When I finally moved in with Mr Posy, and his family moved in to a house across the road, my mother-in-law cried when we told her that we didn’t want her to clean our house, do our laundry, or cook for us every night. After much negotiation, Mr Posy finally got her to agree to bringing meals over only twice per week. I suspect she was concerned that he would starve, and any less was not going to fly with my MIL.
Most people that hear this tale lament over how nice it must be to have meals cooked for us a couple of times a week, and are usually quite taken aback that I am not equally as enthusiastic about it.
Let me take a guess at the amazing Greek dishes you’re envisioning Mr Posy’s mother cooks up for us… Delicious fresh salads, trays of Moussaka, Spanakopita, Dolmades, Stuffed Zucchini Flowers, Skordalia, hearty soups, grilled octopus/squid/calamari, Prassorizo, oven-baked lamb with potatoes?
I still remember that look of shock on Little Miss Moi’s face when I told her that this was not the cuisine that my MIL cooks up at all. My mother-in-law has a deep fryer, and as such, meals are usually of the battered-and-fried variety. Only, she cooks the meals up long before we arrive home from work, so one could imagine the mushy-plate-of-grease that greets us. I’m not a big lover of fried food at the best of times, let alone when it has been left sitting around for hours to go cold and soggy.
It took two years of my MIL sending over semi-weekly meals, but I finally gave in and ate a dinner that she cooked up.
It had been a long week at work, I was hungry and completely exhausted, and Mr Posy microwaved it for me. I don’t think I’ve ever put away a meal so fast in my life.
The dinner was tastier than your regular microwave-meal, and just what I needed at the time. A bit like a late-night-dirty-cheeseburger-run after a few too many wines, really.