It was all a matter of taste, Edna thought, a little of this, a little of that, and somehow everything comes together in the end.

Earl disagreed. Earl disagreed with everything, in fact. Soups were too hot, salads too cold, roasts too chewy and potatoes too bland.

To top it all off, the cherry on the cake, as it were, he said her cooking disagreed with his constitution. Had done so for years, in fact.

Edna sank beneath this culinary betrayal.

She stood by helpless as Earl sought the pleasures of take out, enjoying the labours of other, less skilled, cooks, while she dined alone.

Paper bags and Styrofoam containers snuck in – he thought he could deceive her, but no, she found their grease-spattered remains hidden in the trash. Once, she opened the car glove b...

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