My dad is a great cook. His mom, my Nana, was the mother of three boys and she taught them how to do more than “subsistence cook.” Dad and his brothers all have their own above-average culinary skills. My Nana passed away in 2008 but still, the smell of onion cooking down in butter takes me back to her kitchen in a visceral, tangible way.

When I was a child, my dad showed off his cooking skills often. We had a gas oven and range, which was fabulous, but we also had expensive gas heat. In the winter, instead of just turning up the thermostat while the whole family was home, we cooked to help heat up the kitchen and adjoining den. As a result, Dad was busy. He has several fabulous cool-weather recipes up his sleeves, but this one is perhaps my favorite.

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