My Relatives Started Complaining about My Wifes Meals at Our Monthly Family Dinners, So We Decided to Secretly Test Them
My wife, Megan, poured her heart into our family’s monthly dinners, but all she received in return were hurtful, dismissive comments from my relatives. After witnessing her break down in tears one too many times, I decided to set up a hidden test to uncover the real reason behind their constant criticism. What I discovered shattered me.
Our family has long upheld a tradition of monthly dinners—a custom that started when my dad was a child. My grandmother would bring her siblings together over home-cooked meals, a gesture that helped keep their bond strong. As Dad and his siblings grew older, they continued the tradition, inviting each other for dinner every month. I still remember how much my siblings and I looked forward to those nights, eager to see our cousins and enjoy the lively atmosphere.
These dinners weren’t just casual gatherings. My dad would go all out with the decorations, and my mom ensured we had at least three dishes to choose from. One night in particular stands out when my dad ordered pizza for all the kids, and it turned into one of the most fun evenings we ever had.
Now that my siblings and I are grown, we’ve continued the tradition. A few months ago, my older sister Angela hosted dinner and made an amazing chicken pie that even Megan couldn’t stop praising. Since we took turns hosting, I had invited my siblings and their families over to our home many times. We usually had around 13 or 14 people, including my aunt Martha, who has always been close to us.
Megan was thrilled to be part of this tradition from the very beginning, even before we were married. Initially, I took charge of the cooking, but after a while, she took over, finding joy in the process. “I find cooking therapeutic,” she would often tell me. That’s just the kind of person Megan is—always eager to help and contribute.
But everything changed the moment we revealed that Megan had prepared the meal. My sister Angela immediately complained, calling the food bland, while my brother Dan muttered about how dry the chicken was. Even my mom chimed in with criticism, suggesting adjustments to the seasoning. Watching Megan’s face fall broke my heart. She had poured so much effort into that meal, only to be met with casual cruelty.
Later that night, I found Megan in our bedroom, crying. She was devastated and told me she didn’t want to cook for my family again. I tried to comfort her, praising her cooking, but the damage had been done. Still, I convinced her to give it one last shot, hoping the next time would be different.
For the following dinner, Megan prepared dishes she knew my family liked—roasted chicken for my mom and pasta for Angela. Yet again, their remarks were harsh and dismissive, even though the food was fantastic. I couldn’t understand why they were being so cruel, until I overheard my parents making some unkind remarks about Megan. That’s when I realized there was more to their criticism than just the food.
Determined to uncover the truth, I suggested a test. At the next dinner, we would tell my family that I had cooked, even though Megan would prepare the same dishes they had criticized before. Megan was hesitant at first, not wanting to be humiliated again, but she agreed.
When the night arrived, I casually mentioned that I had prepared dinner, using my mom’s recipe for the roasted chicken. To my shock, my family raved about the meal. Angela declared it the best pasta she’d ever tasted, and my mom couldn’t stop praising the roasted chicken. It was clear—they had no issue with the food; it was all about who had cooked it.
When I revealed the truth—that Megan had prepared everything—the room went silent. My family tried to backtrack, but the damage was done. It became painfully clear that they were never going to accept Megan, no matter how hard she tried.
That night, I made a decision. We were done with the monthly dinners. I refused to let Megan endure their disrespect any longer. Family traditions mean nothing if they come at the expense of someone you love. Despite my family’s attempts to convince me otherwise, I knew I had to stand by Megan. She deserved better than the petty criticism they had thrown her way.
Do you think I made the right choice?