Dad.

Dad's Omelet

After going home to Little Rock this past weekend I was made aware that I have pretty much no self control when it comes to eating.  I love food.

And I'm pretty sure this is deeply rooted in my upbringing.  My Dad has always been a bit of a food connoisseur, and tried his hardest to pass this on to us.  I distinctly remember being bribed as a child to try certain foods: caviar, fried oysters, escargot...  Who am I kidding?  He still tries to bribe me to try things.

When it comes to cooking, my Dad is the famous omelet maker in our family.  Not only because of his innovative ideas about what should go inside them (Fritos, anyone?), but also because of his garnish.

Smiley Garnish.  (Mark's had a mustache)

Yesterday, as we were getting ready to leave Little Rock to return to Tulsa, my Dad served us up more of his delicious omelets: Fabulously melty brie, cheddar, and american, with diced onions and my parents' homemade salsa.  Yum.

Thanks for the omelets Dad.  And for sparking my love affair with food.