Oh, the complaining. Every week I ask myself if it’s worth the free babysitting.
Him: Why can’t you just make real food when I come over?
Me: This is real food.
Him: No, REAL FOOD. Like hamburgers and French fries.
Me: You can get that anywhere. Plus, don’t you get sick of eating the same stuff all the time?
Him: No. At least I know I like it.
Me: You’ll like this.
(Which, for the record, was a somewhat manly version of bruschetta: crusty, garlicky bread with ricotta, chorizo, pickled onions, and frisée. But it was really light on the frisée, I swear.)
Him: I can’t even pronounce what you make half the time.
Me: You don’t have to pronounce it.
Him: Plus, it’s taking too long.
Me: It’s only been, like, ten minutes.
Him: Yeah, but it should only take 10 seconds from the time I walk into the kitchen until the time it hits my mouth. No longer than it takes to open a can.
Me: Wow, Dad. Them’s some high standards!
There it is, Michael Pollan. The “omnivore’s dilemma” in a nutshell.
I'd be awfully tempted to open a can of chicken noodle soup, dump it in a bowl, and then pop it into the microwave. Just once. To see what would happen. Also, the outcome would make a good follow-up to this post. Plus I'm easily entertained and it isn't my Dad.
Posted by: Ann | March 18, 2008 at 08:39 AM
Your post made me laugh this morning. I love my dad to bits but he starts tuning out when I talk about the relationship we have with our food. He'd happily pour boiling water over Lipton Cup-a-Soup most days of the week.
Posted by: Gillian | March 18, 2008 at 08:53 AM
Your dad's a hoot. And, yes, Campbell's soup would be just fine for him. And I'll bet he could even make it his OWN self. With some bruschetta on the side, of course.
Posted by: Sally | March 18, 2008 at 10:58 AM
Our dads are cut from the same cloth. Taco Bell is too ethnic for mine (but a Reser's beef and bean burrito with ketchup is tolerable).
Posted by: Heather | March 18, 2008 at 01:29 PM
The "manly bruschetta" sounds fantastic. But if it takes too long... how about some frozen fish fingers?
Posted by: Adele | March 18, 2008 at 01:43 PM
MISQUOTE!!! I said 90 seconds, not 10! Sometimes I have a little trouble with the electric can opener!
Posted by: Dad | March 18, 2008 at 02:16 PM
Dad: Misquotes are my specialty!
Adele: Gorton's fish tenders would make a fine working man's lunch.
Heather: How about leftover pizza? Though he did end up liking the bruschetta after all that.
Sally: Yes, he could definitely make canned soup himself. Then, it's settled. I'll leave a can and a can opener on the counter from now on.
Gillian: Maybe it's a generation thing?
Ann: Consider it done. I would tell him "save the drama for your mama," except you have no idea what he puts his mother through. Poor Nonni.
Posted by: Tammy | March 18, 2008 at 03:48 PM
heh... my dad was the same way. he lived on broccoli and cheese soup and spaghetti and meatballs.
also, he hated the enormous portions served in american restaurants, and once ordered "2 pieces of rye bread, 2 slices of ham and 1 slice of cheese" at a diner.
Posted by: michelle @ TNS | March 19, 2008 at 05:50 PM