In the early years of our marriage, everything was perfectly normal, we both agreed on everything! says Emily, 28. We both worked tirelessly, saving every penny for the deposit on our mortgage. Never had any trouble with meals. My husband ate whatever was put in front of him! I didnt sweat the details, bought a slow cooker, and cooked quick, simple meals porridge, stews, soups, never an ounce of complaint. Well, sometimes, my husband would stare dreamily into the distance and mumble about wanting something special
What sort of special thing?
Pancakes, for instance, filled with minced beef. Or rare cold consommés, or pies. Its as if hes bewitched by those complicated English dishes that take hours and come in stages: boiling, cooling, sifting, wrapping dough, boiling again, then mincing. Its a whole circus at the cooker, really, brrr And dont you dare buy them ready-made! Thats not what he means at all! He wants home-cooked food, made with my own hands
Hmm. When did his cravings start?
Well, about two years after I started maternity leave Honestly, Im not fond of cooking. But I always cook! My husband spends the whole day in the office, earning for us. So it would never happen that he comes home in the evening and theres nothing at all for supper. Theres always hot food, and not just pasta and sausages. Still, its pretty basic: potatoes and beef, chicken, stew, salad. Yet my husband grumbles! Youre home all day, you could easily make pastry, homemade dumplings or stuffed cabbage rolls I get it. Maternity leave means endless time, the whole day to yourself, and men, as a rule, forget about the child needing care
Thats not even it! Our daughter is pure gold, a gift of a child. Shes calm and content, you can plonk her on a kitchen chair, give her a lump of dough and shell sit there as long as it takes. We sing songs, recite nursery rhymes. She never bothers me! I just dont want to waste time on these fiddly things. Especially as I wouldnt even eat that sort of food! Im on a diet, trying to eat less meat and Ive cut out bread altogether. Am I to whip up a batch of dumplings, just for my husband? Isnt it a bit much?
So, Emily and her husband seem to live well: he rushes home from work, never dawdles, only attends the office party once a year, and even thats brief. He helps with their daughter and does it gladly, of his own accord. Plays, bathes her, walks with her.
Yet theres this one problem: lately, hes been harping on about pickles and last week we actually had quite a row, didnt speak for days.
My husband, honestly, cannot seem to grasp that its very hard: make dough from scratch, bake a dozen pancakes, stuff them with meat? He feels slighted, believing his wife cooks only the bare minimum, whatevers easiest. He thinks she doesnt try to please or surprise him
I find it hard! Emily complains. Cook the meat, mix the dough, bake the pancakes, fill them I wouldnt even eat them, so I have to cook something else for me and our daughter!
Emily reckons that nowadays nobody makes steak and kidney pudding, aspic or stuffed cabbage rolls well, perhaps once a year at Christmas Eve. And young people dont bother with festive spreads either. Day-to-day, its just so. If youre desperate for pies, you can get them delivered, although thats not exactly cheap, especially with a wife on maternity leave and a mortgage hanging over you. To be honest, not for every day.
Her husband compares Emily to his grandmother, who always smelt of pies and buns. She worked all her life, but managed to do everything, even with several kids.
Exactly! Emily snaps. Women in olden times had nothing else to do in the evenings. No telly, no internet. So they made up chores, invented washing and baked dumplings. Id rather spend time with my child. Go for a stroll instead of dancing around the cooker for three hours
Not long ago, Emily rang her mother-in-law and with a gentle, almost patronising tone, started explaining that the way to a mans heart is through his stomach, and that its not difficult to cook what her husband wants. Looks like hed already had a moan to his mum.
I told her I dont eat those cabbage rolls, so I dont want to make them! Of course, immediately, oh, poor dear, as if you know, just like that, a fuss, but men did cook too!
The gourmand husband, what can you say? Whilst the house has fresh, hot food every day, to demand a different intricate meal all the timeisnt it cheeky? He should eat whats served and save the drama, and if hes after fancy sausage pies, he can make them himself!
Or should Emily heed her husbands wishes?
