My Father – My Best Friend

I have a very special and unique relationship with my father. I am an only child (obviously) and my parents separated when I was three years old. My father has remained single so when we visit it’s just the two of us. I have fond childhood memories with my father, we were always doing something fun and we were always eating. We spent summer days on the beach sun tanning, eating fried chicken, kielbasa, cheese and juicy nectarines. My father used a thick, dark tanning oil from Bain de Soleil, SPF 0. We would both get so dark in the summer; I am the female clone of my father. The smell of that tanning oil is engraved in my memory – a picture of a handsome, charismatic man and his little clone, lying greased up and dark brown attracting strangers to make two new friends. We are quite the pair.

 He drove me to B.C. We travel together. I’m his wedding date. He visits Toronto and my friends come over to drink and eat with us. My friends also come with me to spend the weekend at his country home – the ultimate getaway! He will spoil any guest rotten. He is generous. Funny. Compassionate. He is my best friend.

 My father is always cooking, partly because he is single; mostly because he has an incredible passion for food and creativity. He is the king of the BBQ and deep fries everything.  He has a hearty, country concept in the kitchen especially apparent in his homemade soups.

 My favourite things my father makes are his wings, BBQ ribs, deep fried whole chicken, beer can chicken, rum baked beans and local, deep fried perch sometimes  caught by my uncle Bob. My father can also make a mean (hangover cure) breakfast and sells BBQ sauce from his home; it’s that good. He appreciates tradition, admitting his mother is a terrible cook he ate and observed his friend’s mothers cooking techniques and has combined all their cultures in one style – his nickname, Gratzy.

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