Last night after closing up the office, I brought the ledger book to Norma (side note, what I wouldn’t give for an escalator to their house), and just happened to walk in without anyone noticing me. For just a brief moment, I saw Norma in her apron, cooking a meal for Norman and Dylan, who were setting the table. Everyone was happy and smiling, I swear Norman Rockwell couldn’t have done it any better. It was so sweet, but it made me realize that those moments are pretty hard to come by when it’s only a dad and his daughter. So I decided I’d do something about it. I’d cook dinner for my dad and me.

At first I thought about something easy, like chicken and rice, because it’s the thought that counts. Then I realized, screw that, go big or go home! My first thought was duck confit, but that takes like 3 days, so scratch that. My next thought was some kind of a pasta dish, but that seemed too easy. Then it hit me: beef wellington. It’s meat, it’s a pastry, AND it’s British. Perfect! I just had to cook it while Dad was in the shop, so I could surprise him with it.

I should have mentioned this before… I don’t know how to cook. I mean, I can boil water, but I’ve never done any of that expert-level stuff. But I watch a lot of cooking shows, and I have a recipe, so how hard could it be?

Turns out, very hard.

It didn’t take too long for me to screw up pretty much every aspect of the meal. The sauce was chunky, I burned the beef (after dropping it on the floor), and somehow the pastry came out liquidy. I have no idea how that’s possible, but I figured out a way to do it.

Dad came in right as I was about to lose it, probably because the smoke detector had been going off for about five minutes, and just started laughing. And then I started laughing, because what else could I do?

After we cleaned up the mess, Dad ordered a pizza and we put on a movie. It wasn’t a Rockwell painting, but for Dad and me, it was perfect.