On Bologna Sandwiches, Fancy Feasts and a 6 Year Vacation in Napa...

Dads Impact Our Stories Whether They Know It or Not

Though I have solely focused on food for most of my life, I didn’t grow up in a foodie family. I had this amazing set of parents who loved us dearly and while I thought about food constantly as a kid - waking up with recipes in my head even in elementary school - it was never top of mind for them and still isn’t. They happily relinquished the kitchen to me in my early teens realizing I had a gift and love for cooking. (I learned the valuable lesson that in an equitable situation the cook never cleans which was the part of cooking I hated!)

Thankfully both my parents are still alive and mostly thriving. I shared a little about my mom in this post, and as it’s Father’s Day, I’m thinking about how my dad has been an integral part of my culinary career even when he had no idea he was.

My dad now…81!

Not Your Momma’s Bologna Sandwiches

One of my earliest food memories was my dad making us bologna sandwiches when he was left with me and my sister. So early in fact, that one of us couldn’t pronounce it properly so the sandwiches were called from then on “Boney and See” Sandwiches. For those not from the south, this word is pronounced Bah-loh-nee, in no way close to its spelling.

For the Boney and See, my dad didn’t just slap a piece of bologna between two pieces of bread. No, it was truly a work of art and engineering. Here’s how it went from what I remember as he taught me to make them:

• Toast hamburger buns with lots of butter in a skillet

• Lay slices of bologna in the residual butter - and here’s the most important part - use a metal spatula to cut slits at 3, 6, 9 & 12 o’clock. This keeps the bologna flat.

• Lay slices of cheese on each bologna slice. This isn’t fancy schmancy cheese, mind you, I didn’t know about anything other than individually wrapped cheese slices until much later in life.

• Spread yellow mustard on each bread slice.

• Then comes the engineering part for there was a definite “right” way of doing this:

• Add a double layer of cheese covered bologna slices to the bottom bun.

• Top with crinkly dill pickle slices then add the bun top.

• Cut in half and always serve with Ruffles.

Multiple TIAs and strokes have stolen some memories but he’s doing the work to redig neural pathways. As I’m writing this, I’m mentally planning to buy the ingredients, take them to their little house and have him make them for me in hopes this, too, will help him remember. Photos of his work to come…

Fancy Feast

My dad is an artist. His work has never been featured in a gallery or museum or even anyone’s homes besides family. Unfortunately, he wasn’t encouraged to go after his heart and his natural artistic ability, although I secretly think he could have been very successful had his parents encouraged him the way he’s encouraged me.

One of his finest moments as an artist was winning the logo contest for Grapevine, Texas in 1980 which at the time garnered $1500 (almost $6000 now). While there were probably a million things they could have spent that money on that we really needed, they wanted us to have a true dining experience.

I’m quite sure my parents were completely unaware food would play such an important part in my life, but this was a definitive food memory for me. They took me and my sister to Antares, a revolving restaurant and Dallas’ fanciest, newest and most interesting restaurant at the time and by far, the nicest restaurant we had ever been to. If we splurged to go out to eat, it was a Mexican food restaurant, fast food or Luby’s cafeteria. But on this day, we dressed up - us in dresses and my dad in a suit - and we were dining high above downtown Dallas, far removed from our suburban home.

“We’ve Got This, Go Get On That Plane”

In 2005, I was nervously preparing to fly to New York and cook in a grilling contest at Bryant Park creating a recipe I had made up on the fly when I was bored one night and had only cooked once before only after I found out I was chosen as a finalist. Along with three other amateur cooks, I would be judged by the very people I watched almost daily on Food Network and Al Roker would be MC, interviewing the contestants during the event.

The night before the 9am flight, my youngest son woke up in the middle of the night screaming. We couldn’t figure out what was wrong since he was normally a great sleeper and if he awoke would talk himself back to sleep. When I picked him up that night simply holding and trying to soothe him, he said “Mommy, you’re hurting me.” A trip to the emergency clinic informed us for the first time, he had asthma and was having an asthma attack.

After multiple treatments his breathing was under control but any thoughts of getting on that plane were gone. Calling to let my parents know what was going on since they were planning to spend time with our boys while we were enjoying NYC, my dad said “we’ve got this, you just need to get on that plane.” HIS confidence gave ME confidence to head to the airport and blearily board the flight.

Mom and dad avoided their normal ice cream and shopping dates with the boys that week, instead giving nebulizer treatments and nursing them both back to health as my other son came down with something the day after we left. Had I not listened or Dad not almost demanded that we go, I would have missed out on several monumental moments in my culinary journey.

• Competing in a national competition (though I didn’t win) on an expense paid trip including a private dinner with Bobby Flay and staying in the hippest NY hotels.

• Discovering I could keep calm and keep grilling while being interviewed by Tyler Florence AND Al Roker at the same time.

• And the tipping point…landing the impossible table at Babbo our last night, thanks to Sara Moulton, one of the judges, pulling her culinary strings when she kindly asked if there was anything we needed. While I no longer support anything the orange-crocked-and-ponied chef and co-founder of the restaurant is involved with, at that time it was a culinary revolution for me and what service could and should look like.

The 6 Year Napa Vacation

Encouragement at his cost continued when we decided a couple of years later to make the leap and move to Napa Valley without a job or house and of course, take his grandkids with us. When he could have tried to talk us out of moving, he nor my mom did. Instead, he assured us that if we felt like this was what we were supposed to do we should do it.

Although my mom struggled with it, they both eventually came to terms with the move spending a good part of the next 6 years traveling back and forth to Napa to spend time with us and even graciously covering us financially when we lost everything and had to rebuild from nothing after living in one of the most expensive places in the US.

Regardless, he still talks about those years fondly, especially our trips to the wineries and beach, as do we. After all, it was like being on vacation for 6 years.

There Are Fathers and Then There Are Dads

There are billions of fathers in the world but there are far less Dads. Fathers in the best case are both the begetter of life and wise sages who guide us through each stage. Dads, however, are our biggest fans. They teach us how to make the perfect sandwich. They know when to say I’m sorry. And they are silly just when you need them to be.

The "silliness." Left to right: Circa 1980 - the old ping pong ball eyeball effect, passing along his best tricks to the next generation and more recently "talking" to a mannequin putting actions to the words "he will talk to anyone"

Thankfully I had both. A father who was there from the beginning and made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere even on my worst days. Besides being a great way to grow up, his actions painted a clear picture of who God is for us.

But more importantly, I have a dad. A dad who sees the best in me always. A dad who taught me to be silly and laugh a lot. And a dad whose favorite theory when life dumps on me being “Go outside like King David and dance naked.” While I never did that or have graciously never seen him do it, it definitely shook me out of my slump and helped me not take life so seriously.

Ironically, this also helped me see a clear picture of God…the Dad side. It stripped away the idea that God is ready to excommunicate me with the least sin but instead, to give me a big hug and he loves to laugh with me.

I’m so thankful I get bonus days with my dad. The strokes could have taken him a long time ago, but our Heavenly Father has plans for him as he’s still here loving people. The first thing he does these days when we see each other is give me a big hug and say “I love you” and he wanders through his local breakfast spot or Home Depot chatting with others from their small town with the prompting to new faces “Tell me about yourself.”

He once taught me that very concept on a lunch date when I was maybe in middle school “if you’re ever unsure of what to talk about ask people about themselves.”

I’ve never forgotten that advice and it’s led me to find the stories connecting food and people. It’s why this Sunday newsletter, starting with last week’s post, is now going to be more focused on the stories of these connections instead of random food facts or recommendations although when I find something so awesome I can’t NOT tell you, that will be included, too.