Hey, Heavy G --
No offense taken with your comment on my story. Here's the scoop on the fried chicken fiasco --
MIL was a very sweet person whom I adored. She passed away Jan 2011 at age 98. Much as I loved Mom, she was a mediocre cook on her best days.
For example, her idea of cooking chicken was to coat the raw, unboned pieces in Bisquick, then boil them in oil for at least 1- 2 hours. She also made "goulash" that was a full pound (dry weight) elbow mac cooked, then mixed with about a half pound of unseasoned hamburger meat and a half can of tomato soup. The result was barely pink with tiny brown, flavorless bits thinly scattered throughout and no flavor since she didn't even add salt to the pasta water. Her idea of turkey stuffing was a slice of bread, half a raw carrot and a quarter of an onion laid in the cavity of the turkey, which of course was roasted for at least 6 hours (thank goodness for the injected broth in most commercial turkeys!).
Bless her heart, she simply had no real interest in the kitchen and less skill IMO. Of course DH thought (as do most folks) that his mother's cooking was the best in the whole world.
I, on the other hand, was basically "raised in the kitchen" by a highly accomplished cook was was also very open to a wide variety of cuisines. (My mom passed away Aug 2011). One of Mama's favorite sayings in the face of a picky eater was, "You just haven't had ____ fixed the way you like it yet" and the next time she'd try a different recipe. As a result, my family expected well prepared, flavorful meals when they arrived at DH and my house -- and that's exactly what they got.
DH insulted not only me, but my family, when he complained about that particular meal. There were some very shocked faces at the table at the time, I can tell you.
Was I bitchy to make him responsible for his own meals? Probably, but the "chicken episode" was symptomatic of quite a course of behavior early in the marriage to which I felt I had to put a quick stop. DH needed to know where I drew the line (and I needed to know the same for him.)
BTW -- the ironing thing was meant to be a joke. In point of fact, DH is an extraordinarily helpful mate around the house whom I praise constantly to his face and to my acquaintances. He is one of the most intelligent folks I've met (4 degrees to my 3) and an absolute whiz financially. We have been married 30 years and seem to have worked out most of the bugs, but there's always something new around the corner, right?
Anyway, no offense taken. Just wanted to set the record straight.
