Growing up, my dad always wanted sons. Whether it was tossing around a football or grilling on the BBQ, it was always clear where his heart was set. But, with God's grace, he was blessed with two, now three, beautiful little girls. Though disappointed, he cared for us through all the ups and downs through out our lives. But my grandfather, Brian, he was a different story all-together.
When I was born, being the oldest, my grandfather's life lit up. I was the apple of his eye, and he, my best friend. Four years later, he was blessed with another little girl, my sister Megan. We were his world growing up. Whether it was trips to the pumpkin patch in late September or learning to swim in early June, he wasted no time showing us the world. This included his pride and joy, his BBQ.
From late March to early October, everything was cooked on the grill outside. From corn to steaks to just plain hot dogs, I learned to cook everything on the charcoal stove.
Before he passed away in 2005, my grandfather was my whole world. He taught me right from wrong, good from evil, and how to perfectly cook a sirloin every time. His kitchen was always a little different from grandma's though. Both were great cooks and both knew their way around a spatula and tongs, but there was one astronomical difference to me as a child. In grandma's kitchen, dishes got washed and put away. In grandpa's, you always got to lick the spoon clean.
So that's why we're a lot like grandpa's kitchen. Family comes first, and food feeds the love of a home.