My dad only knew how to cook a few dishes, but he was proud of each one. He loved making boxed mac and cheese. It was usually the blue generic box, and not brand named KD (Kraft Dinner for anyone not from Canada).
Dad would start by heating a few tablespoons of margarine in a tiny, janky aluminium pot, stirring in the cheese powder, adding in some fresh milk. He cooked the noodles in a larger copper-bottom pot, draining it, and then adding back his special sauce.
He served the macaroni with canned brown beans, which he spiced up with mustard and pepper, along with sliced wieners. He served the beans on the side, which I would immediately mix in with the mac as soon as the bowl hit the table. I would add generic branded catsup and preground black pepper, and would devour the bowl in a few minutes.
I still make macaroni and cheese, with baked beans and sausage. My kids call it a garbage plate, and it has always been one of their favourite comfort meals. I think of my father every time I make it, and even now it brings equal parts joy and sadness. He tried so hard.