Kate was eagerly looking forward to spending the holidays with her son and his wife. It was going to be her first Christmas with them as a family.
However, when Liz criticized Kate’s cooking, and her son, John, chose not to defend her, there was a worry about whether the holidays would become a disaster.
I’ve always loved cooking for my family, especially during the major holidays like Christmas. It has been my tradition ever since I got married.
But after losing Oliver, my husband, that joy diminished for me.
Nowadays, I cook just enough to keep going daily, but I rekindle my passion during the holidays when John visits for his annual Christmas roast dinner.
This time, however, the atmosphere in the kitchen was different.
Liz, John’s wife, was joining us for the first time this year.
In the past, while they were dating, she would spend the holidays with her own family instead of visiting us.
Which, truth be told, I understood, because holidays are about being with those who mean the most to you.
Anyway, curiosity grew within me as I anticipated how Liz would blend in with our family during the day. I woke up early that morning and started preparing the Christmas meal.
As usual, it was going to be an early dinner, accompanied by several side dishes and various desserts.
The traditional Christmas dinner menu was set, featuring chicken, roasted potatoes, and gravy as the centerpiece, alongside a host of other little dishes. Dishes that John loves. But Liz? She clearly wasn’t impressed. While I was putting the final touches on the chicken, Liz walked into the kitchen with her cellphone in hand, glancing at my cooking in a manner that suggested something foul. I tried to dismiss it as I was already sweating over the stove. Then, Liz said something that shook me to my core.
“Hey, Kate,” she began, “maybe we should just order in. Not everyone might appreciate your cooking. Every aspect of Christmas should be enjoyable, including the food!” Her words caught me completely off-guard. I watched as John, who was leaning casually against the doorframe, simply munched on a carrot, avoiding any eye contact with me. Tears threatened to spill, but I held them back.
With the guests almost all present, scattered throughout the house, I didn’t want to spoil the festive mood, despite Liz’s unkind words. The dinner bell chimed and soon enough, the table strained under the delicious feast. My guests, John included, were eagerly helping themselves and offering compliments for the meal I had slaved over all day. “Isn’t the food fantastic? Everyone’s enjoying it, right?” John questioned the table.
His uncle chuckled and plated more roasted potatoes.
“Why wouldn’t we savor my sister’s meals?” my brother quipped. “Because Liz suggested the dinner might be ruined by Mom’s dishes. She even suggested we order something instead.” “That’s nonsense!” my brother announced, drowning his potatoes in gravy. John turned and smiled at me, and it was then I realized my dear boy’s silence was not meant to hurt. Instead, he was waiting for this moment to quietly humiliate Liz in front of everyone. Liz turned red, embarrassed by the revelation, as everyone’s eyes turned towards her. Feeling a pang of sympathy for her, I noted it was her first Christmas with us, and things weren’t going well for her. Later, as I was cleaning up in the kitchen, Liz came in.
“Kate, I’m really sorry,” my daughter-in-law apologized, “What I did was wrong. I hope you can understand.” “Understand?” I echoed, though I did feel a bit guilty I was still nursing the hurt.
Liz repeated her apology, explaining, “I only suggested that because John always speaks about your cooking with such affection. I can’t even make a simple mac and cheese without him praising yours. I panicked seeing all this delicious food and knowing your bond with him through your cooking.”
I chuckled, aiming to lighten the mood, “You see, there’s something special between a boy and his mother’s meals. I can teach you to cook like me. My own mother taught me everything I know.” “Really?” she asked with hope.
“Even after what I said?” “Yes,” I replied with a gentle smile. Then, I guided her to the Christmas tree, ready to give Liz her gift. Though it still lingers in my heart, I find comfort knowing that her comment stemmed from insecurity rather than malice. Liz felt threatened by the bond between John and my cooking, rather than embracing the chance for new traditions with her culinary skills.
If you found yourself in a similar position, what would you do? Would you stay quiet like I did, waiting for the truth to surface, or would you have spoken up right then and there?
Here’s another story: Following the loss of her husband, Eliza, yearning to ensure her son’s happiness, insists on meeting his girlfriend. Excited to meet her, Eliza goes to great lengths to prepare for her arrival but is taken aback when she finally meets her.
