I wont eat that, the motherinlaw declared, eyeing the dish with disgust.
What is this? Éléonore asked, wrinkling her nose as if a bucket of garbage had been set before her.
Its potaufeu, her daughterinlaw Solène replied with a smile. She lifted the lid of a ceramic tureen and began ladling the steaming, colorful broth. Its a real pleasure to cook with vegetables from my own garden.
I dont see the point, the motherinlaw scoffed. But gardening does take a lot of effort!
Undoubtedly, Solène laughed warmly. When its a hobby, its always enjoyable.
Youre talking about your hobby, not some imposed pastime, Éléonore retorted, pursing her lips. For whom did you prepare all this?
For us, Solène answered. Its enough for two meals, not much more.
I wont touch that mush, the motherinlaw snapped, waving her hands and stepping back. This content is incomprehensible! Éléonore pretended to gag, covering her mouth and turning away from the table.
Solène rolled her eyes and sighed.
She had met Maxime, Éléonores son, a year and a half earlier. Their whirlwind romance led to a wedding a month later, without any lavish ceremony. With the savings theyd gathered, they bought a countryside house and were slowly turning it into a home.
Meanwhile, Solène had only seen Éléonore four timesjust as many times as Maxime. In fact, three of those visits were at Solènes urging, convincing her husband to stop by his mothers for the holidays.
Éléonore had always regarded her sons marriage as a folly. She had no control over her grown, independent child, so she resigned herself to what she saw as the natural, logical outcome. That outcome, however, was dragging its feet, and it was beginning to irritate her.
She could not understand what Maxime had found in this ordinary girl, and she wondered how Solène had managed to charm him. He was a handsome young man, constantly surrounded by more distinguished and attractive women.
Moreover, Éléonore was a city dweller through and through, having raised her son the same way. Her motherly instinct told her that Maxime already had enough of rural life and that a little push would restore things to how they had been.
After such a bitter experience, she was convinced he would finally find a partner who would forge genuine friendships with her.
But she had to hurry and ensure that clever Solène did not trap her son with a child!
Éléonore devised a plan: she called her daughterinlaw to ask for an invitation, since she had not been invited to the housewarming.
Solène reminded her that she had offered twice over the phone, but Éléonore had always declined, claiming she was busy. Éléonore brushed off those excuses with a flick of her hand and declared her intention to visit her son.
Two days later she found herself in a spacious, bright living room, barely containing her indignation.
Her son, like herself and her late husband, despised soups! In their family, only easily identifiable dishes were accepted.
How could Maxime let his wife take the lead so quickly? she wondered. Is she a witch?
A shiver of anxiety ran through Éléonore. She immediately dismissed the crude notion that Solène was keeping Maxime with bedroom tricks. Tricks and Solène? Incompatible! Surely a spell! she thought. Otherwise, how could my son be eating this mixture?
She shot a hateful glance at Solène, who pretended to be a saint while slowly murdering her husband.
Whats so incomprehensible? Solène asked, apparently oblivious to her motherinlaws act, as she filled a second bowl of potaufeu and handed it to Éléonore. Its simple. Theres cabbage, onions, carrots, and grated beets, according to my grandmothers recipe. No potatoes this time, but next time there will be. Then a few fresh herbs from the garden and a dash of cream.
Then eat your mush! the motherinlaw protested, waving her hands.
Youd need it at your age! Fiber regulates intestinal transit and improves gut flora. When the flora thrives, so does its owner! Solène said, blushing at her boldness. She continued, Why do you force Maxime to eat this?
Solène blinked, puzzled. He seems to like it.
What else can a man eat if theres nothing else?
Cook what he prefers? Order takeout? Visit a neighbor? See his mother? Solène listed with a smile.
Éléonore flushed even more at the last suggestion.
Dont be sarcastic! At least you could ask me what he likes, out of politeness.
Éléonore, I asked him directly. Hes old enough to speak for himself. He says he likes everything.
Hes lying! Cant you see? At first he didnt want to upset you. Now hes forcing it! Solène sighed, pulling a long face. The potaufeu is ready; we wont throw it away. He must try. Will you support him too?
What?! the motherinlaw exclaimed, eyes wide.
No? Too bad. Im sure your son would appreciate your solidarity.
You
Solène! Were home! Maximes cheerful voice echoed from the hallway.
A fluffy white cloud burst into the room, barking.
Aaaah! Éléonore shrieked, diving behind Solène.
Dont worry, thats Louna. She doesnt bite and is wellbehaved, Solène soothed, raising her hand. The dog calmed, sat obediently, and Solène praised her. Youre wonderful, little one.
Why are you letting the neighbors dogs in? Éléonore whispered, still shaken.
Theyre ours, not the neighbors. She lives inside with us, shes a house dog, Solène replied.
Inside? Thats unsanitary! the motherinlaw shouted. And Maxime hates dogs!
No, Mom, you dont like dogs. Hello, Maxime called as he entered. Youre just in time for lunch.
Hello, my son! Éléonore waited for a kiss on the cheek, but Maxime only gave a brief hug, while Solène received a soft kiss on the lips.
So, shall we eat? the master of the house sniffed the air with a dazed smile.
With pleasure, Maxime, but theres nothing.
What do you mean nothing?
You prepared food for the pigs. You never told me you had that. The smell must be worse than the city traffic.
Maxime stared at his mother, then at Solène, then at the set table. His neck muscles tightened, and his gaze returned to his mother, shedding the earlier lightness.
Honestly, Id forgotten those quirks, Misha (Maxime) said bitterly.
What quirks, my son? Our tastes, principles, traditions! You never complained! Éléonore retorted.
As a child I feared your wrath; as an adult I didnt want to worsen things with you, he replied.
What are you talking about?! Éléonore shouted, incredulous, prompting another round of Lounas barking. Quiet! she commanded, threatening the dog Solène held with her fist. She has her preferences, she grunted at Solène, but why let yourself be trampled? Happy feasting on junk? Let her turn the house into a menagerie? Who really rules this roof?
I, Maxime murmured darkly.
Then act like the master of the house! Éléonore declared, satisfied.
Wheres your luggage? Maxime asked.
Still at the entrance! she complained instantly. I havent eaten since the trip.
Perfect. Thank Solène for the invitation.
What?
Thank Solène for this final attempt at reconciliation and apologize.
But she
Mum!
Thankyou and excuseme, Éléonore grumbled angrily.
Solène nodded solemnly.
Lets go.
Where?
Where everything suits your taste, your rules, your traditions.
But Maxime, I she tried to reason, but he cut her off:
It was your tastes with dad, not mine. My opinion mattered little. Yet he once told me, You dont like whats ours; create your own. I followed that. Here its my taste, my rules, my traditions. And the lady of the house is my wife. Not happy? You still have your place.
My son! She turned you against me! Éléonore adopted a plaintive tone. She bewitched you! she whispered dramatically.
Maxime could take no more. He grabbed his mothers arm, led her to the entrance, grabbed her travel bag, opened the door, and silently escorted her to the gate, saying:
By the way, know that Solène was on your side. She gets along well with her relatives. She didnt think it could be like this at our place. In the kitchen a dish was made for you, but the potaufeu was the test. You showed your true face. He opened the door. The taxi is waiting.
You but how did you arrange a taxi?! Éléonore stammered, still stunned by her sons bluntness.
I told Solène to wait and not release you right away. She did the right thing.
You! But you! Éléonore erupted.
I, Mom, am the master of the house, just as you wanted, Maxime signaled the driver, set his mothers bag down before she could climb in, entered the property, and shut the door.
A spell, Éléonore concluded, convinced she had diagnosed her son. Already seated in the taxi, she fumbled for her phone, searching for a way to break the enchantment, certain there must be something that could bring her son back.
