around him and learned about him until I was 18, when I left home and married. He was an awesome man. So talented. A caring father and fantastic physician. He was a dirt poor country boy who was the first in his family to go to college. Medical school to boot!
He didn't have time nor the inclination to cook, save for the obligatory time presiding over the charcoal grill in the summertime. However, he LOVED to eat and savored a fine meal. He knew good food and truly enjoyed it. It was always a treat to go out to dinner with him.
Daddy was the person who taught me the joys of a rare steak. Pure heaven. I still don't understand how he stomached my mothers overdone beef shingles she cooked. Her steaks were so overdone it nearly took a chainsaw to cut them. Yuck.
At any rate, I so loved to cook for him and had plenty occasions to do so since he and my mother separated numerous times, often the better part of a year many times, during my time with them. Since I was the oldest, I was charged with taking over the household when our mother was absent.
Even though daddy loved and savored gourmet food, his simple upbringing was still his base. He often asked me to prepare beef hash, fruited Jell-O, buttered green beans, and his all-time favorite dessert, rice krispies treats.
He is with me every time I prepare those dishes, especially the rice krispies treats. He could eat them by the plateful.
It's been 35 years, but I still miss my daddy very, very much. We were best friends even though for a short time.
"As a girl I had zero interest in the stove." - Julia Child
This is real inspiration. Look what Julia became!