I was fortunate to have 2 dads while growing up – my father, John and my beloved uncle, Freddy, whom I never called uncle, always Daddy. Both have transitioned from this world. Every day I miss them but on their birth anniversaries and on Father’s Day, I always wish they were around so that I could cook for them; I never got the opportunity to, and I believe that cooking for someone is one of the best ways to say I love you.
Daddy and uncle Freddy were excellent cooks in their own right, but rarely did they get a chance to be in the kitchen, as they were married to two sisters who were phenomenal cooks, and who ruled the kitchen; well, their entire households if truth be told (lol). However, on the rare occasions that these men would grace the kitchen, the food was always simple. The ingredients were coaxed to release their flavour with a sensibility of knowing what they wanted to eat and how to prepare it to suit their taste and liking. For example, Daddy’s late-night pot of Mettagee bubbling on the stove seasoned with a few pieces of salt fish that had just the right amount of salt for the entire 8-quart pot on the stove. The ground provisions layered in such a fashion that those that took the longest to cook were at the bottom, and in ascending order, the fastest cooking, such as the ripe plantains sitting at the top. Creamy, white, fresh coconut milk with specks of black pepper and leaves of fresh fine thyme swirling around everything. It was the first time I saw Mettagee topped with boiled eggs. Just as the flames beneath the pot were switched off, people who were fast asleep drifted sleepy-eyed towards the kitchen. Daddy had woken up the house.
