A Father's Day Thank You

About author / Lauren Braun Costello

The competent cook; food stylist; cooking instructor; graduate French Culinary Institute. To die for dish? Maple glazed bacon wrapped roast turkey. Yep, bacon wrapped.

Father’s Day is this Sunday, so it’s time for me to thank that man in my life who had such a profound culinary influence on me: Grandpa Ted. From as far back I can remember, my grandfather and I have spent time together in the kitchen. Whether it was preparing gefilte fish together for Passover, or reviewing a recipe in detail while enjoying a meal á deux, my grandfather and I have always had a gastronomic partnership.

Cuisine is one of our favorite subjects. We love sharing stories--and food--with each other. He calls me every day and asks enthusiastically, “So, what are you cooking now?” And I look forward to hearing him proudly give a colorful description after he has dined at one of New York’s new hotspots, or when he returns from one of his many exotic trips around the globe.

My grandfather was the star cook in our immediate family, which is certainly atypical. My late grandmother, Lillian, was nervous in the kitchen. The dozen things she liked to make, she made better than any one else in the world. But she had a limited repertoire and preferred to leave a large part of the execution to my grandfather.

So before holidays or at dinner parties at their home, Grandpa Ted would be there in shirtsleeves and tie, elbow-deep in a simmering pot. Even though he is a sophisticated and successful businessman, Grandpa Ted has always been totally at home in the kitchen, chopping, stirring, roasting, and tasting, of course. Cleaning up is not really his specialty, but no one seems to mind. He produces exceptionally good food.

At 84, Grandpa Ted still throws dinner parties and oversees all the cooking. Now that I am a married woman and a professionally trained chef, no less, I figured I would take over holiday duties. But Grandpa Ted won’t have it. He insists on hosting all the holiday meals. Lucky for me, we live in the same city and he still lets me help in the kitchen.

These memories are so much a part of who I am, and so much of what I bring to the table as a culinarian. For as long as I can remember, food has been a central part of my life. Growing up in New York, epicurean delicacies were at my finger tips and eating was one of my most treasured pastimes (times haven’t changed). A typical conversation around the dinner table in my family consisted of a thorough analysis of the food on our plates and a detailed discussion of the following day’s menu. There has never been a family meal in my life where the next meal was not on the agenda. Food and love were one in the same, and a good dish was as treasured as the brightest smile or the heartiest hug. It is no surprise, then, that I ultimately wound up with a career in food.

When I first told my grandfather that I wanted to leave the corporate world of investment banking to become a chef and caterer, he was less than thrilled. Like the caring and concerned grandfather he is, he worried that I would be leaving a comfortable professional path to work long hours with great physical sacrifice. He was nervous for me, but also just a little bit excited, I think. Once I began culinary school and was hired for my first catering gig, Grandpa Ted became my biggest cheerleader. He has been supportive, proud, and even available for recipe consultations whenever I need him! His tremendous love for and knowledge of food feeds my passion. I love him and so appreciate his impact on my life.

Although my grandfather’s influence has been profound, I cannot pen a Father’s Day article without mentioning my own dad. Well, suffice it to say, I would not be where I am today, gastronomically or otherwise, without him. My father, Ken, gave me the keys to the world through education and the appreciation of discovery. He highly values learning something new and soaks up knowledge like a sponge. His genuine love of history shapes me to this day (you will often see historical references in “The Competent Cook.”).

Although I did not grow up where my father lived, I shared many special meals with him over the years. I still cannot seem to make a dark, brown onion gravy for the Thanksgiving turkey with his special touch. I fondly remember eating the pheasant he would prepare after one his successful hunts. Most of all, I have my father to thank for my writing aptitude. He is an unparalleled wordsmith and also is the co-author of the name of this column! Thank you, Dad, for this most wonderful gift!