In his final months, he wasn’t the dad I’d known — always terrifically absorbed in anything that came up in conversation. Regardless of whom he was talking to, he would find something genuinely engrossing, an opportunity to learn a fact or communicate one. A couple of weeks before he died, I cooked him Jerusalem artichoke soup. “Then add two small potatoes, and two artichokes and cook them, but not too much, with a little water and chicken bouillon. He sat down, had a couple of spoonfuls, and then, in an uninhibited way reserved for the very old (or the very young), passed his verdict.

Source: New York Times August 21, 2020 15:45 UTC