Daddy Cool

A postcard with a picture of the famous Stonehenge ( giant rocks arranged in a circle in the UK) arrived in the mail three days ago. 

It was my daughter’s Father’s Day greeting for my hubby.  “You rock!”, she scribbled on the back of the picture. 

I smiled at her attempt to capture in just two words what her dad is to her.  This in turn lead me to think about my own dad.  What sort of a father was he and what he meant to me.

My father has been gone for more than 30 years and I go back to that time when he was a very big part of my life.

He was not an affectionate man.  I cannot remember him ever giving me a tight hug or a kiss on the cheek. I was later told that being affectionate was not a trait found in his family. But I could expect a nice pat on the back when he was pleased. 

He was always calm and collect.  When my mother went into hysterics, he remained calm. When I needed to sort out muddled things about life, he was the calm harbor where I found my answers.  

He longed for a son but they (2 of them) were to come 10 years after his first three daughters.  

I remember how he would teach my sisters and me how to play poker. We were required to take notes on the difference between a flash, a straight and a full house. I never got it right.

He was always polite.  And he expected that of us as well reminding us to always treat everyone with respect.  I recall getting scolded for being rude to our helper. 

“They are human beings and have feelings just like you”, he admonished.

He never spanked me or my siblings. Instead, he left the disciplining to my mother— an expert with the use of the slipper on our behind. 

“Why can’t you act like civilized people and discuss your problem?”, he would always say to us kids when we would be found rolling on the floor pulling on each others hair. 

And when words were just not enough, he conceded that we could hit each other on the arm or leg but never on the head. 

He never exerted pressure on me to excel at school.  He was rather lenient and did not check on us.  But he gave me a long lecture on how important it was to finish school. One time I brought home a failing mark of 73 in Pilipino during my elementary years.  He said future employer would not hire me if I did not shape up.  This remark did it for me and I poured all my energy to try my best.  Even when I got excellent marks on my college subjects, I was still haunted with the thought that my elementary records would be required by prospective employers.

But again, when the time came, my father did not exert pressure for me to find a job.

“As long as I can take care of you, you can just stay at home”, was his constant assurance.

When I was allowed to receive boys at home, it was my father who received them and even offer them a drink.  He reasoned that the true character of a man can be soon revealed once he got a drink or two in him.  My mother, who grew up in a conservative home, was more aloft and distant to these visitors. 

The memories of my father are precious.  Writing about my father is my way of bringing him close to me.  It is now the only way I can express how much I loved him and how grateful I am to have had him as my dad.

If like my daughter, I were to use only two words to describe my dad, it would be: Mr. Cool.

-----xoxoxoxox-----

My father worked as a company man all his life.  He was the sales manager of an ice cream distribution company. One of the perks of the job was that we had a seemingly limitless supply of ice cream. A second perk was that the company paid for membership at an exclusive club plus a monthly allowance for meals at the club.

Every so often, he would treat my mother, siblings and I to a formal dinner at the club. In his own way, he wanted us to savor the finer things in life that he would not have been able to afford on his own. On those nights, we dressed up and behaved as we learned to put a linen napkin on our lap, used the spoon only for the soup, and managed our dinner with a fork and a knife.

Many times my father would order a Salsbury steak (a fancy name for a hamburger topped with a fried egg)  for himself while we all ordered sizzling steaks with all the fixings. It is only now that I realize that his order was one of the cheapest entrée in the menu. I guess he wanted us to enjoy our treat to the fullest while at the same time tried to keep the total cost of the dinner down.

So in honor of my cool dad, I would like to share with you a recipe for Salsbury steak.  You’ll be mopping up your plate with your bread or rice.  It’s that delicious.

Salsbury Steak ala Curly Cook

Hamburger: ( You can use your own recipe)

1/3 kilo ground sirloin (beef)

¼ kilo ground lean pork

1 egg

½-1 t mustard (a squirt)

1-2 T Worcestershire sauce

1 onion, chopped and quickly sautéed

3 cloves garlic

Salt and pepper to season

 

Mix all the ingredients in a bowl and knead with your hands… the only way to mix well.  Use disposable plastic gloves if you must.  Take a ball size of the mixture and pat according to desired shape.   

Punch a hole with you finger in the middle of the patty.  This is a trick I learned to ensure quick and even doneness of the burger. 

 Pan fry in a mixture of oil and butter.  Set aside. (The hole will close up when the burger is cooked thru)

 

Sauce:

1 onion, cut into rings

1c beef broth  (may use half a beef broth cube dissolved in 1 c water)

1 tablespoon ketchup
1 teaspoon mustard
4 dashes Worcestershire
1-2 t cornstarch, dissolved in 1-2 t of water (optional )
Salt and pepper

Saute the onions in a little olive oil.  Add the rest of the ingredients (except for the cornstarch) and bring to a simmer.  Add the cornstarch slurry and continue to simmer until sauce thickens (make more slurry if sauce is not thick enough to your liking).

Arrange your burgers in a platter and top with the sauce.  Enjoy with crusty hot bread, mush potatoes or steamed rice.