People work on their relationships in many ways. We do it with #daddinners.

Some kids have cherished memories with their dad like Christmas morning. I have cherished memories of my dad in restaurants. My love of food in many ways should be contributed to my father and I’ve recently realised I don’t give him that credit enough. While my love of cooking and the kitchen being my favorite place comes from my mother and NaNa, undoubtedly my willingness to try new foods at new restaurants was inherited from my father.
#daddinners were the first instances of me realizing how much I show my love through food. It became an obsession to always pick a restaurant or order the thing that would start a conversation because so often I was too shy to talk about real things and real feelings. Feelings I’ve only recently begun to acknowledge.

My parents divorced when I was small. So small that I don’t have any memories of them actually being together. But I was fortunate enough to still have my Dad in my life. It wasn’t perfect, I didn’t get to see him every day like most of my friends but I knew he was there for me.

Then … we moved to Nebraska. And so began the official start of Dad dinners. We’d go to dinner whenever one of us was in town as we normally only got to see each other for a few hours. Occasionally I’d visit for longer with the express purpose of staying with him, but at some point, there was still a dad dinner.

As I grew older and our relationship (and my feelings about it) grew more complicated, there was one thing that was always easy – dad dinners. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my relationship with my dad will always be different than that of my younger brothers and youngest sister, but I’ve also realized that isn’t the end of the world. I’m a better food critic because of dad dinners. I have a more extensive palate because of dad dinners. I believe in ordering appetizers because of dad dinners. But most importantly, I’ll always have #daddinners.