“Food is symbolic of love when words are inadequate.”Alan D. Wolfelt
I saw this photo of me and my Dad the other day, and it’s been on my mind ever since. It was taken on September 22, 2018 when my family gathered to celebrate my grandpa’s life on the 5th anniversary of his passing. Time with family, no matter how you came into his life, was what my grandpa always loved most.
I wanted to serve a dish that I remember my grandpa always loving; veal cutlets that are lightly fried and served over linguine with artichoke hearts, capers, crispy prosciutto and a lemony sauce. I distinctly remember my grandfather, sitting at the head of the table at my Dad’s house so many years ago with a goblet of red wine in front of him. Our family was gathered around the table and there was a large, shallow bowl in the middle of the table with so much veal and prosciutto on top that you never would have known that there was linguine underneath.
At some point in time, my Dad stopped making this dish and my Uncle Ben picked up where he left off, carrying the recipe on through the years. In the weeks leading up to the anniversary dinner, I consulted with both my Uncle and my Dad on the veal recipe. Truth be told, I was most looking forward to having them both there with me on the day of the dinner to help me finish the meal. To be cooking with them, making a dish that was theirs – one that my grandpa loved so much – was almost too much to handle.
All of that emotion floods back into my heart when I look at this photo, and you can see all that I was feeling that day when you look at my smile. Happiness. Love. Respect. They don’t even begin to cut it.
It’s that smile on my Dad’s face though that really just gets me. Quite honestly, there’s more that I see; more that I feel in that smile, than I could even begin to describe. It’s a matter of the memories in my heart that I will always hold on to.