Every year, as Father’s Day approaches and the gift guides suggesting $300 supercharged charcoal grill lighters and backyard pizza ovens roll in, I’m left wondering if I’m truly dad enough in the kitchen. Yet, dads, avert your eyes: I do not own a Big Green Egg. Blame it on my TikTok algorithm, but so many of the dads I see seem to be reveling in this profligate age of Dad Food, making homemade burger buns and subjecting spice-rubbed animal carcasses to long periods of indirect heat. I had the sense that dads were cooking more than they once did, and this was true — to a point. We have come a long way from the dawn of dad food, when man discovered fire and the “Big Boy Barbecue Book” suggested in 1956 that their occasionally grilling steaks indicated a revolutionary shifting of gender roles: “Wives take it easy.

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Persons: I’m, Dad Food, ”