In this week's Modern Love column in the New York Times, Suzanne Finnamore writes about how she and her husband fell in love - and out of love - over the course of many sumptuous homemade meals. She seduces him by delivering tubs of her cabbage and rice soup with Gruyere croutons to his office. Even when she didn't have time to cook, would pass off fancy takeout as her own creations. He debones chickens for her, and brings her coffee and pastries in bed. Love. Sigh.
But before too long they're eating hurried family dinners, using bottle salad dressing (oh horrors!) and pre-cut chicken parts. By the end they're each eating Thai takeout alone over the computer and fighting over who gets to go to the store for more butter and who has to stay home with the baby. He whines about the ratio of vermouth to vodka in the martinis she still fixes for him. She stops buying his favorite cheese. Divorce. The End.
Ignoring the rather desperate-seeming act of bringing a new boyfriend soup at work, and the bald fakery of pretending you made the deli takeout, it's kind of a cute article. Kind of. I'm not quite sure if the author is trying to show that bad food helped end the relationship (surely even the most gourmet of busy new parents resort to quick frozen chicken dinners) or that bad food was simply a sign that neither of them cared anymore.
Have you ever gone over the top trying to seduce someone with your culinary skills? What kind of dishes did you make? Did you regret not being able to keep up the high level cookery after your relationship settled into a routine? Or do you and your significant other still enjoy osso bucco and chocolate-hazelnut tarts every Saturday night?
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