Dinner for the past few weeks has been an assortment of family favorites as we grapple with the sudden and unexpected loss of my dear sweet dad. The blessing of a painless passing is not something to be ungrateful for, and yet the loss has left us reeling. My dad loved food, but even more than that, he loved to feed people. So remembrance of him involves food as a given, alongside everything else wonderful he embodied.
We have eaten his favorite (divey) seekh kababs, picked up around the corner right after a service, along with naans from the “naan guy” down the same alley (yep, because the naan at the kabab place is nowhere near as good, always two separate stops), and all his home favorites including a labor-intensive “ball” (kofta Anglo-Indian style) curry he acquired a taste for at a childhood friend’s home 80-odd years ago. Each meal, we discuss whether this was a “good” version that he would have enjoyed, and as it turns out every one has been (the kababs last time were sub-par and so he called the owner and ask who was at the grill… this time, he must have been supervising from above, because they were perfect).
I have ground his beloved shami kababs twice (a labor of love, and one of the most-hated kitchen tasks in existence, also a blender/processor-killer), the second time because mom wanted my brother to eat them before he left, and he dutifully carried them in sandwiches for the flight. Flight sandwiches were my dad’s “thing”: whether he flew first, business, or economy, he always packed sandwiches for the flight, which he would proudly declare and almost always share, whether with flight staff (he was a consummate charmer) or a neighboring passenger. One trip back from NYC, we forgot the steak sandwiches he was so looking forward to in the fridge in the last-minute rush to the airport; now our departure check is “passport, wallet, keys, SANDWICHES”. And so, the tradition continues.
So much food, but no pictures, because while we are eating his favorites to keep him close, my interest in documenting is on temporary hiatus. Not for too long, I imagine, because Dad wouldn’t like that. He always wanted to know what was eaten, whether it tasted good, how it was sourced / who recommended it, and whether it would be repeated. I hope we can do justice to his legacy, food and beyond. (Thanks for indulging the cathartic ramble.)
