I Won’t Eat That, Declared the Mother-in-Law with a Look of Disgust at the Dish

I wont eat that, the motherinlaw said, eyeing the dish with disgust.
I’m not going to touch that, she declared, staring repulsively at the potaufeu on the table.
What is this? Eleonore wrinkled her nose, as if a bucket of trash had been placed 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 yes, spending time in the garden does take a lot of effort!
Definitely, Solène laughed warmly. When its a hobby, its always enjoyable.
Youre talking about your hobby, not one forced upon you, Eleonore sniffed, pressing her lips together. For whom did you prepare all this?
For us. Its not much, just enough for two meals.
Ill never eat this mush, the motherinlaw retorted, waving her hands and stepping back. This stuff is incomprehensible! Eleonore pretended to gag, covering her mouth with her hand and quickly averting her gaze from the table.
Solène rolled her eyes and sighed.
She had met Maxime, Eleonores son, a year and a half earlier. Their love was so intense that they married a month later, without a lavish ceremony. With the money they saved, they bought their shared dream: a country house, which they were gradually turning into a home with care.
During that time, Solène had seen Eleonore only four timesexactly as many as Maxime. In fact, three of those occasions were because Solène had persuaded her husband to visit his mother for the holidays.
Eleonore had always regarded her sons marriage as a folly. Yet she had no control over her grown, independent son, so she felt she had to wait for what she saw as the natural, logical outcome.
That outcome kept getting delayed, and it was beginning to irritate her.
She didnt understand what Maxime could have found in this plain girl and wondered how Solène managed to win him over. He was a handsome young man, constantly surrounded by more elegant and attractive women.
Moreover, Eleonore was a true citydweller, having raised her son the same way. Her maternal instinct told her that Maxime already had enough of rural life and that a little nudge would bring everything back to how it was before.
After such a bitter experience, she was convinced he would finally find a partner who would forge genuine, friendly ties with her.
But she had to act quickly and prevent the clever Solène from trapping her son with a child!
Eleonore devised a plan: she called her daughterinlaw to ask to be invited, since she hadnt been asked to their housewarming.
Solène reminded her that she had extended two phone invitations, but Eleonore always slipped away, claiming she was busy. Eleonore brushed those excuses aside with a wave 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 her and her late husband, despised soups! In their family, only easily recognizable dishes were accepted.
How could Maxime have let his wife quickly dominate the situation? Was she a sorceress?
A chill of anxiety ran through Eleonore. She instantly dismissed the crude thought that Solène was holding Maxime with bedroom prowess.
Tricks and Solène? Incompatible! Surely a spell! Otherwise, how could her son be eating this mixture?
Eleonore stared at her daughterinlaw with hatred. She pretended to be a saint while slowly assassinating her husband.
Whats so incomprehensible? Solène asked, seeming oblivious to her motherinlaws act, as she filled a second bowl of potaufeu and handed it to Eleonore. Its simple. Theres cabbage, onions, carrots, and grated beets, just like my grandmothers recipe. I didnt get any potatoes this time, but Ill have them next round. Then a handful of fresh garden herbs and a dash of cream.
Eat your mush! the motherinlaw exclaimed, waving her hands.
Youd really need it at your age! Fiber helps regulate bowel movements and improves gut flora. When the flora flourishes, its owner does too!
Eleonore flushed at Solènes boldness but said nothing, continuing, Why are you forcing Maxime to eat that?
Solène blinked, puzzled. He seems to like it.
What can a man do when theres nothing else to eat?
Cook what he prefers? Order takeout? Visit a neighbor? See his mother? Solène listed with a smile.
At the last suggestion Eleonores cheeks reddened even more.
Dont be sarcastic! You could at least ask me what he likes, out of politeness.
Eleonore, 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 he forces himself!
Ah! Solène drew a longnecked bottle and sighed. The potaufeu is ready; were not throwing it away. He has to try. Will you both support it?
What?! the motherinlaws eyes widened at Solène.
No? Too bad. Im sure your son would appreciate your solidarity.
You
Solène! Were back! Maximes cheerful voice echoed from the hallway.
A fluffy white cloud burst into the living room, barking.
Aaaah! Eleonore screamed in terror and hid behind Solène.
Dont worry, its Louna. She doesnt bite and shes very wellbehaved, Solène reassured, raising her hand. The dog calmed and sat obediently. Sweetie, youre wonderful.
Why do you let the neighbors dogs in? Eleonore whispered, still shocked.
Why neighbors? Shes ours. And inside, because shes a domestic dog. She lives with us.
Inside? Thats unsanitary! the motherinlaw exclaimed. And Maxime doesnt like dogs!
No, Mom, you dont like dogs. Hello, Maxime said as he entered the room. Youre just in time for lunch.
Hello, my son! Eleonore stood still, waiting for a kiss on the cheek, but Maxime only gave her a light hug, while Solène received a gentle kiss on the lips.
So, shall we eat? the host sniffed the air, a blissful smile on his face.
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 looked at his mother, puzzled, then at Solène, and finally at the set table.
His neck muscles tightened, and his gaze returned to his mother, lacking the earlier lightness.
Honestly, Id forgotten those quirks, Misha said, bitterly.
What quirks, my son? Our tastes, principles, traditions! You never complained!
Me? As a child I feared your wrath. As an adult I didnt want to worsen things with you.
What are you talking about?! Eleonore shouted, incredulous, triggering another round of Lounas barking. Silence! she protested, threatening the dog Solène held with her fist. She has her preferences, she gritted at Solène, but why let yourself be trampled? Happy to be fed junk? Let her turn the house into a menagerie? Who really rules this roof?
Me, Maxime murmured darkly.
Then act like the master of the house! Eleonore declared, pleased.
Wheres your luggage? Maxime asked.
Always at the entrance! she complained instantly. I havent eaten since the trip.
Great. Thank Solène for the invitation.
What…?
Thank Solène for this final attempt at reconciliation and apologize.
But she
Mom!
Thankyou and excuseme, Eleonore muttered angrily.
Solène nodded solemnly.
Lets go.
Where?
Where everything suits you, according to your rules, your traditions.
But Maxime, I she tried to reason with her son, 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 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! Eleonore assumed a plaintive tone. She enchanted you! she whispered dramatically.
Maxime had had enough. He grabbed his mother by the 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 family. She didnt think it would be like at our place. In the kitchen a dish was made for you, but 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?! Eleonore stammered, still stunned by her sons bluntness.
I told Solène to wait and not let you leave right away. She did the right thing.
You! You! Eleonore fumed.
I, Mom, 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 get in, entered the property, and closed the door.
A spell, Eleonore concluded, convinced she had diagnosed her son. Already seated in the taxi, she dug through her phone searching for a way to break the enchantment. There had to be something that would bring her son back.