DH and I go to the outlaws’ house twice a month for dinner. He goes more often, by himself, but twice a month is more than enough for me. I’d go, well, never if I could but I understand that sometimes you are the bird and sometimes you are the statue (I’m the statue in this particular example) and you can’t always get what you want.
Mostly it’s better than I think it will be. I mean the food is almost always awful…overdone, dry, too oily, not enough salt, too much oregano….I could go on. But most visits are fine. We stay far too long in my opinion, but rarely is there drama these days, and bad food aside, it does make them happy to see us. But I still dread those every-other Monday dinners.
Last night we went to DH’s (ex)aunt’s house for dinner. We’ve invited her and her second husband for dinner to our house a few times and she felt the need to reciprocate. She’s a very nice lady and I enjoy her company. Her husband is a bit old school but whatever, it was dinner, how bad could it be? Especially as I endure the outlaws’ house twice a month.
Now, I’ve heard all about how his aunt is an excellent cook and I’ve not believed it, seeing as how it was DH telling me and no word of a lie, he’ll eat just about anything and not complain. I do know that she makes far and away the best shortbread and meringue cookies in the world so while I was looking forward to seeing the aunt, I was a bit wary about dinner. You never can tell with DH’s family….they’re talked up a lot and I’m often sadly disappointed with the cooking results.
I can say that over 12 hours later I am still full from dinner. And it was DELICIOUS. In fact, I’m thinking about asking DH to go once a month to see his aunt so she can feed us. Not only is she a good cook (a REALLY good cook), she’s a hands-off relative. There’s no “you’re not eating the rice?” meant-to-induce-guilt-comments (although hers was stellar and I don’t care for rice) or “eat more you’ve only had two porkchops” (for the record I had one….and a piece of chicken) or “why aren’t you eating this, I cooked all day” crap like we get at the outlaws. There was salt on the table and real dessert…two kinds of cake AND coconut pie…not picked over fruit like at the outlaws. DH doesn’t eat dessert unless it has chocolate on it and there was no recriminations. You don’t want to eat at the aunt’s house, you don’t have to. You have no idea how refreshing this is.
If I could only figure out how to get the aunt to cook for our twice-a-month dinners at the outlaws I’d be happy. Fat but happy.