Happy Father's Day!



“There are only two men on the planet that you can trust: me, and your dad. And I’m not so sure about your dad.”
~ Offer Korin, fancy attorney and de facto big brother

These sage words of cautionary advice were offered to me many moons ago, and are not intended to besmirch the sterling character of my beloved father. Rather, they indicate a fraternal instinct to protect me from the general male population, combined with a gentle reminder that Pop can be full of shit.

 Both of my parents, an uncle, and virtually all of our friends are lawyers. A profanity-laden debate is to our clan what a boozy flag football game is to the Kennedys. But every once in a while one of us (and by “one of us”, I mean “Pop”) will generate an argument that is a colossal pile of horseshit - and then proceed to defend it to the death. For example:

Pop’s hearing has been less than stellar for some time now, and he will absolutely not admit it. I once broached the subject and was treated to a long winded and intricately crafted defense that he closed with an assertion that the symptoms we’d attributed to his loss of hearing were really indicators that he has superior auditory powers. That’s right. With a straight face he said “It’s not that I’m losing my hearing, it’s that I actually hear too well.”.  Total conviction to this premise.

On another occasion, my parents’ adorable Black Labs were lingering a little too close to the table at a dinner party. When their noses were practically touching plates, someone spoke up and made a joke about them being good beggars. Pop took great exception to this and immediately spoke up for his dogs. He informed everyone that they were not, in fact, begging, because begging would inherently constitute an expectation of a positive result on their part; since his little princesses clearly KNEW that they’d never actually get anything, they were not begging. Begging, by definition, was completely different. This was just dogs looking at diners with huge, moist eyes while softly whining and licking their chops. Which is somehow not begging.

So, obviously, though my father is a fine and upstanding man, Offer’s right. Pop cannot always be trusted.

One area where his credibility remains unscathed is breakfast. My family loves a big breakfast, and Pop is the master of this domain. His biscuits and sausage gravy is the absolute ideal - I make it precisely how he does, and it’s the only version that tastes “right” to me. My father is the kindest, kookiest, smartest, most generous and warm-hearted fella in the universe. In celebration of my dad’s massive awesomeness, I give you the perfect breakfast to make for Father’s Day:

John Vargo’s Sausage Gravy

• Sausage
• Milk
• Flour
• Salt and LOTS of fresh cracked black pepper

This one is more of a method than a recipe - the ingredients can be scaled up and down as needed, and it can be modified to suit your tastes.

Cook some sausage in a large frying pan - I like something a little spicy myself, but you can sub in anything you like (maple or sage flavored sausage, for example; or if you are in the unfortunate circumstance of having a vegetarian dad, some sort of fake tofu-based thing). This is a time for good old fashioned sausage - leave the super fancy ones for some other purpose. Leave it in large hunks - don't mash it all up into pork-y confetti.

Once the sausage has been cooked, you should have a nice amount of fat in your pan. Sprinkle a light dusting of flour over the whole shebang, and work it gently into the meat, cooking it through. You're making a roux here, so the amount depends on how much sausage/fat you have, and how much liquid you're going to add - the Great God Ruhlman tells us that the proper ratio is 3 parts flour to 2 parts fat.

When the flour has cooked through and started to foam a bit, add your milk. If your dad is lactose intolerant, make him something else. Slowly add the milk a little at a time, combining gently with a whisk or fork as you go. Once the whole works comes back up to temperature and starts to boil, it will thicken and you can adjust it as you like.

At this point, add salt as needed, and throw in LOTS of fresh cracked black pepper. Lots. Taste and adjust for seasoning, then spoon over homemade biscuits. We like to use drop biscuits, because the craggy, irregular tops get crunchy and brown, and they offer a nice texture. If you like to roll them out, go ahead. But for the love of all that is holy, don't use those horrifying refrigerated dough things - your father might disown you if you do.