‘I don’t mind cooking, I do it most Saturdays to give the wife a break.’ I watched on, as a stranger said this to my husband at a Christmas Party. ‘Always the same’, he continued, ‘burgers on the bbq, chips in the oven. Earns me brownie points.’ I was about to join them but paused to overhear the rest. ‘I cook every day’, my husband responded with confidence and pride. ‘You’re kidding. Mate, you’ve picked the short straw’, the man laughed at him. My husband was unperturbed. He excused himself and turned to find that I was right behind him. We made our way to the opposite end of the room to get away from this man. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ I demanded. I was angry on his behalf, it was rude, and little did the man know – my husband’s cooking saved our marriage.
For 13 years, as our kids grew up, I was the one cooking every day – a job I cherished. I intentionally call it a job as that’s what it was, unpaid and done out of love, but still work. When I was doing it, for our two sons, no one suggested that I may have pulled the short straw, even though I had given up a legal career to be at home, for them. But five years ago, everything changed and the dynamics of our marriage became a topic everyone had an opinion on. My husband and I had up to that point, followed a traditional family structure – he went out to work and earnt money, while I stayed at home, cooked, cleaned and raised the kids. It suited us, and we worked well as a team. We had clearly defined roles and a common goal – to build and grow our close knit and loving family.
Then, when our boys were 11 and 13 – my husband gave up his high-powered job in the City. He was in his 50’s and told me he craved a change of lifestyle and an opportunity to embark on a second career. He’d been in finance for thirty years and felt it was time to explore a new direction. I supported him and knew that it would be of enormous benefit for our boys to have their father around a lot more. However, I was unprepared for the impact this would have on our relationship. Initially, we struggled. We made the mistake of never discussing who’d be responsible for what and the uncertainty was disorientating. We used to be good at carving time out for each other – when he worked, he would call me daily at lunchtime to check in and I loved that tender gesture. But now that we were both at home, we didn’t know how to be together so much. So we ended up avoiding each other. If I walked into a room, he immediately walked out. The tenderness was gone. We drifted and very rapidly felt like strangers.
We both shied away from having tricky conversations – the first blip in our marriage. I seemed to always pick the wrong time to talk and what little he said came across as dismissive and patronising. We tried marriage counselling – my idea and he agreed, which I took as a positive sign. It didn’t work for us – we’re both quite private and felt so exposed, plus having a stranger pile on pressure to talk, made us both clam up. Simultaneously, almost by accident, in 2021, I launched a new career as a writer. It had been my big dream as a child, but I filed it back in the recesses of my mind. With hindsight I think, I was inspired by what my husband did.
I registered for an online creative writing course that led to me sending an article I had written to an editor of a newly formed digital magazine and she published it. I was immediately hooked and wanted to write all day every day. It wasn’t pre-planned: my husband didn’t give up his career so that I could start on mine. But with this new career, finding time to cook became tricky. Instead of complaining about why dinner wasn’t ready, my husband stepped in to help. It was a turning point. In the kitchen, I saw a whole new side to him. ‘What would you like for dinner?’ became the first question he greeted us with in the morning, often whilst frying onions to make a head start. He came alive. He’d taken cookery lessons every now and then for fun but this was different. He was cooking for his family and it was a transformation. Sundays became our favourite day – he would make a roast with all the trimmings. He started out by buying a book on the best way to roast potatoes and studied it for a week. The three of us would sit around the dinner table playing card games whilst he cooked up a storm next to us in the kitchen.
Soon, our family WhatsApp group was full of chat about meals and shopping requests, which he happily handled. I was so sure that the novelty would wear off, but he proved me wrong. His enthusiasm never waned. The penny dropped for both of us; his love language, like mine, was food. So when I heard this man laugh at my husband, I was angry. Cooking for your family is my husband’s act of love and care, and it should be respected – no matter who does it. Letting go of the kitchen hasn’t been easy for me – I practically have to pre-book a slot when I want to cook a meal and when I do, he looks forlorn while stepping away. We might make a good team in life but in the kitchen, we need to fly solo. In the three years since he’s been in charge in the kitchen, he’s been honing his skills. He explores unfamiliar recipes, tries out new cooking techniques and even seeks our feedback on the dishes he experiments with. I understand now that he had difficulty putting tenderness into words, and so he put it in our meals. My husband has realised the full value of cooking and this made me fall in love with him all over again.
