It was one year ago today that my father passed on. He was 78 years old, amazing the doctors with his relatively healthy lungs for someone who had smoked for 60 years, and I had thought he was on his way to at least 85. But these things do happen and they did.
I dedicate my first post in four months to him. Let's kick it off with Ol' Dad's top five favorite dishes.
-----
#5: Pineapple Coleslaw
My dad had a weird fascination with KFC's coleslaw. Where some might go for their greasy but delicious fried chicken or excellent mashed potatoes and gravy, it was this cold dish of chopped cabbage and mayo that kept him coming back. When I found a recipe for pineapple slaw on a Family Circle recipe card, I thought it was perfect substitute. Low-fat with just enough sweetness (Dad had a notorious sweet tooth) and crunchy cabbage, what could go wrong? I soon found out.
Though this was requested weekly, and though Dad extolled the virtues of its flavor, it lacked only one thing to him: the perfect size. Try as I might, week after week, no matter how precise with the knife or zealous with the food processor, I could never get my cabbage into the same size as those little KFC squares of goodness to please him. Some days it would be like little pieces of confetti, other times it was pebbles and sand. It was just no go. Defeated, I came to terms with the fact that my pineapple coleslaw would just taste better than it looked.
Or so I thought.
One day, I innocently stopped by KFC for a pint of coleslaw to accompany some pork chops I was making for dinner. I was feeling a little lazy and I didn't want to spend time chopping imperfect cabbage when I need to focus on pork. On the drive home, without any provocation, the late Col. Sander's started mocking me.
"Trah tuh replicate mah cabbage, girl? Nevuh, t'ain't nevuh gonnuh happen, y'heah? You should know bettah than tuh mess with the Colonel!"
It was a shocking, if not inspiring experience. With all respect for the troops, nothing grinds my gears like a military man telling me what I can or cannot do. I knew what needed to be done.
Once I got home, I pried the plastic lid off its styrofoam prison and tossed the slaw into a colander. I washed that cabbage so hard, I could hear it squeak in surrender. With a kind of almost malice, I added my dressing and pineapple. I paired it with those pork chops and yes, I served it.
Readers, it was delicious.
Never in the the history of man had the world seen such a slaw, and perhaps never will they again. The sounds of crunching drowned out the voices of any indignant Southern ghosts, crying that I'd pay for my thievery. We paid no heed.
For now, it was dinner time.
Stealing the Colonel's Cabbage
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 raving lunatics:
Post a Comment