Offspring are typically a balanced blend of both parents, but we all know I’m way more you than Mom. On this Father’s Day I’m especially grateful for all you’ve passed on to me.
You taught me to fish. With that Boston Whaler of yours we spent weekends snaking through swampy rivers and bumping over salty white caps. Thanks for making me bait my own hook.
You didn’t shield me from life. Whether it was taking me to a pig slaughtering or an open-casket funeral, you saw it as a part of life I should experience at an early age.
You let me drive young! When I was really young you let me sit in your lap and steer the wheel.When I was tall enough to reach the pedals you let me drive on deserted country roads. The day I got my license, we were both proud as I confidently pulled out of the driveway.
You loved a little naughty. We all know that my reputation for salty jokes and colorful language most definitely didn’t come from Mom. I’m afraid you’re gonna have to take credit for this one.
You demanded my best. I remember the report card with one B too many. Never again! Oh, and thanks for not paying me for my A’s.
You knew the difference between the week and the weekend. As an entrepreneur in the internet era, I struggle separating work and pleasure. Thanks to you, I at least know what an eight-hour workday with weekends off looks like.
You taught me to seek work I loved. Because you didn’t love yours so much, you wanted to make sure I did. Many thanks for this.
You exemplified faithfulness in relationships. Mom says your marriage “gets sweeter and sweeter everyday.” Neither of us buys the everyday part, but a good marriage does get sweeter over time. Thank you for nearly 64 sweet years with Mom.
You passed on your love of the grill. From you I gained confidence with both charcoal and gas. I also loved our grill talks. It was there we could speak freely and honestly as you brushed the chicken and flipped the ribs.
You taught me to love good food with gusto. I happily struggle with weight in exchange for my love of great food. That, dear Dad, I owe to you.
P.S. All those aches and pains and other issues of yours…I’m getting those too.
- 1 9-inch pre-baked pie shell
- 10 tablespoons plus ½ cup granulated sugar, divided
- ¼ cup, plus 1 tablespoon cornstarch, divided
- 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
- Pinch salt
- 5 large eggs, separated
- 1 can (12 ounces) evaporated milk
- 1 cup whole or 2% milk
- 4 ounces bitter- or semi-sweet chocolate, coarsely chopped or broken
- 2 tablespoons butter
- 1½ teaspoons vanilla extract
- ¼ teaspoon cream of tartar
- Prepare and bake pie shell; set aside.
- Meanwhile, adjust oven rack to lower-middle position and heat oven to 325 degrees. Whisk 10 tablespoons of the sugar, ¼ cup of the cornstarch, cocoa powder, and salt in a medium saucepan. Whisk in yolks, and then immediately, but gradually whisk in milks. Cook over medium heat, stirring frequently at first, and then constantly as mixture starts to thicken and begins to sputter, 8 to 10 minutes. Whisk chocolate and butter into thickened pudding until melted, about 1 minute longer; off heat stir in 1 teaspoon of the vanilla.
- Meanwhile, bring remaining 1 tablespoons of cornstarch and ⅓ cup water to a thick, sputtery, translucent state in a small saucepan, whisking occasionally at first and constantly as mixture thickens. Remove from heat and let cool slightly while beating whites.
- Beat egg whites, cream of tarter, and remaining ½ teaspoon of vanilla until frothy. Gradually beat in remaining ½ cup of sugar until incorporated and mixture forms soft peaks. Dollop in warm cornstarch mixture, 1 tablespoon at a time; continue to beat meringue to stiff peaks.
- Pour warm chocolate filling into pie shell. Using a rubber spatula immediately distribute and then spread meringue evenly over pie, making sure it attaches to piecrust to prevent shrinking. Use a spoon to create peaks all over meringue. Bake pie until meringue is golden brown, about 20 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack and cool to room temperature. Serve or refrigerate until ready to serve.
Kathy Belden says
I could have written a similar post-I am more like my Dad, as well. What a lovely tribute to your Dad. I enjoy your blog!
What an honest and beautiful tribute to your Dad. I always remember you imitating your dad when it was time to eat — “Lez eat”! And I’m also making that pie — YUM!!!
Oh, Mom. This post reminds me of so many (and there are many!) reasons I love Papa! His amazing laugh, his relaxed pace in life, the way he cuts BIG pieces of cake and pie for us all, and all those hours we spent fishing. He and I have had our share of grill talks, and a few salty jokes too 🙂
It also reminds me why I love OUR dad 🙂 It’s funny–Dad let us drive early, too. First just the wheel, then the pedals, too!
And, for the record, I’m with Papa, this might be my favorite pie. That or coconut cream…but it’s close!
Mom, this is such a lovely tribute to Papa! I could add about 100 things to this list, but I think you hit all the important points 🙂 And yes, Papa made us bait our own hooks too. Gross!
And to say that I love this pie is an understatement!
Pam – Your niece’s husband down here in Tennessee is here as I write this doing a window job for us. As we talked, it came up that we were having a little party for bloggers on Sunday and he told me about your blog, so I just stopped by to check it out and say hi. I’m sure we’ve seen your recipes in the weekend magazine and perhaps Cook’s Illustrated. When I was a kid and had a pie option it was always chocolate and I still like it – yours looks delicious and makes me want a slice right now.
Love your Dad, Pam. Both of your parents are wonderful examples of decent honest hardworking Americans. Your mother is one of my role models. They are the sweetest couple.
What a sweet tribute to your Dad. He sounds like a wonderful man and father. Give him an extra hug ’cause you never know. This will be our first Father’s Day without Daddy.
Pam, I remember when you were very young and my father told you that you were just like you dad. You started crying because you thought he was saying you looked like a boy. Now you know what he meant. Love you
How cool is that, Gwen, that your dad saw my dad in me when I was that young. Wow! Thanks for sharing that story, dear cuz. Love you too!
Made this tonight for my husband’s 2nd Father’s Day. Delish. Thanks for sharing your wonderful Dad with me. I am 38 and still a Daddy’s girl at heart.