Father Tongue

via FoodTwit

My father was an Iowa native, child of a meat and potatoes culture more or less untouched by the canned-soup-casserole revolution, and set many of our food expectations. Vegetables were considered suspicious but necessary elements of the meal, and to be rendered safe by vigorous and long cooking. Meat was a gift to the table, and cooked with care. More importantly, somewhere along the line he’d tripped over the holy trinity of James Beard, Craig Claiborn and Julia Child, and had converted to francophilia. Perhaps it was in college, hotbed of all radical thought. I can imagine him flambéing crepes while others were setting fire to the ROTC building.