COOKING WITH DAD

COOKING WITH DAD

After Mum's passing, we are using the kitchen as a way of dealing with our grief.

Mum was a terrific cook. I was so jealous of friends who said they’d had pizza for dinner, because we only ever had healthy, balanced meals that were made from scratch with organic ingredients. I know; awful, right? She was a formidable cook, managing to make something out of nothing every evening, and as creative as she was controlling: woe betide the unfortunate soul who tried to tell Mum how to chop an onion or to add more salt to her sauce.

Dad never had to lift a finger in the kitchen, which was probably a good thing because he only ever made me and my brother one meal: fried egg and toast. To this day, I can remember the sight of the almost raw yolk running all over the slightly charred toast. It was soul destroying. Dad was banned from the kitchen after that, which suited him and Mum just fine.

Mum passed away unexpectedly. We are beyond devastated, trying to navigate our way through this thick fog of grief. Her absence is everywhere, but where we feel it the most is in the kitchen. After 45 years of home-cooked meals, Dad has been surviving on take-aways and heavily processed ready meals. He lives nearby, has a wide circle of friends and is often invited out for dinner, but when he is left to his own devices, he reaches for the take-away menu or shoves a salt-laden ready-meal-for-one in the microwave. 

Dad is willing to learn how to cook, but has no clue where to begin. While I will never match my Mum’s talents in the kitchen (her Sunday roast was truly a thing of wonder), I have found cooking to be therapeutic. It makes me feel closer to Mum and gives me something tangible to do with my idle hands.  

So we are cooking together, Dad and I, one meal at a time. Nothing too complicated, not too many ingredients. But easy, tasty meals that are quick to prepare and can be tweaked to suit his demanding palate. I have no doubt Mum is watching over us, tutting at the way we’re chopping an onion or seasoning a sauce, but I’m equally sure she’s quietly proud to see Dad cooking his way back to life.