Sunday, June 15, 2008

Remembering My Dad..........A True Story about Him and Food!


You've got to love a guy who liked green Jello, don't you?!! I sure did. But, Dad was not the big exotic foodie I am. Did he love food? Yes. Was he, consequently, an adventurous eater, always trying new things? No, a resounding no! And he was always being teased and cajoled by my mother, who couldn't figure out how anyone could hate eggplant. My sisters didn't like trying new foods either and how could my mother complain when our own father was what my mother and I regarded as a poster boy for gastronomical mediocrity? I felt a great amount of pride when I was very young and my mother told friends and family that I was "the daughter who'll try anything. A wonderful eater." I'm even more glad now, because those words probably were the ones which encouraged me to want to try the more exotic dishes throughout my life. I felt it was a slight betrayel to Dad, but what six year old doesn't like to have their mother bragging about them? My father was better than your normal "meat and potatoes" man, but only a little.

Dad loved a good chili size, spaghetti and meatballs, and beef stew, but they'd better have no garlic that he knows about or can taste. And not too much onion. The area of food was, perhaps, the only area my parents were diametrically different. I'm positive my mother never, ever even saw a chili size and, if she had, she would have added garlic to it and had raw chopped onions piled on top.

Most business people like to eat lunch out. Not Dad. He took the sports page reverantly out of the L.A. Times each morning, read the rest of the paper with a bowl of corn flakes, waffles, or fried eggs and bacon, kissed Mom, and left, briefcase, blueprints and sports page in hand. The sports page was saved for the hour at Clifton's cafeteria or the greasy spoon nearest one of the job sites he would be around at noon. Dad was a contractor, besieged by plumbing, electrical, drywall, lumber, and all the other disciplines' subcontractors all day, not to mention the client. His hour of food, Don Drysdale and Gale Goodrich was hallowed, and alone. It was to the cafeteria that he took me to one summer's day when I worked at his office while his secretary, Bee, was on vacation.

"Come on," he said, "I'll take you to lunch." I thought we'd go to the Golden Lantern, a place down Laurel Canyon Boulevard, dark inside, with good steaks and spaghetti, or the Shakey's next door, because I love pizza. Instead, we drove ten minutes to a surprise destination. All he would tell me was that it was "special."

It was. A very special cafeteria. At least the senior citizens getting out of the bus in front must have thought so. Dad and I lowered the average age to seventy when we walked in. I remember lots of rounded chrome chairs, chrome counters, red/orange patent leather upholstery, and a black and white tiled floor. I think there was a mural too, a large abstract of lime green, bright turquoise and orange cut glass. (and no, I am NOT that old! It was retro.......or, probably, it hadn't been redone in all those years!!!)

I knew Dad was giving up the sports page for me, so that cheered me up! To tell you the truth, I was so happy to have Dad all to myself, I would have smiled if he'd taken me over to the office hotplate and we'd shared a Cup o'Soup, if it had been invented yet.
I followed Dad and the chink-chink noise that came from his keys bouncing in his pocket, up to the counters full of green jello, cold rolls, bowls of mashed potatoes and gravy and salad plates covered with plastic, He got serious, filled with awe. "Today, the special is stuffed peppers. Mmmmmm, they're real good here, Z." He introduced me to the lady behind the peppers. "Or, you can have any of the things down there, like tuna casserole, that's not too bad, real good short ribs, or rice with creamed chicken on it." We both had the stuffed peppers. And they were pretty good. It certainly wasn't the best food I ever ate, but, in some ways, it was the best lunch I ever had.

The only slightly uncomfortable moments Mom and Dad ever showed us in their very happy marriage were over the dinner table! Mom would have prepared her terrific beef stew, large chunks of beef dredged in flour before they hit the pan, carrots, potatoes, and celery (about the only time I like it cooked). She served it with fluffy white Parker House Rolls which were delicious when you sopped them in the thick gravy the flour helped create in the hours the stew simmered. It even got more scrumptious when you had put a little bit of butter on the roll first. The uncomfortable moment came when Dad would smile, then look sheepish. "I had beef stew at the cafeteria today, too." He didn't really mind, I'm sure, but he had to tease her because she always got grouchy and complained when he said that, as if she’d given him the same thing for Christmas that somebody else had, the surprise was ruined! Of course, he always said that Mom's stew, short ribs or corned beef and cabbage were better, and they definitely were.

In their forty-four years of marriage, Mom got Dad to actually like eggplant, avocadoes, only if they were in guacamole, fish (only bass, halibut, salmon and sand dabs), a little garlic in some things, some spicy sauces, and caviar, which was quite a feat considering the fact that one of his favorite snacks from his childhood was a piece of Weber's white bread with catsup on it.

The last thing Dad had, around eleven o'clock on the morning he died, was an ice cream float, he loved vanilla or strawberry ice cream with 7-up. After we got back from the hospital.... without him...... my numb brain took in the empty glass at the coffee table where he'd last put it down, the dried foam from the mixture of seven-up and ice cream still filmy on the glass. I took out the straw and I have it still, these 14 years later.

So, though Dad did love food, he wasn't what some people call a gourmet. But I'll bet those people can't get nearly as excited over stuffed peppers, spaghetti, beef stew, or catsup on Weber's bread, as he could. That's a gift. One he gave to me. As much as I love to cook exotic or time consuming recipes, people laugh that my favorite types of food are spaghetti and meatballs or macaroni and cheese. I proudly carry that gift, one of so many more important ones I got from my Dad, but I’m a foodie and wanted to share this particular gift today, on Father’s Day. I cherish that gift almost as much as I cherish that blue and white striped straw from that final vanilla float.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad……I love you as much now as I ever did.

And HAPPY FATHER'S DAY to all you fathers out there. For you young ones, remember that everything you say to your kids and do with your kids will be remembered, even the things you wouldn't have thought, like green Jello at the cafeteria. Make them good.

26 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hi Z,
I'd like to take this opportunity to wish Mr. Z a very Happy Father's Day. I know his children visited from Germany recently, and i'm sure he will be in their special thoughts and greetings today, as they will be in his. Happy Father's Day Mr. Z!

I enjoyed reading about your dad Z, and I know he has a special place in your heart. I, as you, no longer have my dad to buy a card amd gift for, or reminisce with, and laugh about old times and shared moments that only a good and loving father can provide.
We were after all, Daddy's girls. We both were so lucky to have them, and there will always be a part of us who reflect what our Dads were. I will always be grateful for that.

To all here who are Dads, a Happy Father's Day. Have a great one.

Pris

Anonymous said...

Thanks, Z. A marvelous tribute to your father.

David Schantz said...

Z, Great post. I do miss my Dad today. We didn't always agree, today I understand why he always seemed so hard on me. Fathers always love their kids. Happy Fathers Day to all you Dads.

God Bless America, God Save The Republic.

Anonymous said...

What a GREAT story, Zee. Thank you for sharing this glimse of a great Dad. I already like him! Besides, anyone who hates eggplant is okay in my book!

Semper Fi

Z said...

Pris, we sure were lucky girls!

fj...thanks, that means a lot to me. Happy Father's Day to YOU, too..xxx

David...we don't recognize WHY they're hard on us when they're around until we grow up and realize so much, right?


Mustang, as I'm getting to know you thru emails as well as posts and comments, I know Dad would have liked you, too......He'd especially have LOVED the line about EGGPLANT! (as did I!LOL!)

He had an amazing sense of humor BUT he resorted to awful puns like "having fish for the HALIBUT" ...or ironing because we had a "pressing problem". I used to tell him THAT is why I MOVED OUT at 21!!! (which I'm sorry I did, by the way........who knew!?) Dad did. xxx

Anonymous said...

Miss Z,
I have to tell you, your dad was on to something about eggplant.
Can't say as I like it, and I have tried it.

But reading about your dad, getting up, going to work and the places he ate at, just illustrated the big piece of Americana your dad gave you every day.

I enjoyed reading about him and his devotion to American food.

My dad is long gone, too and like you, I sure miss him on this Father's Day.

happy Father's Day to all who read this.

By the way, the first churh to observe Father's Day is right here in the little town I currently live in.

WVDOTTR

Anonymous said...

Z: Thanks for bringing back good memories of the great man that your father was, completely without any selfishness and always caring more about the wellbeing of others rather than his own. Greatness shows in little things more than anything else, and his down-to-earth attitude could not be better described than in your piece!

I wished I knew my own father as well as Tom, but it was not meant to be. So, I hope they met in the meantime up there and are having a good time. I miss him, and I miss Tom.

Thanks for your wishes, Pris! Both Z and I have a very good relationship with the "kids", but there is no official event to celebrate that - it is like the relationship with Z, special days are every day, no need for government or flower lobby organizations to organize our life. And that makes us lucky and blessed.

Mr.Z

The Merry Widow said...

Happy Father's Day to all you fathers, and blessed memories of the ones we can't be with!
Great writing, Z! You are so right, the time is more valuable than the places. "A morsel with peace and love is better than a feast with strife!"

tmw
And Mustang, eggplant has beautiful flowers...

CJ said...

Sweet piece of nostalgia, Z, thanks. And Happy Father's Day to all.

WomanHonorThyself said...

WHAT a lovely story hun..ty for sharing and to your Mr Z: HAPPY FATHERS DAY!!..:)

Karen Townsend said...

Such a wonderful story, Z. I was a Daddy's girl, too. My Dad was from the midwest, a real meat and potatoes kind of man. He insisted on canned vegetables, not fresh. Very successful in the real world, yet very simple in taste for his food. He would have been fast friends with your Dad.

I lost him all too young and I miss him on days like this.

Anonymous said...

What a beautiful tribute to your Dad.

Ottavio (Otto) Marasco said...

A wonderful post Z. I too recall the day I came home from hospital without my Dad and it still brings a tear to the eye. It wasn't that long ago actually.

Z said...

ai, I'm sorry you've gone through that, too. It's so HUGE. SO HUGE, the loss.

I'm grateful you all took the time to read this piece....it means a lot to me.

Thank you. xxx

MathewK said...

Thanks for sharing that with us Z.

Anonymous said...

That was really a great post "Z" thanks for sharing .
The good Memories are great on days like this.

nanc said...

i almost didn't get through this wonderful post, z. my eyes are puddling up right now.

this is my second father's day without my dad and i really miss him.

he LOVED all sorts of food and had to have hot sauce (his favorite tabasco) on EVERYTHING!

my sisters and i used to make him fudge for every special occasion from valentine's through christmas and for years and years, unbeknownst to each other, he was telling us that ours was the best fudge he'd ever eaten, but don't tell your sisters.

one day, three of us sisters were together and one said, "dad says i make the best fudge!" and in unison we said, "NO! dad says I make the best fudge!"

we soon came to realize telling us this to keep himself in fudge throughout the year! we never let on to him that we knew.

i brought this up at his funeral last year as one of the speakers and i told everyone that i was probably his favorite daughter because i made the best fudge - my sisters knew what i was talking about and laughed out loud. that was who he was - he wanted each of us to believe we were the favored daughter, but we eventually came to the realization he couldn't possibly have loved any of us better than the other.

your dad sounds like a hoot!

Anonymous said...

Well...you brought me to tears.
Funny what we remember of our Dads. My own, loved to make meatloaf or scrambled sandwiches .
Fresh blueberry pancakes on Sunday mornings after church and BBQ everything. Mom was a super gourmet cook who simply smiled through his
inventions in the kitchen. They were married 60 years.
Thanks Z for reminding this "Daddy's girl" of those
precious parts of the dad I loved so much and will miss forever.
Matisse

elmers brother said...

this was really sweet Z.

My own father like simple meals also. He LOVED spaghetti and spicy foods. (I think I inherited that from him)

Thanks for sharing him with us and Happy Fathers Day to Mr. Z.

CJ said...

My shy quiet Dad would have enjoyed your Dad I think, but your Dad reminds me a bit more of my Jewish uncle, who worked in Hollywood and also ate at a big cafeteria and sometimes took some of the nieces and nephews there. Was that Clifton's? My Dad and uncle shared the same birthday -- in different years -- which has always connected them in my mind though they were very different. My Dad was a Canadian who grew up on a ranch, on the simplest possible food, mostly home grown, and never ventured far from meat and potatoes and hot "porridge" that he often made himself for breakfast, after he came to the States. He also never lost his homesickness for Canada. His death was a terrible loss but it was years ago now, all the way back in the 60s.

Anonymous said...

Z, that is a most beautiful and moving tribute to your father.
I got hungry, cried, and laughed, all in one sitting!

What a sweet daddy!
What a sweet daughter!

You are beautiful, Z.

Z said...

Makes me emotional for all of you to have heard a little about my father and be moved by what you heard.
Thank you SO much....
I sure loved him.....very much. z

Anonymous said...

Charming, honest, affectionate, In short a lovely remembrance, and a gentle reminder that we don't have to share the same tastes in order to love someone very dearly.

Thank you.

Z said...

thank you, Anonymous...what a very kind comment. I'm glad you enjoyed it. please come again!

cube said...

I'm here late, but I'm glad I stopped by and read your wonderful tribute to your dad.

I'm fortunate to have my dad (coincidentally, he celebrated his 81st birthday this Father's Day) and all of his quirks, food & non-food alike. I think your post made me appreciate him all the more. Thanks.

Z said...

cube, if I could have done that with this post, I'm even more happy I did it.
Tell him how much you love him.

for me, cube. xxx