Can you cook with your spouse?
Cooking is supposed to be fun, right? And cooking with your husband or wife is even more fun, right?
Well, with us, that wasn't exactly the case. I remember when we first got together and soon after, moved in with each other, arguments in the kitchen erupted more than once. Fortunately, these quarrels never escalated to the point of us pointing the onion-laden knives we were holding at each other. However, it often ended with one of us, offended, retreating to the living room amidst a lot of noise and fury.
Why was it important to learn to cook together? For one thing, dining together is very important to us. We both love to eat delicious meals with gusto. As Julia Child famously said in Julie Powell's novel, 'we're good at it too!' Therefore, shared meals became a significant part of our experiences together. Since dining out every day isn't practical, we felt that cooking together could also be a joyful activity.
Well, it certainly wasn't joyful in the beginning! It felt more like we had voluntarily entered a cage for a fight. We could argue about anything and everything: the size of the onion cubes, the proper amount of garlic, achieving the al dente texture of pasta, the right amount of salt or chili, and even which cutting board to use for each ingredient... like I said literally, everything.
Before we found each other, both of us had been living alone for a while and had developed certain habits. Life hadn't been easy for either of us, and in many situations, we had only ourselves to rely on. This self-reliance led us to trust in our individual solutions. Our mutual stubbornness – as unyielding as a mule – did not make cooking together any easier. So, in our first year, it was more common for us to end up quarreling in the kitchen than successfully preparing a meal without an argument.
In the initial phase, each of us wanted to dictate how things should be done. We criticized each other, leading to offense and ultimately, one of us would storm out of the kitchen. The one who remained would finish cooking and slam the meal on the table, resulting in a meal eaten in silence and a bad mood.
At this stage, our performance could have been rated as follows:
Joy of Cooking: 0/5
Lunch Quality: 4/5 (as the one who stayed would more or less properly finish the meal)
Lunch Atmosphere: 1/5 (the person who left the kitchen usually thanked the other at the end)
Overall Rating: 2/5
This phase was eventually followed by a second phase, which didn't show much improvement in terms of results. Both of us, fearful of arguing, were overly cautious, constantly asking the other for guidance. This was a classic case of 'too many cooks spoil the broth', with neither of us making real progress. The end result was often an unremarkable mishmash of food. Although we mostly avoided arguments, the mood remained gloomy, especially after a mediocre lunch.
The outcome of this phase wasn’t much better than the first:
Joy of Cooking: 2/5 (at least there were no arguments)
Lunch Quality: 2/5 (ultimately, neither Nam's recipe nor mine turned out well)
Lunch Atmosphere: 3/5 (we didn’t sulk, but the poor quality of the food was disappointing)
Overall Rating: 2/5
After realizing that we still didn't enjoy cooking together, and especially didn't like eating the meals we prepared (this became apparent as leftovers often fermented in the fridge, with both of us avoiding them using transparent excuses), we decided it was time for a change. Enjoying delicious meals together was so important to us that we were willing to compromise. I accepted what the diced onions should look like, and Nam agreed that not everything needed chili. I agreed to put everything away immediately after using it, and Nam accepted my less precise vegetable cutting. To me, if something is supposed to be the size of a fingernail, it can vary in size. After all, the nail on a person's thumb is different in size from that on the little finger, right?
In short, we strived to cooperate more effectively and accept that there are different solutions than what we were accustomed to. We realized the model of two head chefs and no line cooks was unworkable, much like restaurant kitchens aren't structured that way. So, we agreed that whoever brought the specific recipe or food idea would be the chef, and the other would play the role of the line cook. Surprisingly, this approach worked wonders. The conflicts subsided, and we enjoyed more delicious meals than ever before.
In this phase, we achieved a markedly different result:
Joy of Cooking: 5/5
Lunch Quality: 6/5 (going really well :))
Lunch Atmosphere: 5/5 (no arguing, and the food is delicious!)
Overall Rating: 5/5!
This journey from constant sulking and arguing to efficient, enjoyable teamwork taught us a lot. It provided a blueprint for resolving conflicts in our marriage later on. It also demonstrated our commitment to each other, as we were both willing to experiment until we found solutions to problematic situations.
We often tell those who envy our relationship that it wasn't easy to reach this harmony. It took many years and often fierce arguments to get to this point. Just like in the kitchen at the beginning, we didn't initially trust that the other's solutions in other areas of life would be effective, or that their way of cooking would result in a delicious meal. It took years of shared experiences, both good and bad, to develop this trust. These experiences allowed us to analyze when we did things right or wrong. As a result, we developed not only trust in each other but also the willingness to relinquish control, even when the outcome would significantly affect us. This isn't easy in a world where people often enter relationships defensively, armored, rather than being truly open.
In addition to trust, accepting that we are not always the leaders wasn't easy. In our previous lives and jobs, we both tended to take on leading roles rather than following. However, this dynamic is not feasible in a long-term, successful relationship. So, we had to learn to occasionally take off the chef's hat and follow the other's lead. Over the years, it has become clear which areas Nam excels in and which ones I do. Just as we do in the kitchen, we usually decide who takes the lead in other areas of life, always consulting with each other. This approach has proven to be much more effective.
We also had to understand that both in the kitchen and in life, tension often escalates, leading to irritability. In such moments, clashes were just a few tense minutes away. We needed to know each other well enough to recognize that the issue wasn't with us personally, but with the situation at hand. No matter how grumpy or irritable either of us became, it was crucial to put aside our egos and help resolve the matter.
Ultimately, we learned the importance of taking responsibility as a team for our outcomes. Whether the soup turned out delicious or disastrous, or whether we successfully navigated a difficult situation in our lives, we did it together and shared the consequences. Success was easy to celebrate, but in instances of failure – which happened quite often – we avoided the initial tendency to blame each other, as we did in our early days in the kitchen. Instead, we would join hands and strategize ways to improve. Sometimes, this simply meant getting dressed up and going out to eat somewhere. :)
From my experience, deepening a relationship takes significantly more time than most people anticipate. It's not just about the initial phase of immersing ourselves in each other. It's about those years spent riding the roller coaster of life's ups and downs, during which we develop trust, mutual respect, and a deeper understanding of each other and ourselves. It's a time to acknowledge our strengths, recognize our weaknesses, correct our mistakes, and learn to reconcile with ourselves and with each other. These years and experiences hold immense value, often more than we initially realize.
So, this brings us to one final question: Can you cook with your spouse?
– Eszter
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