The first thing that comes to mind is the first time I grilled a steak. I can’t remember exactly how old I was, but maybe my late teens. I had already learned how to cook and all that, but I hadn’t attempted grilling. So my dad bought us a couple of steaks and wanted to teach me how to grill. I put the steaks on the grill and things were going great. I was having a fun conversation with my dad, and listening to the food sizzle.
I needed to flip them so I could sear the other side. The first steak flipping was an easy 10 out of 10. The second steak… not so much. Somehow, the steak wound up on the ground. I used the tongs, just like I had done with steak number one, but this time the steak was sling-shotted up into the air. I watched in slow motion—and in terror as the steak rotated into the air once or twice before smacking down onto the concrete.
My dad, a veteran of the Armed Forces, didn’t even blink. He reached down to pick up the fumbled steak, looked at me and said, “keep an eye on that one. I’ll be back.” If you’re wondering, yes, he said, “I’ll be back” in his best version of Arnold Schwarzenegger he could manage. He took the fallen steak into the house. I was nervous, so I practiced flipping the steak that remained on the grill. I did fine, and after a couple of tries, my dad returned and tossed the fallen steak on back on the grill. I looked at him confused, “I rinsed it off. I’ll eat that one. You’re doing fine,” he said. Once the steaks were done, we ate them, and we laughed about my steak fumble. It tasted decent for my first time grilling. A year or so later, my dad said I was in charge of grilling either for us, or when we have family get togethers because I had mastered it… according to him, at least.
So, it was an epic fail, and if it had just been me, that steak would have been a casualty. My desire to grill food might have ended that day. My dad, who was and still is my hero, saved the day. He didn’t even give me the chance to get mad at myself or to give up because he was already working to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. A year ago, which was a year after he passed away, I was grilling some chicken for my family and I kid you not—I flung a chicken breast out of the grill and into the yard. I swear I could feel my dad laughing at me from the after life, and all I could do was smile and keep on grilling.
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