**A Spoonful of Trouble**
What? You made dumplings?.. Better serve them with activated charcoal. At least we wont poison ourselves too badly, scoffed her mother-in-law, Margaret, with a dismissive sniff.
Oh, come off it, Maggie. Give it a rest. Lets at least try them first. Maybe the girl actually got it right this time, defended Alexander, Julias father-in-law.
The girl was well into her forties. She wordlessly set out plates and dished up portions. Julia had grown used to Margarets jabsher tone playful but laced with sarcasm, even resentment. As if someone had dared challenge her title as the reigning queen of dumplings in the family.
Right. And Ill be the one nursing you back to health, Margaret grumbled. Youd be better off eating at home instead of here.
She eyed her plate like an enemy at the gate, lazily poking at the food with her fork, lips curled in distaste.
Theyre overcooked, for starters. Dough like paste. And you shouldve added turmeric for colour, she went on, relentless.
Alexander, however, pulled his plate closer with enthusiasm.
Oh, give it a rest, will you? Were eating them, not framing them! he declared, mouth half-full. Blimey, its been ages since Ive had dumplings this good. Brilliant!
Julia offered a tight smile at the praise. But Margarets face twisted suddenly.
Really? Julia burns toast half the time, and now suddenly shes a chef? she sneered. Alex, pity compliments are in poor taste.
I mean it! Try one yourself. The broths practically singing!
Margaret speared a dumpling, her expression sour as if shed been handed a cockroach. After a suspicious inspection, she finally took a bite. Chewed slowly. Frowned.
The mince shouldve been half chicken. More economical. Too much salt. And the doughs blandmustve used water. The ones from the corner shop are better.
Honestly, Maggie, who cares whats in it? Its tasty, thats what matters. Let the younguns mind their own wallets, Alexander countered.
No, its *not* tasty! Margaret dug in. Youve just forgotten what proper dumplings taste like. This is slop!
Julia watched the bickering, her own dinner forgotten. She hadnt expected applause, but this?
The in-laws squabbled for another five minutes before Alexander threw up his hands, deciding it wasnt worth the headache. Then, abruptly, Margaret announced they were leaving.
Best be off. Loads to do. The washing machines on a timernearly done. If we dont hang it up straight away, itll stink, she said, leaping to her feet.
The washing machine? Alexander blinked. Are you sure you even started it? Dont recall that
Your memorys been rubbish lately. Among other things, Margaret hissed on her way out.
Alexander had no choice but to follow, shrugging apologetically at Julia.
Once the door shut, Julia turned to her husband, Thomas, who looked just as baffled.
Was all that really about dumplings? she whispered.
You know how she is about cooking, he sighed.
Lovely. So I was supposed to deliberately ruin them to spare your mums feelings? Julia crossed her arms.
She didnt know whether to laugh or take offence.
Margaret had staked her claim on both Thomas and Alexander long ago. Julia had fought for her husband inch by inchfirst when he stopped rushing to her midnight calls, then when they chose to spend New Years alone, then when they didnt invite her on their trip to Edinburgh.
The kitchen was Margarets last stronghold. And now Julia had trespassed.
Truth was, Julia had never cared much for cooking. Her mother hadnt taught her, and shed never bothered to learn.
Plenty of time for pots and pans later, her mum would say. Eat to live, dont live to eat.
That had been Julias motto. Ready meals, pasta, simple saladsgood enough. If she had time, maybe steamed chicken breast with veg. A cottage cheese bake was her crowning achievement.
Shed never thought anything was wronguntil Thomas started nagging. Before the wedding, hed had no complaints. After?
Ready meals again? Could murder a proper Kiev cutlet right now the buttery, herby kind hed muse as Julia set down his plate.
The root of it? His mother *adored* cooking. Hours at the stove, feasts fit for kings. Julia hadnt signed up for that. So she retrained him.
Right. Weve got borscht without the fried bits. Want it fried? Either go to a caff or make it yourself. And eat quietly. Im not on payrollmight just spoon you one.
Thomas had clammed up after that. Margaret hadnt.
Bless her, she cant even do porridge rightjust those instant packets, shed titter to relatives.
Julia had stopped attending family gatherings where she could. But cutting ties completely wasnt an option. Shed learned to ignore it. Things with Thomas were fineMargarets opinions were background noise.
Except for the dumplings. Thomas *loved* homemade ones. Every time Julia boiled shop-bought, hed sigh: Wish they were like Mums.
Finally, she cracked.
Fine. Youll get your dumplings.
Shed roped her own mother into helping. Theyd laughed, swapped stories, watched a film in the background. Julia had felt triumphant. Exhausted.
The taste test was postponed until the next eveningconveniently, when the in-laws were due.
And now this. An unspoken dumpling duel.
Julia wouldve forgotten it by morning if Margaret hadnt gone silent. No calls. No texts. When Julia tried ringing, no answer.
Thomas, call your mum. I wanted to ask about the cottage, but shes not picking up. Something wrong?
Doubt it. Ill try.
He returned minutes later, grim.
Mum says she doesnt need our help anymore.
Meaning?
Exactly that. Says shell manage.
Well. Less baggage, lighter load.
Still, Julia was thrown. Margaret refusing help? Unheard of. Shed run them ragged before.
The next day, Julia caved and called Alexander. He was straightforward, no dramaeasier to talk to.
Alexander, whereve you been? We had plans for the cottage, and now Margarets saying she doesnt need us.
Ah, Julia He sighed. Maggies lost the plot. Wont speak to me. Only cooks for herself now. Said if you liked Julias cooking so much, go live with her. Can you believe it? And all I did was compliment the meal
Julia stifled a laugh. It was madness.
Im sorry Never meant for dinner to start a war. If things get dire, pop round. Ill feed you.
Youre a saint, Julia. Dont fret. Maggiell get over it. High time she learned theres room for two in this family.
After hanging up, Julia exhaled. Right. So *shed* exiled Alexander. It was sad. Absurd. A grown woman treating her stove like a throne.
But Margaret had isolated herself. No more snide remarks. Julia knew it wouldnt lastboredom would break the silence. For now, shed enjoy the peace. And ponder which dish to master nextjust to buy herself a few more days of quiet.
