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I made a roast with a turkey gravy today
Not my usual Wednesday behaviour. In fact, I& #39;ve never made turkey gravy before in my life. But I did today
Because it& #39;s my father& #39;s birthday. The first one since he died in April, of #Covid19
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Not my usual Wednesday behaviour. In fact, I& #39;ve never made turkey gravy before in my life. But I did today
Because it& #39;s my father& #39;s birthday. The first one since he died in April, of #Covid19
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Odd thing to do to mark the occasion, maybe. But I promise, it isn& #39;t
My dad was obsessed with gravy. Like, pathologically so. He was the king of it. He& #39;d do & #39;practice& #39; gravies (plural) at Christmas. He didn& #39;t mess around, to say the least
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My dad was obsessed with gravy. Like, pathologically so. He was the king of it. He& #39;d do & #39;practice& #39; gravies (plural) at Christmas. He didn& #39;t mess around, to say the least
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A few years back he got a hot tub in the garden, one of those big deluxe models. And I always had a genuine concern that I& #39;d go down one day and it would have been full of gravy
Would have kept it warm, at least
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Would have kept it warm, at least
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As you can imagine, given all the time and effort he spent on it, Dad& #39;s gravy was of legendary quality. You could (and he often did) drink it neat. It was a glorious meaty ambrosia.
And he always told me turkey gravy was the best
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And he always told me turkey gravy was the best
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Annoyingly, that& #39;s ALL he told me about it. Wouldn& #39;t give away his recipes or gravy-making methods. I asked him for the recipe one Christmas when I was cooking and he fobbed me off with a Jamie Oliver one
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Didn& #39;t even tell me it wasn& #39;t his usual recipe until February. He hadn& #39;t even tried it himself, he just & #39;thought it looked decent& #39;, so used me as a Guinea Pig to see how it went.
He never shared his methods, the prideful sod
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He never shared his methods, the prideful sod
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And now, he& #39;s gone. And while it& #39;s a minor thing compared to everything, his gravy has gone with him. And that& #39;s a shame.
And it& #39;s his birthday today. So, I figured the best way to honour him would be... to make gravy.
It makes sense in context
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And it& #39;s his birthday today. So, I figured the best way to honour him would be... to make gravy.
It makes sense in context
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I& #39;ll probably do it every year on Dad& #39;s birthday, to gradually improve, to try to eventually make a gravy as good as his. He& #39;d like that
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Thing is, I& #39;ll probably never succeed in making a gravy as good as Dad& #39;s, and I KNOW he& #39;ll like that. He was relentlessly competitive, and seeing me fall short of his standard would amuse him greatly
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That& #39;s the thing about grief. It& #39;s often shown to involve flowers and ceremonies and religious rituals. But much of the time, you work through it and pay tribute in individual ways, like experimenting with meat-based liquids.
If it feels right, then it is right.
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If it feels right, then it is right.
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So now, weirdly, it seems I& #39;ve appointed myself an impossible life goal of making the ultimate turkey gravy, in honour of my old man.
Happy birthday, Dad. It is ON!
Happy birthday, Dad. It is ON!
