Happy Father’s Day, everyone. For this post I did research about “famous TV Dads” and not a one of them had a recipe associated with them. So, Father Knowing Best, I went for Robert Young.
If you know vintage TV (and radio) well enough, you would think that Robert Young had a stellar and long-lived career, first as Jim Anderson on Father Knows Best and then as Marcus Welby, MD. Two iconic roles. But he was very bitter, later in life discussed his battles with alcohol and depression, and even made a suicide attempt. Why?
Way back in the days of the silents he was discovered by a talent scout and wanted to have a career in the movies. He was on a studio contract, which meant he couldn’t turn down a role, and ended up working opposite some of the most famous actors of his era, like Hedy Lamarr and Joan Crawford and Katharine Hepburn, all kinds of people, especially women. He was (or felt he was) treated like a semi-talented hack and got fewer and fewer scripts with worse and worse roles. I don’t exactly know what happened, but he joined the “radio play” Father Knows Best, which was wildly popular, and then made the smooth transition to TV (Lucy & Desi did the same thing around the same time.)
But what I did discover is that Robert Young was his real name, and when I googled for recipes came across the website for the Robert Young Winery. Oh! I thought. So like Raymond Burr and Francis Ford Coppola and that catastrophic Jolie-Pitt couple he bought a vineyard, which you can tour and they have an on-site restaurant—-Wrong Robert Young.
Then on his wiki page, under siblings, was actor Roger Moore. That can’t be right, I thought. But no, it’s true, just a different, American actor Roger Moore, not 007.
So here I have Father Knowing Best, but no recipe for him. Off to Taste Of Home for something era-appropriate.
Grapefruit Alaska
Ingredients:
4 large grapefruit
2 teaspoons rum extract
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream, whipped
3 large egg whites, room temperature
1 teaspoon cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
1/4 cup sugar
8 maraschino cherries
Directions:
Preheat oven to 350°. Halve grapefruits and section; remove membranes. Return grapefruit sections to grapefruit halves. Drizzle 1/4 teaspoon rum extract over each. Top each with 1 rounded tablespoon of whipped cream. Place on an ungreased foil-lined baking sheet.
In a large bowl, beat the egg whites, cornstarch and cream of tartar on medium speed until soft peaks form. Gradually beat in sugar, 1 tablespoon at a time, on high until stiff glossy peaks form and sugar is dissolved. Mound 1/2 cup on each grapefruit half; spread meringue to edges to seal. Bake until meringue is browned, 15 minutes. Top each with a cherry. Serve immediately.
It looks like there are some famous dad recipes in here:
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/annals-of-gastronomy/in-the-kitchen-with-the-unofficial-simpsons-cookbook
I recently was watching some “Family Guy” musical numbers that I found on Youtube and was going to feature Peter Griffin, but the only food episode I could really remember or find is the one where they all get sick from food poisoning.
Plus, I love “Family Guy,” especially the musical numbers, but I know that some people find them offensive, but that’s the point, that’s what makes them so funny. It’s such a relief as an adult to cut through the fog of politesse and hear and see something that doesn’t sound like it came out of the mouth of Mr. Rogers. Or worse yet a bowdlerizing “sensitivity reader.”
I like Mrs. Anderson’s triple-strand pearls. I’m sure that there was no paste involved, only the best for Mrs. A.
Jim (her TV husband, Robert Young) was an insurance salesman. Apparently you could make a great living doing that back then.
I once read a scathing article about Canada, written by an America-loving Canadian. I’m doing this from memory. The writer pointed out that the US fought a long and costly war for independence from Britain. When Canada achieved Dominion status (and they still have a Governor General, and King Charles III is their notional head of state) it was the equivalent of going to a used car outlet and signing the loan documents.
The writer also pointed to a survey (this was a long time ago, the 1980s I think) where, when American boys and young men were asked what occupations they would like to pursue, the top picks were the usual, firefighters, astronauts, big hero kind of stuff. The same survey was conducted in Canada. The number one choice was insurance sales.
I can’t be sure but I think this was a Mordecai Richler piece. I love his stuff. The world is much poorer without him. He wouldn’t be published today, because sensitive people would feel “threatened,” but when he was alive and in Montréal he tossed all kinds of figurative bombs. His stuff about the Québécois language and signage laws…I find it actually kind of charming to go and see all the French, even though the people speak it in a very different way than you’d hear it in Paris or Nice, but he, an Anglophone, had quite a few things to say about it.
I think you’re overstating any potential current day uproar over Richler. When he died twenty some years ago, fellow Montrealer Adam Gopnik noted his earlier controversy seems to have faded into acceptance
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2001/07/16/mordecai-richler
I always forget that so much of American culture is inflected with Anglophone Jewish refugees from Québec. Richler, Gopnik, there are many others I can’t remember. We should just become one country. My grandparents were from Canada. Although you always hear celebrities saying they will emigrate to Canada if [whatever. Trump is elected. Roe v. Wade is overturned] and they never do.
It’s not easy. Canada has its own problems, and they’re many, and the last thing they need are offended 20- or 30-something celebrity Americans showing up not understanding what poutine is or the words to “God Save The King.” And the traffic seems to go one way. America is flooded with Canadian-born celebrities but you never hear of anyone going in the other direction.