I’ve got nothing. All my favourites from the kitchen were made by Dad. My poor mother would tell you that she didn’t enjoy cooking. She had four or five simple meals that rotated through the week. Like everyone else in the times back then, she overcooked all meat. I didn’t know the joys of a juicy steak until I was out on my own. It sure didn’t taste like anything I’d had at home.
Same with hamburgers. I always thought they had to be overcooked black hockey pucks.
Dad, on the other hand was in the Navy and was away a lot of the time sailing the world. After a nine month stint in England, Dad came back with all kinds or great recipes. He’d make Yorkshire pudding for important holiday meals, on the weekends my brother and I learned to like smoked kippers, and our Christmas favourite was his Christmas pudding with lemon hard sauce.
Then when Halifax hosted a big NATO gathering in the harbour, Dad got to know the chefs on the German and Indian ships and we got to experience schnitzels and curries that were out of this world.
Here’s what Mom made the best. She made me, my brother and my sister the best that we could be. Her patience at reading our favourite books to us over and over again knew no bounds. She helped us when we struggled with homework or last minute projects. She was our only parent for months at a time while Dad was “on ship” somewhere in the world.
And I wouldn’t change that for all the Sunday roasts or apple pies in the world.
