I’m Not Eating That,” Declared the Mother-in-Law with a Look of Disgust at the Dish Before Her

I wont eat that, declared the motherinlaw, eyeing the dish with revulsion.
What is this? asked Éléonore, her nose wrinkling as if a bucket of trash had been set before her.
Its potaufeu, replied her daughterinlaw Solène with a smile, lifting the lid of a ceramic tureen and ladling out the steaming, colorful broth. Its a real pleasure to cook with vegetables from my own garden.
I dont see the point, scoffed the motherinlaw. But indeed, tending a garden takes a lot of effort!
Without a doubt, Solène laughed warmly. When its a hobby, its always enjoyable.
Youre talking about *your* hobby, not some imposed pastime, Éléonore sniffed, pursing her lips. For whom did you prepare this?
For us. Its not a lot, just enough for two meals.
Ill never touch that mush, the motherinlaw retorted, waving her hands and stepping back. This concoction is incomprehensible! Éléonore pretended to gag, covering her mouth and averting her gaze from the table.
Solène rolled her eyes and sighed.
She had met Maxime, Éléonores son, a year and a half earlier. Their love was so intense they married a month later, without a lavish ceremony. With their savings they bought a countryside house, slowly turning it into a home with affection.
In the meantime Solène had seen Éléonore only four timesjust as many as Maxime. In fact, three of those visits were at Solènes urging, convincing her husband to call on his mother for the holidays.
Éléonore had always viewed her sons marriage as a folly, yet she couldnt control her independent adult son, so she waited for what she considered the natural, logical outcome. That outcome was delayed, and it began to irritate her.
She didnt understand what Maxime could have found in this ordinary girl, nor how Solène had managed to charm him. He was a handsome young man, constantly surrounded by more refined and attractive women.
Moreover, Éléonore was a citydweller through and through, having raised her son the same way. Her motherly intuition told her Maxime had enough of rural life and just needed a small push to return to his former world. After such a bitter experience, she was convinced he would finally find a partner who would forge genuine friendships with her.
She had to act quickly and prevent the cunning Solène from trapping her son with a child!
Éléonore devised a scheme: she called her daughterinlaw to ask for an invitation, since she hadnt been invited to their housewarming. Solène reminded her that she had already called twice, but Éléonore always declined, claiming she was busy. Éléonore brushed off those excuses with a wave and declared she intended to visit her son.
Two days later she found herself in a spacious, bright living room, barely able to contain her indignation. Her son, like her and her late husband, despised soups! In their family only clearly identifiable dishes were accepted.
How could Maxime let his wife take charge so quickly? she wondered. Is she a witch? A shiver of anxiety ran through Éléonore, but she immediately dismissed the crude thought that Solène kept Maxime with bedroom tricks.
Solène? Incompatible! she muttered. Surely its a spell! Otherwise, how could my son be eating this mixture?
She shot a hateful glance at Solène, who pretended to be a saint while slowly killing her husband.
Whats so incomprehensible? Solène asked, seemingly oblivious to her motherinlaws performance, as she filled a second bowl of potaufeu and handed it to Éléonore. Its simple. Theres cabbage, onions, carrots, grated beetroot according to my grandmothers recipe. No potatoes this time, but next time there will be. Then a handful of fresh garden herbs and a splash of cream!
Eat your mush! the motherinlaw protested, flailing her arms.
You could use it at your age! Fiber regulates digestion and improves gut flora. When the flora thrives, its owner does too!
Éléonore blushed at Solènes boldness but said nothing, continuing, Why do you force Maxime to eat that?
Solène blinked, puzzled. He seems to like it.
What can a man do if theres nothing else to eat?
Cook what he prefers? Order takeout? Visit a neighbor? Go to his mothers? Solène listed with a smile.
At the last suggestion Éléonores cheeks reddened further.
Dont be sarcastic! At least ask me what he likes, out of courtesy.
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 himself!
Ah! Solène drew a long face and sighed. The potaufeu is ready; we wont throw it away. He must try. Will you support him too?
What?! the motherinlaw gasped at Solènes suggestion.
No? Too bad. Im sure your son would appreciate your solidarity.
You
Solène! Were home! Maximes cheerful voice rang from the hallway.
A fluffy white cloud burst into the living room, barking wildly.
Aaaah! Éléonore screamed, cowering behind Solène.
Dont worry, its Louna. She doesnt bite and shes welltrained, Solène reassured, raising her hand. The dog calmed, sat obediently. My little one, youre wonderful.
Why let the neighbours dogs in? Éléonore whispered, still shocked.
Why neighbours? Shes ours. She stays inside because shes a housedog. She lives with us.
Inside? Thats unsanitary! the motherinlaw exclaimed. And Maxime hates dogs!
No, Mom, you dont like dogs. Maxime entered the room, smiling. Youre just in time for lunch.
Hello, my son! Éléonore froze, waiting for a kiss on the cheek; Maxime gave her a brief hug, while Solène received a gentle peck on the lips.
So, shall we eat? Maxime sniffed the air, a sleepy grin on his face.
With pleasure, Maxime, but theres nothing.
What do you mean, nothing?
You prepared food for the pigs. You never mentioned you had that. The smell must be worse than the city traffic.
Maxime looked perplexed at his mother, then at Solène, then at the set table. His neck muscles tightened, and his gaze returned to his mother, losing the earlier lightness.
Honestly, Id forgotten those habits, Misha (Maxime) said bitterly.
What habits, my son? Our tastes, our principles, our traditions! Youve never complained!
As a child I feared your wrath. As an adult I didnt want to aggravate you.
What are you talking about?! Éléonore shouted, incredulous, triggering another round of Lounas barking. Silence! she demanded, threatening the dog Solène held. She has her preferences, she growled at Solène, but why let yourself be trampled? Happy to be fed trash? Let her turn the house into a menagerie? Who truly rules this roof?
I Maxime murmured darkly.
Then act like the master of this place! Éléonore declared, pleased.
Wheres your luggage? Maxime asked.
Always by the entrance! she complained instantly. And I havent eaten since the journey.
Perfect. Thank Solène for the invitation.
What?
Thank Solène for this final attempt at reconciliation and apologize.
But she
Mom!
Thankyouandsorry, Éléonore grumbled.
Solène nodded solemnly.
Lets go.
Where?
Where everything suits you, according to your rules, your traditions.
But Maxime, I Éléonore began, trying to reason, but Maxime cut her off:
It was your taste with Dad, not mine. My opinion mattered little. Yet he once told me, You dont like whats ours; create your own. I followed his advice. 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. Shes bewitched you! she whispered dramatically.
Maxime could endure no more. He seized his mothers arm, led her to the door, 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 with her family. She never thought it would be like this at our place. In the kitchen a dish was prepared for you. The potaufeu was the test. You showed your true face, Maxime opened the door. The taxi is waiting.
You but how did you arrange a taxi?! Éléonore stammered, stunned by her sons bluntness.
I told Solène to wait and not release you right away. She did the right thing.
You! You! Éléonore fumed.
I, Mom, am the master of the house, just as you wanted, Maxime signaled the driver, set his mothers bag on the ground without waiting for her to board, entered the property, and shut the door.
A spell, Éléonore concluded, convinced shed diagnosed her son. Already seated in the taxi, she dug into her phone, searching for a way to break the enchantment, certain there must be something that would bring her son back.