This having a preference for what someone else eats sounds perverted to me. Someone who cooks for me sounds nice, if they make food I like to eat. Cooking up a bunch of stuff for me to eat while they are away feels . . . Well, sneaky.
It could be a very nice gesture. “I want you to have nice dinners, and not have to change your schedule.” Or, “You poor putz, I better fix it all up, so you don’t kill yourself, or trash my kitchen.”
Shrug.
I don’t eat what I don’t like, no matter who fixes it. I don’t make a big deal about it either. If asked, I would say, I don’t like tofu casserole. If not asked, the tofu casserole could stay in the refrigerator until it grows long green tendrils.
“Hey, honey, you gonna eat this green stuff you fixed?”
Tris
