Chronic“The pests of summer” (1/8). Some people have a knack for ruining the holidays. “M” tells you which ones to avoid in order to preserve your precious moments of relaxation. This week, the self-proclaimed great organizers of meals.
Lhe people who will pollute our holidays sometimes advance masked, hidden behind the best intentions. Figurehead of this “community”, those who prepare the menus for the day in the morning, or even for the week. In summer, they rule life. No question of going to the creperie at the last minute, “We had planned the roast chicken for tonight”. Note the use of the “on”, whereas they drew these “menu cages” all by themselves.
The weather is nice, the tide is high, we are fine. And if we stayed there, facing the sunset, we could go and get pizzas from the truck… But then we hear the voice of the “menu planner” (because this post remains quite gendered): “We have a rice salad for tonight. » Rice salad against sunset, and it’s the first to win. In addition, what is planned is rarely festive, not even really summery, the planners being able to eat in August under the pines what they would eat in November at home.
We could say to ourselves that it is very practical to have them in a group, but, precisely, the practical life, we have it all year round and it is the one we would like to leave behind us on vacation.
People with children have experienced the last ten months as a long checklist: “You know that today you have your control? “Do you have your sports stuff?” » If they are picked at breakfast during their holidays by stories of salads to plan for the next meal, they have the feeling that memos have been added to the checklist, that they are being forced to keep the same thing in advance than during the year (“We’ll put the leftover chicken in a salad tomorrow…”).
lust for power
The menu planner turns the trip to the market into a chore. No more question of improvisation, fantasy, of being tempted since life is settled like in a boarding house. We have his list, with his requirements (“not too big, the tomatoes”). Those who, during the races, would like small fresh cheeses, pleasant gray shrimps or anything else feel like capricious children. Planners slice (“crozets are not good”). They know what is good for the group, not us.
If a member of the group has the nerve to come up with a good idea for a recipe, he outbids in the way of accommodating it so that the dish becomes his
Why do they behave like this, all these people who, in the other facets of life, turn out to be our friends? It certainly has something to do with power. Everyone knows that, on vacation, the stove is all about control. The one who decides on the menus sends his troops to the market and decides on the movements of the population. He breaks the mood as he pleases (“I need help in the kitchen to peel the potatoes”), sets goals (“the cucumbers, you could rather dice them”) and reap the thanks.
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