Pride is a complex emotion. Sitting in the audience, watching my son walk across the stage to receive his bachelor’s degree, I felt it surge in a way that caught me off guard. Pride isn’t always a good thing—too much can be toxic, too little can lead to defeatism. But pride in your children? That’s the kind of pride that fills your soul and leaves you deeply grateful.
It’s not about living vicariously through their actions or taking credit for their accomplishments. It’s about seeing who they are, what they’ve become—or are becoming—and how they carry themselves. Parents can only shape so much of who their children become. Early nurturing and setting examples matter, but, like a good soup, it all starts with quality stock. I’ve had a lot of job titles in my life, but none are more important than “dad.” Early on, my wife and I decided that raising our children should be our greatest priority. We didn’t want to miss a single school play, sporting event, or big moment, even if it meant putting other ambitions— including my career— on hold. I write this column 28,000 feet in the air, somewhere between New York and New Orleans. My wife, daughter, her fiancé, and I are on our way home after attending my son’s graduation from culinary school. The entire trip, my heart was swelling with pride. At 14, my son mentioned he wanted to join me in the restaurant business. After a few years, we mapped out an eight-year plan: four years of college with an emphasis on business management and accounting, two years of culinary school, and at least two years working for other restaurants in a large market. It’s the plan I wish I’d followed. In my twenties, I was cocky and thought I knew everything about the restaurant business, but being down in the trenches of the restaurant’s daily grind quickly taught me I didn’t. I lacked the business foundation and formal culinary training that would have helped me avoid costly mistakes early on. The ball is in his court. Even if I’d wanted to attend culinary school, I couldn’t have afforded it. I’d already taken on more student debt than I thought I’d ever repay. That’s part of the reason why seeing my son graduate from The Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park—the Harvard of cooking schools in my opinion—felt so significant. His time at CIA was about more than classroom learning. With the city just a 90-minute train ride south along the Hudson, he spent over two years of weekends dining around the city, from Michelin-starred establishments in Manhattan to hole-in-the-wall gems in Brooklyn. That kind of exposure is its own education and every bit as valuable as the lessons he learned Upstate. Watching him cross the stage to accept his degree, composed, confident, and genuinely proud, was like seeing years of hard work crystallize into something tangible. He’s no longer the boy standing next to me in the kitchen asking questions—he’s a man with his own talents, vision, dreams, and in possession of his own answers. In that moment, I felt not just pride, but awe and gratitude. As he hosted us at several of his favorite haunts in Hyde Park, my thoughts weren’t just on him but also on his sister. While the trip focused on my son’s accomplishments, my daughter has given me just as many reasons to beam with pride. Her kindness, intelligence, talent, and determination have shaped her into an incredible woman. Watching her support her brother every step of the way reminded me that success in life isn’t just about individual achievements, but about the relationships we build and nurture. Family. She’s pursuing her own dreams and seeing her alongside her fiancé— glowing with happiness and anticipation for their future— filled me with as much pride as watching my son on that stage. Both are forging paths shaped by the values my wife and I hoped to instill, yet entirely their own.
Parenting is a balancing act. We try to guide without controlling, teach without preaching, and love unconditionally. Seeing both of my children thrive makes me feel, at least for now, like we’ve done something right. Maybe the best thing I’ll ever do right. This week has been one of reflection and gratitude. There’s no greater joy than seeing the people you love succeed—not just professionally, but as kind, engaging, and grounded individuals. I know these moments won’t last forever. Long walks through a college campus, laughter around a dinner table, and even proud tears shed at a graduation will eventually be memories—significant, but still memories. Life’s milestones, as monumental as they seem, are just markers on a much bigger journey. And as I look ahead, I’m not just grateful for who they are today—I’m filled with hope and anticipation for who they’ll become. That specific pride I feel isn’t about me; it’s about them—their choices, their character, their journeys. If I’ve learned anything, it’s this: pride in your children isn’t just an emotion; it’s a quiet, lasting joy that stays with you long after the moment has passed. It’s the kind of pride that makes a parent’s heart swell and their eyes water, not because of anything we did, but because of everything they are. After graduation, as he and I were walking across the dark campus in a cold, light rain, I said, "Son, there’s a unique kind of pride a parent feels when their children accomplish something— a feeling I never understood until I became a father. It’s the greatest feeling in the world, and it’s how I feel right now. You can’t fully comprehend it yet, but one day, when you and your sister each have families and children of your own, you’ll know. I hope I’m there to see it— to see the moment you tell me, ‘Dad, now I understand.’" Onward.
Monkey Bread A perfect breakfast for a house full of teenage boys. This version instructs you to make them in individual muffin tins, but they can also be made in a casserole dish. I like to top the warm, finished product with a small pat of butter and a pinch of salt. Yield: 10 individual servings 1 cup Sugar 2 tsp Cinnamon ½ tsp Nutmeg 1/8 tsp Kosher Salt 1 batch Biscuit dough cut into 16 large biscuits, then quartered ¾ cup Unsalted Butter 1 cup Brown sugar Melted butter or non-stick spray Preheat oven to 350 degrees Combine the sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt in a large mixing bowl. Reserve ¼ cup. Gently toss the biscuit quarters in the sugar mixture. Lightly grease large muffin tins and place 6-7 pieces of prepared biscuit dough in each tin. Place the butter, brown sugar and ¼ cup of the leftover cinnamon/sugar mix in a small sauce pot. Place over medium-high heat and cook just long enough for the sugar to dissolve. Drizzle the butter mixture evenly over all the prepared biscuit pieces in the muffin tins. Bake for 25-30 minutes. Allow to rest for 5 minutes before serving.
