See, I have this friend, she’s really nice and all, and we get along well. We get together often, and have a good time. Most of the time we end up having lunch, or dinner. And she always happily cooks for us, not only enjoying it, but also taking pride in her culinary creations.
And herein lays the problem. She’s a terrible cook. I mean, the meals are so atrocious that sometimes I have to make serious efforts to swallow the food. They run the entire gamut from nearly raw to completely burnt, and from what I gather she doesn’t really follow any recipes. What she does instead is mix together (in very approximate proportions) whatever she thinks the needed ingredients are for a given recipe. If there are procedures to be followed, they are most often loose adaptations. (E.g., last time when the recipe called for shredded cabbage, she dumped in a can of sauerkraut…) I won’t even begin to tell you about the looks of these concoctions.
Eating these “masterpieces” of culinary art is actually good for training one’s social skills. I’ll tell ya, consuming one of these meals without cringing and perhaps even smiling at their creator is a good Zen exercise. Now, I’ve managed to do that, but it’s not always enough: my friend also expects to be praised for her “efforts.” Her husband seems to have mastered this next step (he has the advantage of many years of “training” – I never had the nerve to ask him how he manages to do it). But me and my wife have trouble contradicting our real thoughts so blatantly. A little white lie is a little white lie, but flattering our friend for these total fiascos is where we draw the line.
So far we got away with remarks like “it’s… interesting” or incoherent mumblings when asked about our opinions, but it’s not gonna last. We tried to circumvent the problem by bringing “take-home” dinners from restaurants and fast foods to our get-togethers; or offering to take them out instead. But she doesn’t seem to take these subterfuges kindly, and keeps on offering us her home-made “goodies” because , y’know, no restaurant-made meal can compete with them.
If this keeps going on, sooner or later we’ll have to let her know the awful truth. And I’m afraid of disaster… After all, I still want to be friends with her.
First: Offer to do the cooking half the time. “It just isn’t fair for us to not reciprocate once in a while, and we’d love the chance to repay your generosity.” You haven’t lied, their offer of dinner IS generous, you get to have a meal that won’t give you heartburn, and so does her husband.
Second: “Y’know, I’ve always wanted to take a class in (French, Italian, Thai) cooking, and they’re offering one at the civic center!! I’m joining up, why don’t we do it together?” At least she’d learn the rudiments, if nothing else.
Third… bring pizza? “I was just in the mood for pizza, been craving it all day!”
Outside of that, I can’t really think of anything else, other than telling her the truth. And, I honestly can’t think of a way to tell her the truth that wouldn’t hurt her feelings.
Tried that. No go. You see, it’s not about reciprocating. She actually believes she’s a good cook. She even tries to cook when they come to our place.
Won’t work because she always has something already in mind, or the meal is prepared when we get there. And “helping” is not an option either. We are the guests, and we’re not supposed to do that. Plus I have the feeling she wants to do everything by herself in order to take full credit for it.
Oh, my. In that case, I’d say you’re stuck. Make sure you start off with “Your friendship means SO much to me, and I know I can tell you anything…” then drop the bomb. Yes, she’ll be hurt, but damn! How much punishment should your GI tract take in the name of friendship?
This thread reminds me of a comment I made at a friend’s house recently about the fact that nearly all of our friends are great cooks. I have gotten so spoiled by it that I was shocked when I actually had to eat some seriously bad cooking at a work function. I’m lucky that my friends can cook–and are pretty grown-up about criticism (should there be any).
You are not so lucky.
Here’s what I’d do if I were you:
start to develop some strong opinions about certain foods: “Gee, does that have chickpeas in it? I just can’t abide them…sorry. Trust me, you don’t want to be around me when I’ve eaten those…”
If your friend really does like to cook for compliments, then suggest some dishes you’d love her to fix for you: “Didn’t you make that one chicken dish that one time? (Note: she probably didn’t, but here’s how you get her to make it) You know, where you grilled the chicken and smothered it with sauteed mushrooms…it was really simple and delicious. I’d love to have that again sometime.”
Be honest about what her cooking does to you: “I know how you love to cook, but I gotta tell you that lately my stomach has been acting up. Most of the time food doesn’t even look good…”
Go on a diet…a really wierd one…that only allows you to eat fresh fruit and vegetables…or just water and grilled cheese sandwiches…
The best possible advice is to find some “signature” dish she can make well and crave only it. Everything else simple pales in comparison. That way you’re both happy. She gets to cook…you get to eat.
Improperly cooked food can be physically dangerous. Your politeness could literally kill you. It’s complicated, because you’ve been lying to her all along, but she deserves to know the truth.
Friendship doesn’t mean ignoring someone’s faults, it means accepting them with their faults. If there’s a problem with her cooking, and everybody but her knows it, then she deserves to know. You’re not being her friend by keeping her ignorant of her problem.
BTW, is she stupid, or just ignorant? Because this stuff has to taste bad to her too, doesn’t it? If you are sure the husband feels the same way you do, approach him to help with an intervention. It sounds like one is past due.
Back when I was living in a small, isolated college town, a bunch of people who also missed the big city started an “eating club.” Once a month a theme would be chose, usually some type of ethnic food. Whoever was hosting would put together a list of appropriate recipes or ideas for dishes and guests would all be assigned a dish or two to make and bring. Could you suggest something similar? That way, she would still have control over designing the meal, but she wouldn’t be making all of it and the chances would increase that it would include something edible. When it was your turn to host, you could steer her toward dishes she might be able to handle. Things that are supposed to be raw, for example.
I think I know your friend’s cooking teachers: an elderly couple who are friends of mine. Oh, lordie, the meals I have choked down there! “Turkey” that was actually chunks of something in a green, slimy sauce, with crunchy bits . . . Salad with unidentifiable stuff in it (dust? dog hair?) . . . Even the water was undrinkable. After two meals with them, we now go out for dinner, at my insistence: “Oh, goodness, no, I don’t want to put you to any trouble—I know the cutest little restaurant!”
“I was just in the mood for pizza, been craving it all day!”
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