I listen to pop radio.
I drink out of season wine.
I wear clothes that don't match (okay, I actually do this a lot).
Yesterday, I made dinner from a recipe I got from Matt's mother.
I generally have a strict policy with regards to recipes from my significant others' parents, and it goes something like this:
NO.I have my reasons. First, no matter how exactly you follow the directions, it's never going to taste the same, or as good. The not-the-same factor multiplies exponentially with the parent in question's tendency to "just throw some things together" in unquantifiable amounts or to use the low-fat version of things (I refuse on principle, and it usually doesn't even occur to me that that's what was used originally until after my recreation has been pronounced "richer or something"), particularly if the recipe involves a lot of dairy products. This inevitably leads to fear of culinary inadequacy or resentment (especially of the low-fat icky dairy version "tastes better").
My second and third reasons are that I am a fairly picky eater, despite my culinary adventurousness, and therefore will not make a number of recipes on principle. I tend to be sort of self-conscious about this, so it's a lot easier on me to say no to making mom's recipes than it is for me to admit that I refuse to eat meatloaf, peas, or carrots. Then there's the matter of food I find repugnant for other reasons. Case in point: the hamburger soup my most recent ex suggested I make, which featured undrained ground beef, canned tomatoes in water, a few pasta shells, and a whole block of Velveeta. "You can add ketchup to make it thicker." I'm pretty sure that counts as an abomination to god and man, and I don't even believe in god.
Much like there's no nice way to ask someone if they're high, there's no way to inform a dude that his mother's cooking skills are obviously lacking without landing yourself in some kind of trouble, either immediately (he gets mad because you think fake cheeze steeped in beef grease and tomato water is the most revolting soup base ever) or on down the line (when he decides to apprise his mother of your opinions concerning her cooking abilities). Unwise.
Anyway. I made a recipe from Matt's mom. It had noodles, cheese, cream of mushroom soup, morningstar patties, onions, and breadcrumbs. He said he liked it. I said that I hated cream of mushroom soup. And that was that.