So my in-laws came to visit us almost a year ago and since, I have started a bible with commandment laws that I have memorised, but still need to read each time before I meet them.
I need to admit that Madame T and Monsieur M, my boyfriend’s parents, are pretty cool and super nice to me, and therefor I need to be really thankful. I have heard some pretty nasty stories about Italian mothers protecting their beloved cubbie-bears from the evil daughters-in-law. But luckily for me, they’re caring and loving, and opened their heart and home to me from the time we met, and send me lots of presents. They even got us Santa knocking on the door on Christmas Day with presents…. They completely stole my heart with that beautiful gesture.
But, enough flowers. Is time for the ugly truth:
Last year, as you may have read on the other post, they came to visit.
Madame T, Vincenzo’s mother, kept on cooking all the time. She cooked so delicious! is true that Italian mothers are all about the food. So I thought I should cook for them at least once and give them to try something different. Colombian food! Why not?! Brilliant idea!
So we were, Vincenzo’s parents, sisters (only three of them, because one stayed in Italy), one of our flatmates and us. 2+3+1+2=8!
Omg 8! I had never cooked before for 8 people! I mean, I had cooked for maximum 4… ‘Ok, fine, everything is under control. Must be the same, just double’.
Even if I’m not virtuous preparing Colombian food, I thought it would be easy. I had the engredients, the time and the motivation. My grandma did it, she had nine babies. If she could, I could too. No fuzz!
I bought some empanadas and decided to keep it simple: I would make arepas (corn tortilla) with Carne desmechada (pulled beef in a typical Colombian stew), simple.
After three and a half hours cooking and using every single pan and pot from our kitchen, I managed to serve a wonderful meal: eight dishes of cold and chewy empanadas and smelly tasteless meat over a hard dry corn tortilla, which I managed to eat partially, thanks to the help of six glasses of water and almost an entire bottle of wine.
One of the sisters is vegetarian but saw how much effort I put on cooking, that she ate the whole plate, and poor her, she was just 15 years old so she couldn’t drink the wine. Seriously, how did she do it? Let’s be honest, the food was so terrible that not even I could eat it!
Embarrassed of myself, decided to down all the wine we had, and was still not enough to kill me or soak the dry throat that horrible tortilla left me….
What was the mother going to think? Would she think that her poor little boy was going to starve to death because of me? My drunk self started a big argument inside my head: Madame T needed to understand that we are a contemporary couple! Vincenzo cooks, I clean, organise and drink. At the same time, multitask! She should be grateful to have a daughter-in-law that can make cocktails like me! And did I mention that I can multitask? It’s a shame she doesn’t drink…
When the argument that was taking place in my head finished, I noticed that she didn’t complain or say anything about my cooking. Wow. I loved her for her solidarity, but still:
Rule No. 1:
NEVER COOK FOR YOUR ITALIAN PARENTS IN-LAW
Life with an Italian