Pumpkin Mush and the Italian Inlaws

It's day 11 of a 28 day visit from my Italian inlaws. I have no idea how I'm expected to survive the next 17 days. This is not to say they aren't incredibly thoughtful, helpful, and good-hearted- because they are. But they don't speak English. Not a word. And that always makes these visits a challenge. On the bright side, I could probably compete and win an International Charades competition.

Another challenge, is the overtaking of the kitchen. That's right, once the Italian inlaws arrive, no one is allowed into the kitchen. It may as well be Fort Knox with two very large and unfriendly pitbulls guarding its entry. You want water? Just ask. But don't even think about stepping into this sacred Italian territory.

What's ironic about this whole experience, is that the moment someone hears the Italian inlaws have arrived they immediately assume I'm in paradise.
The next words out of their mouths usually sound something like
"You are SOOOOOOO lucky."
or
"I bet their cooking is unbelievable!!!"
or
"I would pay thousands to have authentic Italian inlaws live in my kitchen for a month!!!"
You get the point.

Well, sorry to burst the dream-cooking bubble, but the best meal I've had in the last 11 days was a Papa John's pepporonni pizza. And I can thank good ole' Papa John for this fantastic meal because the Italian inlaws once again, burnt dinner to a crisp. "No capisco questo cucinare!!" I don't understand this kitchen!! My mother-in-law complains.

Last night, another Italian favorite was destroyed in our complicated American kitchen. Pumpkin Gnocci. The pre-gnocci pudding looked like it had potential....but aha- don't let the good looks fool you. This too, was a culianary disaster. As the gnocci dropped one-by-one into the pot of boiling water its mushy pudding-like contents clumped togther. My mother-in-law struggled to fix the water temperature.
"Che succhesso?!!" What's happening?!! She cries.
I ran into the kitchen to help but I'm stopped by my father-in-law.
"Gratzie, ma non e necessario, tutto bene", he says calmly. Thanks, but that's not necessary, everything's fine.
I return to our sofa, where my husband gives me a look. His expression says "Leave them alone, it's fine."

I consider offering to call Papa John's again, but decide it's best to keep my mouth shut.

About 2 hours later we're called to dinner. "Che pronti!!"
My Italian inlaws escort us into our dining room and lead us to our seats. I'm aware that their intentions are to make us feel as if we're dining at an Italian restuarant throughout the duration of their stay. So I play along.

I sit down and face our evening's delicacy. Orange-colored pasta paste goop in a bowl drowned in butter. Delicious. Pumpkin Gnocci, I'm told.

I eat as much as I can stomach and tell my chefs how much I enjoy their cooking. My husband is glowing and loves every moment of their stay.

It's times like these I must remember what's important. I must remind myself how hard they're trying. I remind myself how their visit means so much to my husband. I remind myself that "For better, for worse" includes Pumpkin Mush for dinner.
I remind myself that I may even lose a few pounds this month...and that if this is the worst it gets, I'm a very lucky wife.