Food
My dad was ahead of his time – except when it came to cooking

My dad was ahead of his time – except when it came to cooking

Despite his dreadful wurst omelette, my father taught me a great deal – not least how to be a good dadRecently, my eldest messaged me a photograph from the kitchen of his student house. It was of a bowl of ramen. There were the curling noodles, like cross-stitch, bobbing in a broth the colour of copper coins. There were the sliced spring onions and halved boiled egg, the yolk still running, the outside of the white fully bronzed from its long rest in a soy-based marinade. There was no commentary; no “Look what I made” or “Fancy some?”. There didn’t need to be.It was a father-son thing. The two of us have eaten so much ramen together over the years, argued over the finer details of what makes a good one and laughed uproariously at the bad, that he knew I’d get it. He’d made his own ramen and he wanted me to see it. Obviously, I celebrated my glorious parenting skills. I had passed on the baton of fatherly enthusiasm. I’d given him both a love of the good stuff and a desire to make it for himself. Go me. Continue reading...

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