In the early years of our marriage, we lived together like any normal couple he agreed with everything! Sarah, 28, said as her eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and nostalgia. We both worked incredibly hard, saving every penny for the deposit on our mortgage. We never struggled with food. My husband ate whatever was put in front of him! I didnt fuss I bought a slow cooker and made quick, simple meals: porridge, stew, soups. Not once did he complain. Well, sometimes hed wistfully mention wanting something special
What did he mean by special? asked the interviewer, leaning forward.
Pancakes, for example, with a hearty meat filling. Or proper Yorkshire puddings, or hand-made pies. He seems obsessed with complicated dishes that require several steps: boiling, chilling, sieving, making dough, cooking again, then chopping a whole day of messing about in the kitchen, honestly, it drives me mad And dont even try to buy them ready-made thats not what he wants! He insists food should be handmade, at home
Sarah sighed, her frustration palpable as she remembered. When did he start these fantasies?
Oh, it was about two years after I started my maternity leave Honestly, I dont enjoy cooking. But I always cook! My husband works all day at the office, earning for our family. Its never the case that he comes home in the evening to find an empty kitchen. Theres always a hot meal, and its not just pasta and sausages. But its always simple: potatoes and beef, roast chicken, soup, casserole, salad. Yet my husband grumbles! He says, You spend all day at home, surely you could make pastry, homemade dumplings, stuffed cabbage rolls
Sarahs voice cracked as she recalled his complaints. I get it in his mind, maternity leave means endless free time, forgetting that I have a child to care for. But it isnt even the child! Our daughter is a dream calm, considerate, the sort that could sit on a kitchen chair with a lump of dough and play for hours. We sing songs, recite nursery rhymes together. She doesnt make things harder! I just dont want to waste my life on these chores. Especially since I wont even eat the food! Im dieting, avoiding meat and cutting out flour completely. Am I supposed to make homemade dumplings just for my husband? It feels over the top
So life with Sarah and her husband was, on the surface, comfortable: he hurried home after work, never late, only attended the office party once a year and only briefly. He helped her with their daughter, entirely of his own accord playing games, bathing her, taking her for walks.
But recently, hes started craving pickles and pies; last week, they had a huge row over it, and didnt speak for days.
Her husband, truly, seems unable to grasp how challenging it is: making dough for an egg, baking a dozen pancakes, filling them with meat? Hes offended, thinking his wife cooks out of obligation, always choosing the easier option. He wants her to surprise him, to make him feel special.
Its hard for me! Sarah snapped, voice trembling. First cook the meat, then make dough, then bake pancakes, then stuff them I wouldnt eat that sort of thing anyway, so Id have to cook something else for myself and our daughter!
Sarah believes no one nowadays spends hours making steak-and-kidney pies or boiling pigs trotters or rolling cabbage for stuffed rolls. Maybe once a year, at Christmas. Young people just arent fussed with festive spreads. If youre desperate for pies, you can order them though its a pricey treat, especially with a wife on maternity leave and a mortgage. Its not an everyday luxury.
Her husband keeps comparing Sarah to his gran, who always smelled of freshly baked bread and pastries. She worked all her life, yet managed to bake for a houseful of children.
Thats the thing! Sarah snapped, her irritation barely contained. Women in the last century literally had nothing else to do in the evenings! No TV, no Internet. So they made up jobs for themselves. Laundry, baking dumplings. I think its better to spend time with your child take a walk, rather than dance round the oven for three hours
Just recently, Sarah called her mother-in-law, who gently reminded her, The way to a mans heart is through his stomach, and its really not that hard to make what he wants. Apparently, her husband had already aired his grievances to his mum.
I told her I dont eat cabbage rolls, so I dont want to make them! Of course, she clucked on, saying loads of men cooked too!
So whats to be done with her gourmand husband? While the house always has fresh, hot food, is it cheeky of him to expect a wide variety of dishes every day? Should he eat whats cooked and not make a fuss, or, if he fancies something special, make it himself?
Or should Sarah listen to her husbands wishes and try to please him? The tension hung in the air like smoke after a long dayunresolved, persistent, and so British in its quiet drama.
