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My father cooks hellish dishes. Here is the average recipe, because there are a lot of options.
Dad takes the soup, but does not warm it up, warming up is not about father. He takes the soup, pours it into a frying pan and fries it. He adds a lot of onion, garlic, pepper and FLOUR to increase the viscosity, on top of the tomato paste. Then he takes it off the heat and cools it on the balcony. Then his father brings him into the room and eats from a frying pan, pouring mayonnaise and saying: "OOH BLYA!"
Sometimes he offers to me, but I refuse. Needless to say, what then is farting? The stench is such that wallpaper peels off the walls.
