Childhood memories are strange.
Do you actually remember things, or do you just hear the stories so many times, you think you remember them. My best memories, of course revolve around food. And I do remember.

My parents got divorced when I was four years old. I spent Sundays with my Dad.
I don't recall much of the first year. Things changed when I turned six years old.
I now had a step mom and new brother.  It was a difficult time, and Sundays weren't always so fun.
But Summer Sundays, were the best.

Every Sunday, we would head to Coney Island for the day. This meant a few things.
I would get to hang out with my Dad, swim and eat.
My Dad would make sandwiches for us to take to the beach.
These were no ordinary sandwiches. No ham and cheese for the Cochin family.

I would watch my Dad, over a giant pan filled with eggs, potatoes, onions and peppers.
He would just grab globs out of the pan and pop them in his mouth.
He would groan and shake his head, not even feeling the heat of the pan.
Then, he would show me his giant fresh rolls from the bakery.
He carefully wrapped each fluffy egg filled delight in tin foil, and packed them up.
A plum or peach would be thrown in for good measure.

I would sit in the car on the way, just thinking abouth the moment I could open the tin foil and take my first bite. My new brother could care less, and would disappear the minute we got there.
Dad would make a least two sandwiches per person, and I savored both of mine.
I loved these days at the beach with my Dad. If I was lucky, there might even be a trip to Nathan's on the way home. Nathan's had it all! Pizza, Cotton Candy, and of course Hot Dogs.
I loved to watch my Dad pop a whole hot dog in his mouth, gone in two bites.

I didn't always connect with my Dad. Our love for food, was our connection.
Things got tough between us at the end, and I didn't always care to talk to him.
But, every time we did speak, his first question would be "What did you have for lunch?".
I would describe each bite of the best meal I had that week, and he would do the same.
Somehow, things could be simple between us, just like those days at Coney Island.

Til next time,