Memories

I still remember the first time I ate steak at Gourme when the steak house was inaugurated in Dhaka. I wouldn't call that fast food steak the Andersons ice cream diner before that.
Now to my dad the steak thing is a whole alien thing. To him it is raw meat.
Then in 2013, during the Eid of Qurbani, I kept some lean pieces of beef, cut very uniformly. I had no idea about beef cuts. Good thing. I marinated it with whatever spice came to my head and left it in the fridge. I came down the next afternoon to cook it. A state of restlessness with all the ready teddy in the kitchen. At that moment, Dad entered.
"What are you doing ??"
"Making Steak"
"How?"
"I put the butter in the oven, I heated the pan in the oven."
"You can't make it,it will stay raw, go and get Scratch, I will make it for you."
I brought it too. I gave him and neatly poured a pile of oil in the pan. The amount of oil to deep fry.
"Alas, what have you done, father?"
"I mean, what did I do? Isn't that right?"
"It's not like that, It takes less oil to fry, and more frying will get it harder to eat."
But who cares? And after about 30 or 40 minutes of moderately deep frying, my dad served my favorite steak better than OL right.
Then I feel a little annoyed. But since he is not here today, I miss the tricks of his forgetful mind.
What can I do to get these moments again? At the end of the day, all the memories remained. No more getting that day, no more Dad, no more cheating on this dish.