I recently put out the question: Did your dad ever make breakfast? I got some pretty wonderful answers. A sampling:
"My dad is one of those who doesn't normally know how to find the refrigerator. But when my mom is out of town and he's on his own, he makes himself amazing omelettes. I don't know how he learned to make them. He's never made one for any other living soul as far as I know. I amount of pleading will do it. He only makes them for himself when he's alone in the house."
"A couple of times a week, we'd get my dad's famous prune juice cocktail: a tall glass of chilled prune juice with cream gently poured in to form a beautiful spiraling cloud. Like a White Russian, but for kids."
"My dad made killer scrambled eggs. He said that they were so good because he sang "Yankee Doodle" while he was scrambling."
"My (Jewish) dad regularly made breakfast omelettes shaped like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer with a dollop of grape jelly on the nose."
"My dad did not make breakfast but my grandfather made the most amazing onions and eggs. He would cook Spanish onions in a ton of butter for two or three hours, torturing us with the smell of slowly caramelizing onions. And then he would whisk eggs and cream cheese together and pour that over the long cooked onions. It was the most glorious thing."
One of my favorite replies came from the delightful author Crescent Dragonwagon - she of the greatest name ever - who said: "My father's breakfast contribution was freshly squeezed orange juice. Once he would make it, he would cover each glass and stand at the foot of the stairs, yelling up to us who were still sleeping, "Hurry up, the vitamins are escaping!"
Happy Father's Day, and here's to all the goofy dads.
* Did your dad make breakfast? Go ahead, tell me about it.