It’s Not You. It’s Your Cooking
What happens when you and your partner refuse to eat the same foods?
Welcome to Best Food Blog, a writer-run publication about eating by journalists Ali Francis, Anikah Shaokat, Anna Hezel, and Antara Sinha. You can check out everything we’ve published so far here. We’ll be back on Monday with our weekly food wins (and fails), and a curated list of must-reads.
When my now-husband and I moved in together during the pandemic, I felt confident in the kitchen. Joshie worked more than me, so I handled our dinners. Who cared that I’d taken on all the labor? I loved watching him devour my herb-laced meatballs with sheet pan veggies, fall-apart Instant Pot chicken tucked into quesadillas, and rich bolognese dripping over fat pappardelle. Being a solid cook is an embarrassingly large part of my self-image, and it felt good to be seen in all of my glorious competence.
Then, one Thanksgiving, I stopped eating meat basically overnight. I’d been reporting on the horrors of the US poultry system for Bon Appétit, and the giant turkey carcass glistening centerstage was the final straw. Joshie was fully supportive of my highly evolved ethics. But the lentil stews, bean bakes, and vegetarian shepherd’s pies? Not so much. I tried to make meals we’d both love, compromising my own tastes, but I was losing steam on the domestic goddess front. Night after night, I’d slide his barely touched dinners into the trash, silently blaming his dwindling appetite on work stress.
