Thinking about my father, Bartholomew John Adragna, especially today, Father's Day!
I owe so much of what I am, and so much of what I love to this man, who despite being 'on the road' as a traveling salesman so much of my youth, has left an indelible mark upon my life, my loves, and my talents, especially regarding food preparation, and creating in general.
I owe my love for and ability with food, to my father who always showed deep respect, even reverence, for the ingredients that he used. I never recall him using 'short-cut' methods, or using anything remotely ready-made. I do recall him using the freshest ingredients possible, and he always seemed to exude a love for what he was using...and for the finished products. I do not recall anything he ever made that was not beautiful and delicious, except of course for squid, which I simply could not even pick up with a fork. He never, as I recall, used a recipe, but conjured up his artistic dishes from his soul. No holds barred where food was concerned. We may have gone without a lot in our childhood, but food was never skimped upon.
I owe my love for creating to my father, whose creative outlets were food, the saxophone, and the fact that he could sing. (Unfortunately, among all of the 'gifts' that were bestowed on me, singing just was not one of them.) He couldn't help himself from creating, and he loved the process, I think even more than the end product, which is how I feel as well. Give this man an audience and a mike, and he'd bellow out a song in his beautiful, deeply rich baritone. Give him a saxophone and without the aid of sheet music, he could wail out some lonesome jazz piece or a jitterbug special. No saxophone available at some Italian wedding??? Loan him the trumpet and he'd blow you to pieces.
It has been a very long time since my father passed away as way to young a man...and though I miss him, he is never far from me, my kitchen, and my creations.
I owe so much of what I am, and so much of what I love to this man, who despite being 'on the road' as a traveling salesman so much of my youth, has left an indelible mark upon my life, my loves, and my talents, especially regarding food preparation, and creating in general.
I owe my love for and ability with food, to my father who always showed deep respect, even reverence, for the ingredients that he used. I never recall him using 'short-cut' methods, or using anything remotely ready-made. I do recall him using the freshest ingredients possible, and he always seemed to exude a love for what he was using...and for the finished products. I do not recall anything he ever made that was not beautiful and delicious, except of course for squid, which I simply could not even pick up with a fork. He never, as I recall, used a recipe, but conjured up his artistic dishes from his soul. No holds barred where food was concerned. We may have gone without a lot in our childhood, but food was never skimped upon.
I owe my love for creating to my father, whose creative outlets were food, the saxophone, and the fact that he could sing. (Unfortunately, among all of the 'gifts' that were bestowed on me, singing just was not one of them.) He couldn't help himself from creating, and he loved the process, I think even more than the end product, which is how I feel as well. Give this man an audience and a mike, and he'd bellow out a song in his beautiful, deeply rich baritone. Give him a saxophone and without the aid of sheet music, he could wail out some lonesome jazz piece or a jitterbug special. No saxophone available at some Italian wedding??? Loan him the trumpet and he'd blow you to pieces.
It has been a very long time since my father passed away as way to young a man...and though I miss him, he is never far from me, my kitchen, and my creations.
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