Doting Dads: Anecdotes & Antidotes for Mother's Day
by Sarah Stoner
Anecdote: a short amusing or interesting story about a real incident or person
Antidote: a medicine taken or given to counteract a particular poison
Sarah’s dad.
After my father lost his mother, he moved back to his hometown of Vancouver, Washington from Bangkok, Thailand. His stateside daughter—me—had recently become a mother. He’d lived his entire adult life overseas: East Africa, North Africa, Western Europe, South Pacific Ocean, Southeast Asia. He and my mother joined the Peace Corps in 1964, in its fledgling fourth year, as teachers in Liberia. They continued their international teaching adventure for decades to follow.
My mother likes to point out: living overseas made her a better U.S. citizen. “You realize how good you have it.” As a first-hand witness to governments of the world, the resilient young democracy that was the U.S.A. when my parents lived overseas remained a shining beacon. They lived through Idi Amin and government coups and forced bribes and Embassy evacuations and power outages. My parents filled out their absentee voter ballots without fail, across all those decades and oceans. Hats off to the Military and Overseas Empowerment (MOVE) Act, that protected their voting rights as citizens overseas all those years.
Our International Herald Tribune daily newspaper, Time magazine, and BBC World Service on the radio kept us tuned in to stateside and world events. And—for my dad, as a full-on foodie—another regular household subscription across the decades: Gourmet magazine, delivered without fail alongside the news.
I ain’t gonna lie, overseas life sometimes comes with cooks, so my dad did not chef often when my brother and I were kids. A few times, he declared with great fanfare that he would be cooking and shooed everyone out of the kitchen, glossy Gourmet tucked under his arm. His legendary kitchen failures did not happen all in one day, but our family has howled with laughter for years about these fails. The time he set out to make the French Country Cake, showcased in high-shine glory of the magazine pages, that emerged from the oven flat… and we forever called it his French Country Pancake.
There was the time he quadrupled a recipe. While usually good at math, somehow twelve teaspoons of parsley became a forested twelve cups of parsley. And perhaps his most famous fail: his attempt at the famous Five Flies Stew, signature dish of restaurant d’Vijff Vlieghen in Amsterdam who claims this uniquely spiced recipe harkens back to 1627. My dad’s version: oversalted by a handslide, and forever renamed, Dad’s Salt of the Seven Seas Soup. Nonetheless, he persevered.
Fast forward to nearly two decades of stateside life for the whole family. It was my father who, at a point along this trajectory of shared Mother’s Days—honoring his longtime wife, my mother, and his daughter, now a mother of two—began to give us the most delicious of gifts. My dad planned—and served—themed feasts, down to a signature drink to accompany. Thai. New Orleanian. Moroccan.
The gift grew out of the year he hosted all of us at his home in Vancouver. We feasted on a Thai-themed meal from appetizer to multi-main-course to dessert. My daughter had just begun to walk, and she toddled about in a Thai dress, bright yellow with traditional embroidered edges. Mangoes and sticky rice, served in bamboo steamer baskets. Cashew chicken curry. TokTok chicken wings. Shrimp Gaeng Som curry.
Sarah’s dad cooking up one of his famous feasts.
He planned the menus with such joy and delight, I think this was as much a part of the gift for me. He emailed my mother and me options in the weeks before: do we want chicken satay skewers or Miang Kham as an appetizer, or both? How does a rum coconut cocktail sound? These three main entrée dishes, or do them all? Um. Yes!
As a mother tending daily to two young children, being doted upon by my father with such love was the perfect antidote. Such lavish interest in my care and feeding was the greatest of all gifts.
Next year: muffulettas and shrimp gumbo. Cajun bread pudding. Negronis. And the next: Moroccan carrot salad. Harira. Lamb tagine. Cinnamon oranges. Herbaltinis.
A Spring Celebration menu: Canlis salad. Shrimp fresh rolls. Cheesy rice with asparagus. Garlic bread. Chicken Marbella. Moscato with fresh raspberries. Crème brulée (complete with a DIY torch my dad brought for the kids to use, much to their delight).
And finally, last year’s Mother’s Day menu: Dad’s Famous Fails. A chance at redemption. The Five Flies Stew was incredible. Fascinating flavors that marry well. Bok choy and cannellini bean salad. Crèmant. Rhubarb poundcake. Because the French Country Cake had to be left behind… famously flat again, I kid you not.
One of the two women who campaigned to establish Mother’s Day, now in place since 1914, wanted a day that transcended celebrating maternal bonds. They wanted a day that stood more broadly for peace, unity, and social change. They wanted a day not of pre-printed cards but a day of handwritten notes, personal gestures. I want to remember this as I wade through today’s headlines. I remember this as I think of the men who tend closely to their community.
Regularly, I witness the fathers of young kids in our Mount Vernon neighborhood tend to their wives and children. Several years in a row, Mother’s Day in our ‘hood has looked like this: an informal group of dads work together to host a feast in our neighborhood park for the neighborhood moms. Complete with tablecloths, flower bouquets, quiche, fruit, mimosas, and child care while the mothers eat, connect, and relax.
The family two doors down often eat on their front lawn on warm spring days. Their kids, one and five years old, play. The father often leaps up to offer me a plate, or a generous smile as he walks towards me in my yard, an Aperol spritz or cold white wine on offer. Food is dropped off on my doorstep, and I know the man who does it feels pained by the news; his acts of care are his own personal antidote to today’s headlines. My friend’s husband who makes sure my gators are securely fastened for our winter hike. My son, now 20 years old, who served me up a delectable omelet two weeks ago, on a casual weekend visit. My son. My dad. These dads. Not all men, I know. But these men.
I tell the story of these men as an antidote to men I read about in the news today. I honor the men who dote on us. The men who care for their neighborhood communities, their mothers, their wives, their children. The world needs you. Thank you.
Skagit writer and eater Sarah Stoner grew up in Uganda, Morocco, Belgium, and Thailand and lived in the U.S. for the first time at age 18. Her parents, in 1961, heard JFK’s now-famous inaugural address, “Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country,” and were deeply inspired by those words. They finished their education degrees, learned my father couldn’t serve in the military due to an eye stigma, and joined the Peace Corps. Thus began a life of raising two multicultural kids in a medley of countries—much like unique ingredients in a unique cultural stew. They each voted in every federal election for forty-plus years as U.S. citizens overseas.
Herbaltini
Adapted From Sunset Magazine.
This refreshing drink combines fresh herbs that many of us have in our PNW yards, as its creator is a Washingtonian. Cut the sugar or cut the alcohol, to enjoy to taste. Beware! These go down easy.
Ingredients
24 fresh mint sprigs, rinsed
12 fresh rosemary sprigs, rinsed
3/4 cup superfine sugar
2 oranges, chilled, rinsed, and quartered
2 1/4 cups gin, chilled in the freezer
1 cup plus 2 Tbsp fresh lime juice (about 7 limes), chilled
1 1/2 cups soda water, chilled
Fresh mint leaves, rinsed
Directions
In a 3-quart pitcher, combine mint sprigs, rosemary sprigs, and sugar. With a long-handled wooden spoon, muddle (or crush) the herbs and sugar together.
Squeeze juice from oranges into pitcher, then drop quarters in. Press a few times with spoon to release oil from orange peels.
Stir in gin, lime juice, and 1/2 cup ice water. Mix until sugar is dissolved.
Serve or cover and chill up to 4 hours (see notes). If using martini glasses, chill in freezer.
To serve, slowly pour chilled soda water into the pitcher, down the side. Stir gently to blend. Pour through a strainer into chilled martini glasses or ice-filled glasses. Float a mint leaf on top of each. Serve at once.
Bunk’s Oregon Albacore Tuna Salad
I was introduced to these tuna melts from Bunk Sandwiches in Portland by my dad, who served them to me for my birthday. It’s a delicious dairy-free tuna mixture with a hit of pepper flakes. Sure, you can also church it up with dairy: spread a ciabatta roll with mayo and mustard, add medium-sharp cheddar and sliced garlic dill pickles, and grill in a panini press.
Ingredients
2 cans (5 oz each) local sustainable albacore tuna
1/4 cup minced red onion
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 Tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 Tbsp minced fresh basil leaves
1/2 tsp red pepper chili flakes
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
Directions
Simply combine and mix all the ingredients and serve!
Five Flies Beef Stew
This Dutch stew recipe has survived since 1627, according to the Amsterdam restaurant that serves it to this day. Makes 6 servings.
Ingredients
1 1/2 lbs. round steak, cut 1 inch thick
1/3 cup flour
1/4 tsp each: ground cloves, ground ginger, curry powder, garlic salt, black pepper, salt
1/4 cup salad oil
2 beef bouillon cubes
2 cup hot water
1/4 cup slivered almonds
1 (4 oz.) can mushrooms
1 cup drained sour red cherries
1 cup dairy sour cream
Directions
Cut steak into 1-inch cubes.
Combine flour with spices, pepper and salt. Dip pieces of steak in seasoned flour.
Heat salad oil in a heavy frying pan or Dutch oven. Brown the meat in hot oil. When meat is well browned, sprinkle it with remaining seasoned flour.
Stir until the flour is well browned. Dissolve the bouillon cubes in hot water and pour over browned meat.
Cover and simmer over low heat for about 2 hours or until meat is tender. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a small saucepan. Add the almonds and cook until dark brown.
At serving time, stir in the almonds into the stew along with the mushrooms and their liquid, and the drained cherries. Simmer for about 10 minutes or until bubbling hot.
Blend in sour cream and serve at once, accompanied by buttered noodles or steamed rice.