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To my father…

It being the day before Father’s Day & all that, I feel the need to thank the guy that got me really interested in food; My Dad, Andre-Pascal.  My fondest childhood memories were always either in the kitchen or at the dinner table where our family spent most of our time.  Growing up in NYC my brother & I always knew that we had to be home for dinner, no matter where we were.  That daily family meal defined us & in a way brought all 4 (my 2 older sisters had by then, flown the coop) of us together.  Even now, I rarely come across any people in New York that actually ate with their family every night.  At the time, I thought it was a chore, but looking back it was a blessing.

As a youngster, I remember listening to Cat Stevens or Roger Whitaker while trying to help my Dad in the kitchen; whisking eggs, kneading dough, or making a general nuisance out of myself, I was always there.  My favorite spice was paprika & I wanted to put it on everything!  My Mom cooked too, but Dad was the real Maestro (despite his lack of love for her excellent Lasagna & Chilli) & I love the fact that we were able to share so many meals together.

From my humble beginnings of boiling water for Pot Noodles in boarding school, to Stefan’s Beef Stroganoff (without the beef) and my eventual emergance as a half-decent cook through Thursday Club, I have my Dad to thank.

He turned 78 years young 2 weeks ago (see pic @ Barbounia) & I know that our time together will not last forever, but I love him for the magic he brought to the kitchen & the bonds we formed at the dinner table.  In short; I Love You Dad!

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One Response

  1. A lovely tribute….

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