**Diary Entry 12th November**
“Hello, Mum,” Emily said timidly, stepping over the threshold of her in-laws house. “I hope Im not interrupting anything?”
“Oh, goodness, Emily dear!” Margaret beamed. “Im so pleased youve come. Are you hungry?”
“Are you?” Emily asked in return.
“A little,” Margaret chuckled. “If you dont mind, lets have lunch together.”
“Alright,” Emily nodded. “But only if we eat what Ive brought. Is that all right?”
“What?” Margaret froze.
“Please dont be surprised, but I brought a jar of my beef stew,” Emily explained.
“What on earth, Emily?” Margarets eyebrows shot up. “Do you think Ive nothing to feed you?”
“No, no, you misunderstand. Let me explain,” Emily fussed, pulling out a litre jar filled with rich, steaming stew. “I really need you to try this and tell me whats missing.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Emily sighed, “your James keeps telling me your stew is better than mine.”
“James says that?” Margaret frowned sceptically.
“Yes. Ive tried making his favourite at least ten times, but hes never happy. He insists yours is tastier. I just want to know what Im doing wrong.”
“But darling, why bother?” Margaret pressed.
“Well I want to please him,” Emily said, her voice tinged with sadness.
“Good heavens,” Margaret gave a wry smile. “Wouldnt it be easier to just have a row with him?”
“A row?” Emily blinked.
“Yes! A proper shouting match. Tell him if he dares say that again, youll stop cooking for him altogether!”
“You cant be serious!” Emily gasped. “What if he gets upset? Besides he compliments everything else I make. Its just the stew he doesnt like.”
“That little swine,” Margaret muttered.
“Why would you call him that? Hes your son!” Emily protested.
“Because hes acting like a spoiled brat!” Margaret huffed. “He gets it from his fathermy husband. He does the same thing now and then at dinner, just to wind me up.”
“What does he do?”
“Claims his mothers cooking is better. But he only says it in jestto tease me. Maybe James is joking badly too?”
“No, hes serious. Please, Margaret, just try my stew. I beg you. Whats wrong with it?”
“Oh, for heavens sake,” Margaret sighed. “Fine, come to the kitchen.”
Five minutes later, Margaret took her first spoonful.
“Bloody delicious!” she exclaimed. “Better than mine!”
“Youre just saying that to make me feel better, arent you?” Emily eyed her doubtfully.
“No, truly! Its brilliant!”
“Even socould you teach me your way?”
“Emily, dont!” Margaret laughed. “You cook better than I do. Here, try mineI made it yesterday.”
After a few bites, Emily nodded politely. “Its nice.”
“Exactly. Just nice. Yours is outstanding. James is being ridiculous.”
“No” Emily hesitated. “Maybe yours is just what hes used to. Thats why he prefers it.”
“Is that so?” Margaret smirked. “Then take a jar of mine home. Feed it to him tonight and say we made it together. Lets see what our stew connoisseur really thinks.”
That evening, James walked in and grinned. “Emily, did you really visit Mum today?”
“Howd you know?”
“She rang me. Said she taught you her stew recipe and you brought some home.”
“I did,” Emily nodded.
“Brilliant!” James washed up eagerly. But after one spoonful, his face twisted.
“Did Mum really make this?”
“Of course,” Emily said innocently.
“And you ate it too?”
“Yes,” she shrugged. “I liked it. Ill cook it this way from now on.”
“Emily, dont!” James blurted.
“Why not?”
“Justkeep making it your way.”
“But why?”
“Because yours” he pushed the bowl away, “is actually nicer. Honestly, Im not even hungry. Lets just have tea and sandwiches.”
Baffled, Emily waited until he left, then snatched a spoonful from his bowland nearly gagged.
She grabbed her phone and dialled Margaret.
“Margaret,” she whispered, “I dont understand. I just tried your stewits awful!”
“I know,” Margaret said calmly. “Probably inedible.”
“But why? It was fine earlier!”
“I added soured cream. Did he try it?”
“Yes”
“And?”
“Not exactly a fan.”
“Not a fan?” Margaret cackled. “Well, at least his taste buds work. And if he ever criticises your cooking againIll show him Mums stew properly!”
**Lesson learned:** Sometimes, a little mischief is all it takes to humble a criticespecially when theyve been taking you for granted.
