A Spicy Lunch with My Suocera

Family relationships can be wonderful and tricky at the same time. Acquired family relationships? Even trickier.

When I was a teenager, my eldest brother started going out with a girl. They were very much in love and she often stayed with us at my family home.

In Italy, once a relationship becomes more serious, it’s quite common to consider that person part of the family, even if they’re not married or engaged yet. So she was my cognata (sister-in-law) and my mamma automatically became her suocera (mother-in-law).

My brother and sister-in-law often argued. She was a little possessive and he was a little too popular with the other girls in town, so whenever he hopped on his Vespa to buy cigarettes, she wondered what he was really up to.

We tried to stay out of it.

Eventually mamma had enough:

“Why do you bring your girlfriend here, only to disappear for hours and leave her with us?”

“Am I not free to see my other friends?” he replied.

“Of course you are. But it’s not fair to leave her alone here. She’s got no friends in this town.”

“Whose side are you on?” he asked defiantly.

“I’m on the right side, whatever that is,” mamma replied.

“But you’re my mamma, you should be on my side!”

“Well, I know it’s expected that mothers always side with their son or daughter. Which is exactly why I don’t. I side with whoever is behaving correctly. Whether that is my son or not!”

I admired her for that. “This,” I thought, “is the sort of mother-in-law I’d like to have one day…”

A few years later it was my turn to have a boyfriend, let’s call him Claudio, just to protect his privacy.

We dated for a few months and were very much in love. I often visited him at his flat in the city, where I met his parents, who seemed fine.

At some point our relationship grew stronger and we started to talk about future plans, possibly living together and getting married. It was at this point that I noticed a change in my mother-in-law. She became progressively cold and distant, for no obvious reason.

I used to phone Claudio on their house phone (mobiles weren’t really a thing yet) and she’d pick up and tell me he wasn’t around, when I knew perfectly well that he was home. I’d ask her to pass on a message for him to call me back. She never did.

Eventually, when we’d meet up he’d say his mother hadn’t told him about my call. This happened a few times and I started to say to Claudio that perhaps she didn’t like me that much. He would brush it off: “She just forgets things at times.”

One day Claudio’s sister was visiting with her boyfriend and my mother-in-law decided to prepare a big family lunch to celebrate. The idea was also for me to meet my cognata (sister-in-law) and cognato (brother-in-law).

When I arrived at Claudio’s flat and he introduced us, I liked them straight away:  they were both affettuosi (affectionate) and simpatici.

As I entered the kitchen I could smell something strong and spicy and I started to worry a little. I have always had a delicate stomach and I just can’t eat spicy food.

That was never really a problem in Italy, since our cuisine is not traditionally spicy, except for the occasional regional dish. My family, and Claudio’s parents, knew that I didn’t do spicy food, or peas, or cucumbers or raw tomatoes for that matter.

So I sat at the table and my mother-in-law started serving penne all’arrabbiata, a fiery pasta dish made with chillies, garlic and tomatoes.

I thought to myself: “Of all the dishes you could make, you had to pick this one!”

I politely skipped the primo and said I would just have some bread instead, hoping I could make up with the secondo.

When the secondo was presented I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was some kind of casserole, fragrant and unmistakably spicy. The smell alone made me queasy.

“Who on earth makes a spicy casserole in the middle of summer? With this heat?” I thought.

What was I going to do?

I glanced at Claudio, who understood immediately. No words needed, his face said it all: half embarrassment, half feeling sorry for me.

I didn’t want to cause problems, especially in front of my new cognati,  so I took a serving. But I couldn’t eat it. I pushed it around my plate, pretended to try some, but it just wasn’t happening.

“You don’t like it, do you?” my suocera said.

Everyone looked at me.

“Mmm… it’s nice, but a bit too spicy for me.”

“I knew it, I knew it! You don’t like my cooking.”

“Of course I do. You’re a great cook. But perhaps you forgot I can’t eat spicy food.”

Whether she’d really forgotten or not, there was no point trying to explain. I just wanted to disappear.

Claudio jumped in: “Mamma, that’s not true that Martina doesn’t like your cooking. She’s just not one for spicy food. It must have slipped your mind.”

“Am I not at liberty to cook what I want in my own home?” she shouted.

“Of course you are,” I said.

“You don’t like anything, do you? You’re such a fussy eater!”

“Not quite.  There are just a few things I don’t eat. It’s fine, I can have some bread and cheese.” I reached for another piece of focaccia.

She didn’t reply. Her stare was enough.

My cognato tried to help.

“I’m sure Martina likes plenty of foods… Let’s think of some.”

That was dangerous territory.

He scanned the table: “She likes bread, she’s had some grissini, and… I bet she likes caprese. Everyone likes caprese!”

“No she doesn’t!” My mother-in-law stood up and banged the table. “She doesn’t eat tomatoes! Who on earth doesn’t like tomatoes? Do you know a single person who doesn’t like tomatoes?”

By then I felt so attacked that I stood up too. “I think I should leave.”

And despite Claudio trying to hold me back, I walked out of that apartment.

That was the last time I saw my first suocera. Claudio and I stayed together a little while longer, before eventually going our separate ways.

I never did find out why things changed between us. Perhaps she had her reasons, and there are always two sides to a story.

A few years later I married my British husband, and per fortuna, my current suocera is a truly lovely woman. Turns out acquired family can go either way!

Looking back, it’s funny how many new family relationships you pick up along the way… whether you’re ready for them or not.

So I thought it was the perfect excuse to put together a little word scramble all about La famiglia acquisita, the family you gain through love rather than blood. You might even discover an Italian family word that English doesn’t really have.