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My father was not the greatest cook. He could bake pork ribs or chicken legs fairly compentantly, and he could boil potatoes or pasta. But that was the extent of his skills. Anything fried in a pan was cooked beyond recognition. I was in my 20s before I realized steak didn't have to be the same consistency as shoe leather. A common dinner he'd make was mashed potatoes with margarine, topped with macaroni mixed with Catelli meat sauce. It took me a number of years to undo all of that and learn to cook properly.