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Dads Eat the Darnedest Things

by Hal Reichardt

Leftovers rarely inspire people, but with the right kind of philosophy they can be very satisfying. I know, because I'm a Dad, and Dads get to eat everything that nobody else wants.

My own father set a formidable precedent for me in this regard. He had an old-world taste in foods that was painful to observe. I'm glad I'll never have to meet the first person that thought pickling pig's feet and putting them in a jar for later would be a good idea. And whoever decided to stuff their leftover bait from a fishing trip in a can and call it sardines must have been a desperate man with a knack for marketing. There was also something called headcheese, which looked like baloney that got fouled up in the transporter when it was beamed from another planet into our refrigerator. I may not be much of a dairy farmer, but I know real cheese when I see it.

The closest I come to this high standard of leftovers is cold pizza. It does look funny, but many foods that seem appetizing on the first date look dreadful the next morning. Don't let this stop you. Just revitalize those leftovers in a microwave oven. (I've never figured out what a microwave really is, but I suspect it's a code word for unsupervised radiation.)

When I was practicing to be a Dad, I had to eat cold leftovers or find another, more time-consuming way to heat them up. Bring back the old black skillet and a dollop of butter. There isn't a leftover on earth that can resist its spell. Everything you put in there comes out tasting good.

Why do Dads get to have all the fun with leftovers? I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with paying the bills. When you see how much money is going out the door every week for groceries you begin to appreciate the notion of "waste not, want not."

When I was young I never liked peas and refused to eat them. My reward for such steadfastness was to hear my parents remind me "there are starving people in this world who would give their right arm for those peas" at least once a week. I finally stopped that refrain by stuffing a Salisbury steak and some cold peas into an envelope and mailing it overseas. I got the letter returned to me for an insufficient food pyramid, but at least I tried. (There just wasn't room in there for a cherry cobbler.)

Unfortunately, when you are seven years old your options for helping the malnourished are limited. This is where Dad hood can help. The more food you waste when you're young, the more unresolved guilt you build up. When you finally become a Dad, you have the rest of your life to atone for the
sins of your youth by making sure that nothing goes to waste.

Don't count on your family for any help erasing your karmic debt to the starving people of the world. Help with leftovers only comes when it is not wanted. But I don't object to the children scooping me on the really good leftovers because I know I'm slowly pulling them in the right direction. Start the kids out on little white boxes of Chinese food and let them think they're pulling a fast one on dear old Dad. Before they know it they'll be all grown up and warming up leftovers in a black skillet, happy to have a second chance.