Over the years I’ve come up with a number of ways to semi- creatively tell my dad Happy Father’s Day, including, but not limited to: poetry likening my dad to a magician (age 11), coupons for daughter-done car detailing (pretty much every year of grade school), and the offer to do whatever my dad feels like ONE WHOLE SUNDAY PER YEAR (read: usually not much, which works out, since I’m historically pretty lazy about these things, obviously). As I’ve gotten older I’ve figured out that, since no one complains about being fed, food is probably the simplest dad-pleasing gift I can give. Or person-pleaser in general, for pretty much every occasion, except an overeater’s anonymous meeting, in which case, satiate the masses (HA! MASSES!) with some Crystal Light. This year my dad requested ribs for Father’s Day dinner as he has for pretty much as long as I can remember, but this year I decided to actually participate a little in the dinner making instead of couch sprawling for six hours straight. So here you are, the tutorial my heading implied might make your father love you more… which, let’s be honest, has no credence whatsoever.
Regardless, give it a shot, since dads are awesome (at least mine is!) and you should probably make a gesture every now and then to say, “Thanks for giving me the gift of life and also for bailing me out when I’m really, unapologetically, pathetically broke. Which I swear has nothing to do with my upbringing or lack of ambition, it’s seriously the economy/locale/unfair-edness of life! CHRIST!”
Wait, leave that last part out. HOOOO-KAAAAY. Deep breaths.
Shuck some corn. But don’t get all Rambo on it and shuck it all off! Only peel it down, and leave the ends on, like you peel a banana. Get rid of the silk unless you want to make a pillow out of it, in which case, good luck, but that’s gonna fester in a couple of days, and I DON’T WANNA BE THERE.
Not gonna bother with measurements, because as mentioned before THE LAZINESS. Mix together some stuff. Namely olive oil, chopped red onion, chopped garlic, some lime juice, some chili powder, salt, and pepper. But try to put more chili powder in it than I did, since it wasn’t nearly spicy enough for me, ok? Also, add way more garlic than you think you need since it mellows so much and also because garlic is crazy good for you and immediately distinguishes the people who you want to hang out with vs. the people who are way too needy and/or superficial to hang out with. Because seriously, if I hear one more person IN MY ENTIRE LIFE be grossed out/skeptical of garlic use, I might need to punch them right in the mouth. Garlic is delicious, healthy, and really doesn’t make you smell bad unless you’re a total weirdo and eat cloves raw.
TAKE SOME TIME TO BOND WITH DAD (i.e. enlist his hands to help you here, since it gets tricky otherwise). With your bare hands rub the mixture (juices and solids) over the ears of corn, then fold the husks back up to their original position. I specify bare hands here because brushes and spoons are seriously a waste of time and effort. Plus it sounds a little badass. Hand the ear to dad, who can tie the corn so that the husks stay tight to the ear. You can use kitchen twine, but I just took some pliable husks, ripped them lengthwise so they’d be skinny, tied two segments together in a double knot, and used that for a tie. Dad can take that tie , loop it around the corn, and tie another double knot so it stays tight. That made sense, right? Honestly that was way too confusing for me to try to detail in writing.
Here’s where I went wrong. I should have either oven roasted the corn first or allotted more time for the corn on the grill. Put the corn on the grill and wait for, I’d guess, a total of 20-25 minutes for the corn to cook through. I was a moron and allotted 9 minutes (why I don’t know) for total cooking time, so I had to finish it in the oven. Rotate the corn several times throughout the grilling so it gets toasty all over and thoroughly cooks the thicker part of the ear.
Peel the husks off so your family doesn’t make a gigantor mess at the dinner table and serve it around an epic pile of meat. Dad will be happy.
P.S. Precursor to step one/step six depending on your schedule and/or dad’s snackiness:
My dad goes bonkers for chocolate chip cookies, so you should probably make those for dessert. But since I know my dad well (and I know he loves his chocolate chip cookies all damn day) I baked them as soon as we’d finished our waffle breakfast. My dad is usually a well-disciplined guy. For instance, for six months or more he gave up his Diet Coke habit after he had to get a cavity filled. He was 54, I believe, and doesn’t partake in any vices one usually ascribes to bad health- he’s just got serious gumption and straight-lacedness… but in the vicinity of chocolate chip cookies he loses all self control. I probably love making them for him just because it’s a pleasure to see him unabashedly downing cookie after cookie after cookie etc. etc. without guilt or bother. So let your dad do his thing and make him his favorite dessert and go bananas for it. He deserves it.
Love you, dad!