Get to
the
table

I grew up around people who cooked well. Not professionally, just seriously. The kind of family where the holiday menu gets argued over weeks in advance, and where a restaurant worth the drive is worth the drive. Effort in the kitchen was never remarkable in my house. It was the baseline.

Now there are two of my own, a boy and a girl, and Sunday has become the day I make something worth sitting down for. I care which tomatoes I buy. I care how it lands on the plate. I plate it properly for a toddler who could not possibly care less, and I will do it again next Sunday.

That turned out to be the whole thing. The effort is the point, and doing it well with two small people underfoot means doing most of it before Sunday arrives. Dad Made is where I write down how.