What is it with men and their mother’s cooking?

I understand that we all grow up with a certain cuisine and it brings back memories of home and no matter what crap your mother churns out, you  grow up remembering it kindly. Fine… but why does mamma’s cooking have to be such a holy cow?

I’ve grown up seeing my dad rave about his mom’s cooking and to be honest I’ve never understood the hullaballoo surrounding it. Granny’s biryani was his favourite. Anyway, I took the OA along to her home as an impartial judge. He loves food and he loves my dad and I wanted to know if he thought the food was as lip smacking as dad claimed. After a couple of meals he agreed that the cooking was good, but definitely over-rated. That my dad’s praise was that of a son’s for his mother’s cooking. So obviously it’s a son thing. Maybe a daughter thing too, but then most women end up learning the dishes they like and don’t torment their husbands to cook for them. 

A few days ago I made a tomato rasam (from my Tam roots ) and a dry, almost crispy potato dish that my Bengali grandparents favoured. A mixed up meal if any in terms of its roots, but it came together very well. The OA came home and decided that this was a meal from Western India that I must have picked up from his mother. I disabused him of that notion really quick because though it was nice to see that fond smile on his face, I am nothing if not brutal and honest. On the other hand, I am assuming it’s high praise to be told something turned out the way his mother makes!

His mother brings a special type of papad when she comes visiting and those are guarded jealously though he generously offers them to guests to treat them to something new. I love eating up those very ones just to annoy him!

I am also very amused by mothers who feel their sons need to eat exactly what they cook at home. And most often the wives are exhorted to learn the son’s favourite dishes. The first visit from the mother in law and the DIL has a whole range of dishes to learn -just like mamma’s little darling son likes it made.

Why is it that sons in law are never given a list of what the daughter likes to eat and where she likes to shop and exactly how she likes her cup of tea made - one cube of sugar, milk separate, please.

I think the first thing that shocked my in laws when they visited was that after a late night at office I didn’t wake up early to give my husband bed tea, cook him a hot, traditional breakfast, pack him a hot lunch and fondly wave him goodbye from the door. Three days a week I worked almost 24 hours and would only come back in the wee hours of the morning… an hour or so before the OA left for work. So I’d come home and crash, an hour later he’d get out of bed and leave for office. He had a hope in hell if he thought I was going to make him a hot breakfast after pulling a 20 hour day. And on days that I did wake up, it was simple cornflakes, porridge, cold cuts, preserves and hot toast, eggs or pancakes. If I’m getting up and cooking breakfast despite us both having to go to work, then I am cooking what I feel like and find convenient. But the door to the kitchen lies wide open - if you feel a craving for something special, feel at home and feed your own face. I am not taking fine dining orders early in the morning when I am in as much of a rush to get to work.  

Now in my case, the OA is not really a breakfast person. Once he left home he stopped bothering with breakfast - grabbing a cup of tea as he got into office, as most bachelors do. I on the other hand was really particular about starting the day right, never mind if I eat nothing else during the day. So I would get up and make myself a sandwich or get a bowl of cornflakes. The OA if given a choice, prefers heavy Indian breakfasts - but I wasn’t really giving him a choice. Eat whats on the table or go hungry was the choice and he ate with good grace.

What really annoys me though, is the assumption that despite husband and wife both working, most wives are still expected to get up and provide breakfast. And I speak of the average Indian home. Not Indians abroad or a select few in India.

Of course when mothers come visiting, the first thing they do is start cooking their son’s favourite dishes and you can hear the table groaning under the weight of the food. I don’t really grudge it - but I think what bothers me is the inability to see a mother as someone beyond a cook.

Daughters often talk of something they learned from their mothers. A pearl of wisdom shared between mother and daughter. But sons - all they remember is their mother’s cooking. Even sons of working mothers fail to recall what their mother’s accomplishments at work might have been - when mamma visits, she needs to make her famous fish fry. That’s all.

A few days ago a friend visited and he and the OA commiserated over how his wife and I (we’ve grown to be really fond of each other despite meeting rarely) tease them about mamma’s cooking. The issue is no longer handing over the kitchen. Fine. Go - take over the kitchen and rule if you wish. The issue is that we’re never asked what we would like to eat. For instance I don’t eat chili hot food and so if a meal is very hot, I end up eating bread and butter. There are also a few vegetables I wouldn’t touch with a barge pole and yet on certain days those are the only things available on the table. Apparently we all have the same problem! And yet, when the OA goes visiting my  home or my parents are visiting, they take into consideration his dietary requirements and wishes. So breakfast, lunch and dinner are all made to his liking. I say this is unfair. I get a raw deal every time!

I recently read this post at Salil’s and I found it hilarious and wise! And on a serious note, I think it’s unfair that we need to resort to such subterfuge.

I always swore that I would build a real relationship with my son. One where he didn’t pick up the phone to call me out of a sense of duty. That he wouldn’t think Mamma only when he saw food. That his wife would not be tortured into burning or leaving food semi cooked just so that it would taste like mamma’s cooking. But everything you are determined about comes back to bite you in the butt.

Yesterday being Sunday we had a lazy breakfast with the entire family waking up later. The cook had already arrived and so for once she began to make breakfast. As she rolled out the pancakes, the Brat turned up his little snub nose, looked at his father and said - ‘Yeh nahi khayega. Mamma breakfast banayega’.

I looked around for a knife to plunge into my heart while the OA rolled around on the floor laughing. If the Brat can want his mother’s awful cooking above another’s it must be hardwired in the male brain!

My mother kindly disabused me from that notion later by mentioning that he proably likes my cooking because I involve him in it. Letting him sit by me, help me and look into the pan as I cook… Gee thanks ma. Just when my self esteem climbed up a notch!