The story of how I fell in love with food and cooking isn’t super uncommon, but it's special to me, and something I felt was worth sharing.

I’ve had a lot of time to think over the past couple of months, especially about food. Cooking and baking have helped pass the time and I’ve found myself spending a lot of time thinking about food more deeply. That’s part of what has motivated me to push myself to try to make a career in food because I just can’t imagine a life without it, in my career and personal life.

As Father’s Day rolled around last weekend, I found myself thinking about all of the stuff my dad and I share, namely a love of food. I missed his charcoal-grilled meats, the fancy alcoholic drinks he makes for me, and watching Food Network late at night. But I found myself missing him even more because he’s the reason that I fell in love with food and cooking the way I have, and I realized I’ve never truly thanked him, or explained this to others. It’s something I’ve been meaning to put into words for a long time, but I haven’t quite been able to yet. It’s just something that’s been there, that I don’t really think about consciously all the time. But when I took time to think about it, I realized that a lot of my thought processes when it comes to cooking, and my food know-how, has come from my dad.

Growing up, my dad and I spent a lot of time together in the kitchen. At first, it was more just me watching him make stuff, amazed at how he kind of just threw things together, knew what spices to use, and somehow everything he made turned out great. Eventually, we started cooking and baking stuff together.

We used to make a recipe for chicken enchiladas that used Campbell’s Cream of Chicken Soup as the base. It was less traditional, but super creamy and good. Eventually, this became a thing that I would make for my family for dinner after I got home from school. My parents were usually still at work, or on their way home, so if I could start dinner, or make something myself, I would.

At first, I was WAY too intimidated to make these by myself. I remember being so stressed because it seemed like there were so many steps. But then I watched my dad make them. He’d lay out all the tortillas on the countertop, trim off the edges so that the rolled-up enchiladas would fit perfectly in the dish (and we always got a fun little snack in the process). Then, he’d use a cookie scoop to distribute the filling. Maybe I didn’t need to worry so much, but dad did.

My mom was always more carefree when cooking. She followed recipes and sometimes put her own spin on things, and everything she made always tasted so good. But I watched my dad be a perfectionist when it came to his cooking, using the right techniques and always making everything look perfect. I didn’t understand why at first.

He doesn’t always follow recipes either. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve seen him follow a “recipe” which was really just his own handwritten notes from stuff he’d picked up from other chefs or a combination of recipes. He always went that extra little step that maybe the average home chef wouldn’t, but he did.

As I watched him more and more, he’d correct me when I was doing something wrong, I’d get annoyed but not show it. It seemed like there were so many rules. But eventually I found myself wanting to know all of these techniques and why you do them. Sift the flour in certain recipes because it would lead to a better texture. When you make cupcakes or cake and it comes to icing them, do a thin layer of icing and then let it dry before putting on the rest so that there would be no loose crumbs on the final layer.

I eventually took the initiative and started to make stuff for the fun of it. There always seemed to be a point I got to in the recipe that I’d get stuck on (that really, I probably could have done), but I didn’t trust myself not to mess it up. I’d call dad in, he’d show me the right way to do it. I’d be annoyed, frustrated at myself because I wanted to be able to do it alone. But I think eventually, I just started liking him coming in to help because then we were doing it together and it was fun because I knew we both shared the same level of care and love of food.

He’s just such an effortless home chef, has always learned on his own, no schooling or anything, picking stuff up from cooking shows and elsewhere. Food excites him and he always wants to learn more, and I realized, that’s exactly who I am now too, because of him.

When I come home now, we make stuff together, like actually together, and sometimes I even get to correct him or show him a new technique. We make these amazing Pioneer Woman waffles that are light, fluffy, cinnamony and so, so good. You whip the egg whites and then carefully fold them into the batter to retain their whipped structure so the waffle gets that light and fluffy texture. At first, he had to show me how to do this process right, from whipping to folding, but now (and trust me, I struggle) but I know how to do it right. I whip the eggs enough, and although I probably do know when is the right time to stop whipping, I always ask. I know how careful I have to be when folding them in, but I always make sure he watches me.

Thinking about all of this has me appreciate my love of food and cooking so much more, because I know where it comes from. Without my dad, I wouldn’t have such a personal connection and love of food, and I wouldn’t have this thing that is so special in my life.

When I go home now, I’m not thinking really thinking about all the stuff I want to do outside of the house around my hometown. I’m thinking of a cool recipe dad and I can make together. I’ll send it to him, ahead of the trip, get his seal of approval, and now we both have this thing we can look forward to together.

It’s hard being so far from my family, seeing them months apart at a time. But at least, I know dad and will have something in between that we can look forward to. And I love that and I can’t thank him enough for helping to shape the person I am today.