I grew up in a home where unlike other homes, the meals were made by my Dad. My mom was a little scatterbrained, and always seemed to get distracted and burn the roast. She mainly stuck with the cleaning while Dad did the cooking. I think the fact that I adored my dad and was always with him, made me love cooking. I would sit for hours and watch him bake a pie or cook a curry. He was good at anything he made. Saturday was my day to learn how to cook with Dad, ever since I was 13. I would plop myself down at the kitchen table and take notes.

The first lesson my Dad ever taught me in cooking was to wear an apron. I wasn’t a great listener and so I didn’t pay heed to his most important instruction. No matter how much he would remind me, I never wore one when he wasn’t looking. One Saturday when I was about 15 years old, I decided to cook my dad a meal. I was baking a cake and like I said, I wasn’t a good listener nor was I good at following the rules. So I followed most of the recipe, but I decided to add in a little extra sugar. I put the cake in the oven, but it wouldn’t rise, so I tried to repair the damage by taking it out and mixing in some more eggs, flour, and cocoa powder. I didn’t even take the batter out of the cake pan, and just stuck the hand mixer right in the shallow pan. The batter sprayed everywhere, and I ended up with a mixture of eggs, flour, and cocoa all over my face, in my hair, and on my clothes. Like most girls, I screamed and burst into tears. My Dad heard me and came running in to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but laugh, since I was quite the sight. Brown faced with icky egg yolk all over me! My Dad made the cake. The next week at cooking class, dad gifted me with a set of four funny aprons, one for each Saturday in the month. 

Now, many moons later, I am a proud mother of three and an owner of a small café here in my hometown. I still have the four aprons my dad gave me. They are worn out and old, and I keep them tucked away in a trunk. Daddy passed away a few weeks ago and it made me long for those old aprons.  I decided I didn’t want to have them tucked away, not anymore. I got all four of them framed, and they are now hanging on my café wall.

Tags: Funny Apron Stories //