Dad / The Condimentary

The family kitchen—home cooking—has never been a man's territory. It's been a space reserved for mothers, grandmothers, domestic workers, women; that's how it was in my house. But when my father was widowed and left living alone, something changed in him.

She discovered—or perhaps rediscovered—that feeding and being fed is also an act of care and presence. She began cooking, not out of obligation, but for pleasure. In that act, she found companionship, conversation, fun, and another way to be close.

He watches cooking channels, tries out recipes, and is thrilled with every new dish he loves. At over eighty years old, he maintains his zest for life, cultivating it through food and literature: he enthusiastically recounts what he's cooked and eaten, imagines what he still wants to discover, and relives the flavors he's encountered along the way. Traveling with him means stopping in every town, following a craving, and listening to the story behind every bite.

He passionately points out where the richest millefeuille, the freshest almojábana, or the most honest stew are sold, and in each memory he conveys the joy of someone who lives with enthusiasm and their heart set on the table.

His way of inhabiting the world is through eating it, exploring it, reading it, savoring it. Thanks to him, I learned that cooking isn't just inherited through the female lineage: there are also fathers who cook, who feed.

We make edible get-togethers, going to Cartagena, to downtown Bogotá, to eat shrimp ceviche, and for dessert, to Doña Pachita's for Gloria cake. The salpicón (salty sandwich) at the National Park is a Sunday plan. He always has Gala cake for breakfast, and Coca-Cola is part of his daily diet. He likes tea and occasionally makes me his famous potato omelet, although I wish he would make it more often. Lately, he's been perfecting a shrimp moqueca (a type of dessert) he tried on a trip. Seeing him happy in the kitchen is a constant reminder of the place food holds in his life.

Throughout history, gastronomy has had its "fathers": Auguste Escoffier, who organized modern professional cuisine; Antoine Carême, the architect of banquets; Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, philosopher of taste; Parmentier, who dignified the potato; Paul Bocuse, who championed nouvelle cuisine ; and Ferran Adrià, who transformed the boundaries of culinary creativity. References, pioneers, systematizers, thinkers. Names linked to technique, innovation, research, and the avant-garde.

And then there are the parents who teach and care through food in their everyday lives. Those who cook for their children, indulge with their dishes, and instill values around the table. Those who invite us to try the unknown, to repeat what we like, and to savor life.

This is a tribute to the fathers who have lit the stove, shared memories, and taught us that love is also knowing what and how we like to eat . Because it is in those everyday gestures that their love endures. To Douglas, my dad.