Father's Day

So what to cook for Father’s Day? Pork belly sliders have been all the rage for the last few years. Made über popular by food dude David Chang of Momofuko fame, this dish has popped up on menus throughout the US. And we know the French and the Germans also love their various preparations of this cherished cut of swine. However, truth be told, this deliciously rich delectable treat has been cooked in China for eons.

But certain restaurants exploit the average human being’s addiction to fatty pork – you know which ones I’m talking about – these joints know their patrons can’t get enough of that heavenly mix of tangy sweet fatty meat all sauced up in basically a fancy hamburger roll, so they price these little ditties as if they were serving Kobe beef (even though belly is rarely more than 3 bucks a pound, if that.)

I have never purchased a Father’s Day card...never had to! Once, I jokingly told my mother I was going to give her a Father’s Day card, as she served as both my mom and dad, but she asked me to buy her a Manhattan instead. She was a great ol’ broad! Jim Beam 1, Hallmark 0.

My father left the family before I could remember him ever being a part of it, so two capable women – my mother and grandmother raised me. There were only a few times while growing up that I felt an uncomfortable absence of a father in my daily life, yet I harbored no ill feelings toward that “missing person.”

That can of worms was opened on June 5th, 1987, the day I became the father of a beautiful baby boy, named Matthew, and when resentment and deep disappointment toward my father bubbled to the surface. How could anyone not want to be a part of something as special and important as caring for his child?

Feeling unprepared for fatherhood and seeking the wisdom I was certain I’d missed without a “man around the house,” I joined a men’s group called “Sons Without Fathers.” After my very first session the moderator took me aside and told me how lucky I was that my dad wasn’t around. The rest of the “father-less bunch” had had their sperm donors living in their homes with them, but were emotionally absent. They were there and yet not there, which I can imagine is even more hurtful. I left the group a couple sessions later feeling sympathy for the men, but not enough in common to stay. Plus, I came to realize it’s not about the proximity, but rather input.