A chilling discovery inside motherinlaws pot
Motherinlaw peeked into the pot and let out a horrified scream
MarieNoëlle awoke at dawn and, as usual, headed for the kitchen of her house in the Lyon suburbs. To her amazement, her daughterinlaw was already bustling around the stove.
Good morning, Anastasie greeted with a smile, stirring something in the pot.
Morning, MarieNoëlle grumbled, scrunching her nose. What are you making?
A pistou soup, the daughterinlaw replied without looking up. Olivier loves it.
A pistóu soup? the motherinlaw sniffed skeptically. Does it usually smell like that?
How is it supposed to smell, then? Anastasie shrugged, covered the pot and left the kitchen.
Without missing a beat, MarieNoëlle rushed to the stove, lifted the lid and peered inside. What she saw made her let out a gasp of terror.
What on earth is this mixture? she whispered, stepping back as if facing poison.
Anastasie returned with plates and, seeing her motherinlaws reaction, calmly explained:
Its a pistou soup, MarieNoëlle. The vegetables are from our gardenfresh, just picked. Cooking with your own produce feels like a celebration.
A celebration? the motherinlaw scoffed, crossing her arms. That garden is a chore! Why waste time digging when you can buy everything at the supermarket? I dont get you.
I love it, Anastasie answered softly while ladling the soup. The aroma of basil, beans and tomatoes filled the kitchen. The earth gives so much energy when you work with it.
Energy? MarieNoëlle rolled her eyes. Its a pastime for people who have nothing better to do. Normal folks She stopped abruptly when she saw Anastasie still smiling, as if the jibes didnt reach her. And for whom did you make this?
For us, the daughterinlaw replied. For a few days. Olivier keeps going back for more.
MarieNoëlle stepped back dramatically, as if the smell itself made her ill.
I wont eat that! she declared emphatically. The scent alone makes me nauseous! What did you put in it?
Anastasie sighed, avoiding her motherinlaws gaze. From the corner of her eye she spotted Olivier entering the kitchen, watching silently.
MarieNoëlle couldnt understand what had happened to her son. Just two years ago, Olivier was a promising citydwelling IT professional. They attended exhibitions together, talked about new restaurants, dreamed of his career. Now they lived in the countryside, tended a garden, and dealt with a simple woman like Anastasiejust hearing her name sent a shiver of irritation through her.
Olivier had always been an enviable catchtall, bright, charming. How many welltodo girls had sighed over him! Why had he chosen a country girl and a tiny, hidden house? MarieNoëlle hoped he would tire of it and return to the city. Yet month after month, he sank deeper into this rural idyll.
She decided to act. Anastasies invitation was the perfect chance. The motherinlaw crafted a plan: remind her son of who he really was and pull him out of the countryside before it was too late.
Olivier stepped into the kitchen, hugged his wife, and turned to his mother:
Mom, try the soup. Anastasie has made it perfectly!
Olivier, you know your father and I have never eaten those peasant soups, MarieNoëlle retorted. I remember you making a face at pistou as a child, calling it an oldpeoples dish.
Anastasie smiled despite herself, imagining a young Olivier spurning his plate. But now he was an adult, and his tastes had changed.
Mom, times have changed, he laughed. Anastasies soup is a masterpiece. Taste it, youll see.
A masterpiece? the motherinlaw sputtered in outrage. Olivier, you call a pot of beans a masterpiece? Real masterpieces belong in theatres and museums, not in this kitchen stew!
A Chilling Discovery in the Mother-in-Law’s Cauldron
