I Won’t Eat That, Declared the Mother-in-Law, Casting a Disdainful Glance at the Dish

I wont eat that, the motherinlaw declared, looking at the dish with disgust.
Seriously, what is this? Eleanor sniffed, as if a bucket of trash had been set before her.
Its potaufeu, her daughterinlaw Solène replied with a smile, lifting the lid of a ceramic tureen and ladling the steaming, colorful broth. Its a real pleasure to cook with vegetables from our own garden.
The difference isnt clear to me, the motherinlaw sneered. But tending a garden does take a lot of effort!
Absolutely, Solène laughed warmly. When its a hobby, its always enjoyable.
Youre talking about your hobby, not one forced upon you, Eleanor sniffed, pursing her lips. For whom did you prepare all this?
For us. There isnt muchjust enough for two meals.
Im not going to eat that mush, the motherinlaw retorted, waving her hands and stepping back. This is incomprehensible! Eleanor pretended to gag, covering her mouth and abruptly averting her gaze from the table.
Solène rolled her eyes and sighed.
She had met Maxime, Eleanors son, a year and a half earlier. Their love was so intense they married a month later, without a lavish ceremony. With the money they saved, they bought a countryside house and, slowly, turned it into a home with affection.
During that time, Solène had seen Eleanor only four timesthe same number as Maxime. In fact, three of those visits were because Solène had persuaded her husband to visit his mother for the holidays.
Eleanor had always regarded her sons marriage as a folly, but she had no control over her adult, independent child, so she waited for what she considered the natural, logical outcome. That outcome kept being delayed, and it began to irritate her.
She couldnt understand what Maxime had found in this ordinary girl, nor how Solène could have captivated him. He was a handsome young man, constantly surrounded by more distinguished, attractive women.
Eleanor, a citydweller through and through, had raised her son the same way. Her maternal instinct told her Maxime already had enough of rural life and just needed a little push to return to the way things were. After that bitter experience, she was convinced he would finally find a partner who could forge genuine, friendly relationships with her.
She needed to act quickly so the clever Solène wouldnt trap her son with a child!
Eleanor devised a plan: she called her daughterinlaw to ask for an invitation, since she hadnt been invited to the housewarming. Solène reminded her that she had called twice, but Eleanor always declined, claiming she was busy. Eleanor brushed off those excuses with a wave of her hand and expressed her intention to visit her son.
Two days later she was standing in a spacious, bright living room, barely containing her indignation. Her son, like her and her late husband, despised soups! In their family, only clearly identifiable dishes were accepted.
How could Maxime have let his wife quickly dominate the situation? Was she a witch? A shiver of anxiety ran through Eleanor, and she instantly dismissed the crass thought that Solène was keeping Maxime with bedroom tricks.
Solène? Tricks? she muttered. Incompatible! A spell, surely! Otherwise, why would my son eat that mixture?
Eleanor shot a hateful glance at her daughterinlaw, who pretended to be a saint while slowly murdering her husband.
What makes it incomprehensible? Solène asked, apparently oblivious to her motherinlaws performance, as she filled a second bowl of potaufeu and handed it to Eleanor. Its simple. Theres cabbage, onions, carrots, grated beetrootmy grandmothers recipe. No potatoes this time, but next time there will be, plus some fresh garden herbs and a splash of cream!
Eat your mush! the motherinlaw shouted, waving her hands.
You could use it at your age! Fiber regulates the bowels and improves gut flora, and when the flora thrives, its owner does too!
Eleanor blushed at Solènes boldness but stayed silent and continued, Why are you forcing Maxime to eat this?
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? Go to a neighbor? Visit his mother? Solène listed, smiling.
At the last suggestion Eleanors face reddened even more.
Dont be sarcastic! At least ask me what he likes, out of politeness.
Eleanor, 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 sighed, pulling a longnecked bottle. The potaufeu is ready; we wont discard it. He must try. Will you support him too?
What?! the motherinlaw exclaimed, eyes wide at Solène.
No? Too bad. Im sure your son would appreciate your solidarity.
You
Solène! Were home! Maximes cheerful voice echoed from the hallway.
Suddenly a fluffy white dog burst into the living room, barking.
Aaah! Eleanor shrieked, fleeing behind Solène.
Dont worry, thats Louna. She doesnt bite and is welltrained, Solène said, raising a hand as the dog calmed and sat obediently. Sweetie, youre wonderful.
Why are you letting the neighbors dogs in? Eleanor whispered, shocked.
Why the neighbor? She belongs to us. Shes inside because shes a house dog. She lives with us.
Inside? Thats unsanitary! the motherinlaw exclaimed. And Maxime doesnt like dogs!
No, Mom, you dont like dogs. Maxime entered the room. Hello, youre just in time for lunch.
Hello, my son! Eleanor stood still, waiting for a kiss on the cheek, but Maxime gave only a brief hug, while Solène received a gentle kiss on the lips.
So, shall we eat? the host sniffed the air, smiling blissfully.
Gladly, 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, 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, he said, smiling bitterly.
What habits, my son? Our tastes, principles, traditions! You never complained!
As a child I feared your anger. As an adult I didnt want to worsen things with you.
What are you talking about?! Eleanor shouted, incredulous, prompting another round of Lounas barking. Quiet! she ordered, threatening the dog she was holding. She has her preferences, she snapped at Solène, but why let yourself be trampled? Happy to be fed filth? Let her turn the house into a menagerie? Who really rules this roof?
I Maxime murmured darkly.
Then act like the master of this place! Eleanor declared, pleased.
Wheres your luggage? Maxime asked.
Still by the entrance! I havent eaten since the trip.
Perfect. Thank Solène for the invitation.
What?
Thank Solène for this last attempt at reconciliation and apologize.
But she
Mom!
Thankyou and sorry, Eleanor grumbled spitefully.
Solène nodded solemnly.
Lets go.
To where?
To wherever everything suits you, according to your rules, your traditions.
But Maxime, I his mother began, 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. The lady of the house is my wife. Not happy? You still have your place.
My son! She turned you against me! Eleanor adopted a plaintive tone. She enchanted you! she whispered dramatically.
Maxime could take no more. He grabbed his mothers arm, led her to the door, grabbed her travel bag, opened the door, and silently carried her to the gate, saying:
By the way, know that Solène was on your side. She gets along with her relatives. She didnt think it would be like ours. In the kitchen a dish was prepared for you, but the potaufeu was the test. You showed your true face. He opened the door fully. The taxi is waiting.
You but how did you arrange a taxi?! Eleanor 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! But you! Eleanor fumed.
Its me, Mom, the master of the house, just as you wanted, Maxime signaled to the driver, placed his mothers bag on the ground without waiting for her to get in, reentered the property and shut the door.
A spell, Eleanor muttered, convinced she had diagnosed her son. Already seated in the taxi, she rummaged through her phone, searching for a way to break the enchantment, certain there must be something that could bring her son back to her.