It would be polite for me to say my dad and I don't see eye to eye. Even without my resilient grudges regarding forced t-ball participation or his clamoring for me to stop being such a foppish pansy, our evenings would still be a twisted hybrid of Hardball and Sally Jessy.
The man is all blood pressure and no taste buds when it comes to food. He is deathly afraid of carbohydrates and will tear through a Costco fire pail of mixed nuts or cafeteria tray of shitty cheddar as a 5 pm snack. The last thing I saw him eat was a sleeve of Ritz crackers topped with butter, cream cheese, cheddar cheese, a shake of table salt and blueberry jam. I typically don't knock things until I try them, but I could smell this one. Chances are he couldn't.
My mind was therefore blown when I learned he liked mussels. They're pretty in your face as far as shellfish goes, but there's still a lot of nuance there to appreciate, and I wonder if it's one of the last things he can taste. Somewhere in that argumentative, aged, cracked tongue of his there yet may be life.
I'd like to steam pop some mussels in beer and make him some fries. The mussels I think I can handle, but I'd appreciate any tips. The fries are a bit trickier, I've never done them to satisfaction. I'm gunning for thin cut, skin on, and easy.