What’s gotten into you today?»
— Anna Mikhaylovna looked sternly at her daughter-in-law, as if trying to bore a hole through her with her gaze. «Have you decided to start a rebellion?»
Lena calmly endured that look and replied in an even tone, without any hint of agitation:
«If you don’t like something, you can simply leave. The door’s to your right.»
The situation seemed absurd even to Lena herself. She had always believed that her cooking was pretty good. Moreover, her husband constantly praised her dishes. He was particularly enthusiastic about her signature borschts, juicy cutlets, and perfectly baked pastries. However, everything changed when she encountered Anna Mikhaylovna—the mother-in-law who turned out to be a true connoisseur, but not particularly generous with compliments.
Every time she tasted Lena’s dishes, the mother-in-law found something to criticize. Either the potatoes weren’t soft enough, or the soup was «too watery,» and once she even declared that the cutlets had a «strange aftertaste.» In short, the kitchen that her family had always admired and adored suddenly turned into a «dump,» the kind that «even normal people would be ashamed to serve.»
It pained Lena to hear such words. After all, her husband and son literally delighted in every dish she prepared. She especially took pride in her pastries: the pies came out fluffy, the charlotte aromatic, and the cookies crisp. All of this made her even more upset by her mother-in-law’s constant remarks.
«Don’t mind her,» her husband comforted her, putting his arm around her shoulder. «The main thing is that I enjoy it. Understand, she means no harm. It’s just her… let’s say, original way of helping you become better.»
«Well, help is a generous word,» Lena retorted indignantly. «With comments like those, she’ll scare everyone away.»
«She already has,» her husband sighed. «You know, she isn’t even on speaking terms with Aunt Shura anymore. She got upset with my mom because she called her fried potatoes ‘burnt.'»
«Maybe she should just stop eating as a guest altogether?» Lena suggested, though she knew it was more of a joke than a real solution.
«Perhaps,» agreed her husband, but he added, «once she’s like this, there’s no changing her. All we can do is endure.»
«Or at least not invite her to our home,» Lena complained, looking at him disapprovingly.
«Come on, Lena, we agreed to celebrate her birthday at our place,» he reminded her.
«Yes, we did,» Lena sighed heavily, feeling a rising anxiety inside.
Preparations for the celebration began two weeks before the event. Lena decided to use this opportunity to prove she could set an «ideal table.» She called her mother-in-law to inquire about her preferences.
«Anna Mikhaylovna, you haven’t forgotten about our family celebration, have you?» she asked, striving to speak as politely as possible.
«If you call my serious date ‘a family gathering,’ then no, I haven’t forgotten,» came the dry reply, with a clear insinuation that the name sounded too mundane.
«I wanted to confirm what you’d like to see on the table?» Lena continued, deciding to ignore the barb.
«Preferably something baked, not burnt, and with an appetizing consistency,» Anna Mikhaylovna replied sarcastically.
«I’ll do my best to accommodate all your wishes,» Lena answered, keeping her composure.
«I don’t care what’s on the table. Prepare a couple of salads—Lyosha loves ‘Stolichny’ and the one with salmon. For the hot dish, something simple, and I’ll bring a cake from the bakery.»
But Lena knew very well that the mother-in-law didn’t really care. Anna Mikhaylovna was notorious for her love of criticism, and it was clear that she intended to use this celebration as an excuse to humiliate her daughter-in-law once again. The family had enough money to celebrate at a restaurant, yet the mother-in-law preferred to hold the celebration at home so she could «avoid all the fuss and simply relax.»
This time Lena decided to prepare especially thoroughly. She planned the menu in advance and even asked her husband to help her choose the best dishes.
«Lyosha, sit at the table!» she shouted as soon as he entered the apartment after work.
«Is it okay if I don’t even wash my hands?» he asked in surprise, smiling.
«No, you’ll wash them here,» she said, pointing to the sink. «Open your mouth!» she commanded, handing him a spoonful of salad.
«What is this?» he asked as he accepted the offering.
«Several variations of your favorite salads: three types of Stolichny and three with salmon. Choose the one you like best. And if your esteemed mother makes even one remark, you must stand by me and say that it was your idea to insist on this recipe!»
«You’re so clever!» her husband laughed. «Alright, deal. For such a generous tasting, I’m ready for anything.»
On the eve of the celebration, Lena meticulously prepared everything for the festivity. She ironed shirts for her husband and son, brought out a new tablecloth, and even bought a bouquet of flowers to create a festive atmosphere.
«Dima, don’t slurp at the table!» she reminded her son. «Lyosha, be ready to steer the conversation from heated topics to neutral ones.»
«Don’t get so nervous,» her husband reassured her. «Even if she doesn’t like something, what do we care?»
«No, I want everything to be perfect,» Lena retorted. «And if that witch finds something to nitpick, let it be clear to everyone that it’s just her malice and envy. Let her be ashamed.»
On the day of the celebration, besides Anna Mikhaylovna, other guests arrived: sister-in-law Vika, who was constantly glued to her phone; their uncle Vitaly, known for his fondness for a good drink; and that very Aunt Shura, with whom the mother-in-law had temporarily reconciled for the sake of gifts.
«Oh, what beautiful flowers!» Aunt Shura exclaimed in admiration. «I just adore fresh flowers at home.»
«Thank you, I love them too,» Lena smiled.
«So, there was enough money for a bouquet for everyone, but not for the mother?» Anna Mikhaylovna muttered under her breath.
«Nonsense, there’s one for you as well!» Lena carried a large bouquet from the next room and handed it to the mother-in-law. «Happy birthday!»
Anna Mikhaylovna did not at all expect such a turn of events and, slightly abashed, managed a brief «thank you» toward her daughter-in-law. Lena, seemingly unaware of her hesitation, continued to direct the table arrangements.
«Lyosha, Dima, help me place the salads,» she addressed her husband and son, businesslike as she surveyed the table.
Lyosha promptly brought a large glass bowl filled with the classic Stolichny salad, while Dima carefully placed the dish with the layered fish variant. Arranging the appetizers on the table turned out to be no simple task: there were already vegetable platters, fruit plates, several kinds of meat appetizers, and cheese boards. Lena did her best to consider each guest’s preferences so that no one would feel left out.
«Oh, don’t put that on me!» Anna Mikhaylovna grimaced, pointing at the bowl of Stolichny salad.
«Why? You asked for it yourself,» Lena replied calmly, clearly not intending to back down.
«Is this really Stolichny?» the mother-in-law eyed the contents skeptically. «It looks rather odd.»
Meanwhile, Uncle Vitaly, who had long been impatiently twirling his glass in his hand, finally couldn’t hold back any longer:
«Enough with the nitpicking! Let’s drink and have some appetizers already.» He glanced at a fogged-up bottle that seemed to be calling his name.
«Exactly!» Aunt Shura cheerfully agreed, raising her glass. «To you, dear birthday lady!»
Anna Mikhaylovna nodded and began cautiously prodding the salad with her fork, as if testing its reaction.
«And what meat did you use? Chicken?» the mother-in-law asked, looking up at Lena.
«No, beef,» she replied imperturbably.
«I prefer it with chicken,» Anna Mikhaylovna declared, theatrically sighing as she set her fork aside.
«Your son loves it with beef,» Lena countered, and Lyosha, keeping his earlier promise, immediately supported his wife:
«Yes, Mom, I chose it with beef.»
Anna Mikhaylovna picked up her fork once more and, with noticeable effort, shoved a small piece of salad into her mouth. All the guests fell silent, waiting for her verdict. Critiquing others’ food was always the mother-in-law’s favorite pastime, and now no one knew what she would say.
«The meat is tough, like rubber, and the cucumbers are so slippery…» she drawled after a long pause. «Replace my plate; I’ll have something else.»
«Did you like the salad?» Lena asked Uncle Vitaly, who nearly jumped out of his seat in surprise when he realized the question was directed at him.
«Yes, it’s very tasty!» he blurted, quickly eyeing his now-empty plate. «Especially the little cucumbers, you can tell they’re homemade.»
«I liked it very much too,» Aunt Shura added. «The beef is tender; not a single tough piece!»
«Vika, could you be distracted for a moment? Please, try the salad,» Lena requested of her sister-in-law, her tone calm yet with a hint of insistence.
Vika looked up from her smartphone in surprise and glanced at her daughter-in-law.
«Okay, thank you,» she mumbled, setting her phone aside.
She took a bit of salad on her fork and tasted it. After chewing, a genuine smile lit up her face.
«You know, it’s very tasty! I used to only eat it with chicken—my mom always cooked that way. Mom, maybe we should try it with beef sometimes?» she suggested to Anna Mikhaylovna.
«Even if I wanted to, I still couldn’t,» the mother-in-law waved her hand dismissively. «I’m used to cooking with quality ingredients and doing it right. And that fish salad is just ridiculous. It’s meant for pigs, not people.»
«But you haven’t even tried it,» Lena began to lose her patience, though she tried to keep her tone even.
«Why should I try it if it even looks disgusting?» Anna Mikhaylovna wrinkled her nose in disgust. «Look, it’s already releasing all its juice. You should have drained the liquid from the fish. Honestly, it’s as if you cooked for pigs…»
With those words, she pushed the plate of salad away from her and reached for the sausage. But Lena beat her to it, taking the plate right from under her fork.
«If you don’t like my food, you can leave my house. This is not a restaurant,» Lena stated firmly, her irritation no longer hidden.
Anna Mikhaylovna froze, fork suspended in mid-air, unable to believe her ears. She could not imagine that her daughter-in-law would dare not only contradict her, but also kick her out of the house on her own birthday.
«Yes, you heard correctly,» Lena confirmed, noticing her bewilderment. «I see that everyone here enjoys the food. But your constant criticism of my dishes has become unbearable. It would be better for you to leave this table, and also the house where it’s so poorly set.»
Anna Mikhaylovna looked at her son, expecting his support. But Lena met her gaze:
«Lyosha isn’t obligated to defend you. If you don’t respect your own son’s taste, why should he take your side?»
It was clear that Anna Mikhaylovna was taken aback. For a moment, Lena even felt a twinge of pity for her, but she quickly regained her composure and repeated:
«Anna Mikhaylovna, leave.»
«Ani, you’re always dissatisfied with everything!» Aunt Shura interjected. «Everyone loves my fried potatoes, and yet you keep calling them ‘burnt, burnt.’ What’s the matter, huh?» she challenged, looking at Anna Mikhaylovna defiantly.
«Go to hell, all of you…» was all she could muster before turning and heading for the exit. But after a few steps, she stopped, returned, retrieved her bouquet from the vase, and proudly walked into the hallway.
«At least she didn’t skimp on the flowers. That’s something,» remarked Uncle Vitaly, raising his glass.
After that incident, Anna Mikhaylovna never visited Lena again. She only called Lyosha to inquire about her son and grandson, but never once mentioned the daughter-in-law’s name. Yet Lena was not upset by this at all—in fact, quite the opposite.
To Lena’s surprise, her relatives began treating her with even more respect. Even Vika, during family gatherings, now set aside her smartphone and asked if she could help in the kitchen. All subsequent gatherings were held at Lena and Lyosha’s home, but the mother-in-law continued to ignore them, nursing her grudge not only against her daughter-in-law, but also against Aunt Shura and her own daughter, whom she felt had betrayed her in front of everyone.
«Nothing lasts forever; she’ll cool off eventually,» Uncle Vitaly reassured everyone, though he never specified when exactly that would happen.
