The wife prepares a simple meal, but her husband insists on homemade pies and stuffed cabbage: “You’re on maternity leave, you’ve got all the time in the world!”

In the early years of our marriage, my wife and I lived quite normally together. She agreed with everythingwe were both focused and driven. We worked hard and saved up for the deposit on a mortgage. Food wasnt an issue. I ate whatever she prepared, never complained. She bought a slow cooker, made quick and basic mealsporridge, stew, soup. I never found fault. Every now and then, though, Id mention, fancifully, that I fancied something special.

What sort of special? shed ask. Pancakes, for instance, filled with minced beef, or maybe a classic pie, or perhaps a proper roast. Ive got a soft spot for dishes that take a bit more effortones that require simmering, chilling, kneading dough, cooking batches, slicing finelya whole day spent pottering around the kitchen. And I cant stand buying ready-made mealsnothing compares to home-cooked food.

When did you start having these cravings? she wondered.

It all began roughly two years after she started maternity leave. Truthfully, she doesnt enjoy cooking, but she always does it. She keeps food on the table, given Im working full days at the office, earning the pounds to keep us afloat. Its never happened that I come home to an empty kitchen. There’s always a warm meal waiting, and its more than just pasta and sausages. She makes things like potatoes with roast beef, chicken casserole, soup, cottage pie, salads. Still, she insists its quite basic, yet I voiced my discontent. Youre at home all daysurely you have time to make fresh pies, homemade dumplings, maybe even stuffed cabbage rolls?

But I look after our daughter! she protests. Men, as a rule, forget that maternity leave involves childcare, not endless free time.

Our daughter is a delightcalm and easygoing, a golden child. You can sit her in the kitchen next to mum, give her a bit of dough, and shell play for ages. Mother and daughter sing songs, recite rhymes. Our child never really interrupts, but my wife simply doesnt see the point in spending hours on dishes she wont eat herself. Shes dieting, eats less meat, avoids bread. Why spend time hand-making dumplings just for me? Isnt that a bit much?

So, life carries on quite well. I come home on time every evening, never linger after work, go to the work do only once a yearand even then, just for a bit. I help with our girl, bathe her, play with her, take her out for walks.

But lately, things have changed; I started asking for pickled vegetables or something a bit more involved. We had a proper argument last weekdidnt speak for days.

Honestly, my wife doesnt understand why its so difficult: making a bit of dough, grilling a batch of pancakes, filling them with meat? Shes offended, thinking Im accusing her of only cooking out of obligation, not because she wants to please or surprise me.

Its too much for me, she sighs. Cooking meat, then dough, then frying pancakes, then stuffing them Besides, I wont eat themI have to cook other food for myself and our child!

She reckons nowadays no one bothers making suet puddings, jellied consommés, or stuffed cabbage. Well, maybe at Christmas or once a year for a special occasion. Young couples dont fuss over festive spreads. On ordinary days, if you crave pies, you might order them from a bakery, though its not exactly cheapnot ideal if your wifes on maternity leave and youve got a mortgage. Its not something for every day.

She points to my grandmother for proofa woman who always smelled of baking and buns, worked all her life, raised plenty of children, and still cooked everything from scratch.

Thats nothing! my wife exclaims. Women from the past had less to do in the eveningsno television, no internet. They invented chores to stay busy. They washed clothes by hand and baked dumplings. If you ask me, times better spent with your kids, or walking outdoors, rather than dancing around the stove for three hours.

She recently rang her mother-in-law, who, in a patient tone, reminded her that a mans heart is won through his stomach, and theres nothing difficult about making what her son desires. Seems Id already grumbled to my mum.

I told her I dont eat stuffed cabbage, my wife said, so why should I make it? And of course, immediately I get told: Well, you know, men love that sort of thing!

So, whats right? Should a man expect a variety of hot meals every day the moment theres fresh food in the house? Or is it cheeky to ask for a bit more effort at homeshould a husband just eat whatever is served, and if he fancies a sausage roll, make it himself?

Or should my wife start listening to my requests?

Thinking it over, I realise compromise matters more than tradition. Instead of seeing meals as proof of affection, I should appreciate her efforts and not expect her to slave away for hours. A bit of understanding goes far further than a plate of fancy food.