When my mother-in-law told me to “just bring chips” to her Fourth of July BBQ because I “can’t cook anyway” I smiled and agreed. But instead of sulking, I decided to get creative. I made chip-based gourmet street taco cones layered with BBQ chicken, chipotle crema, and cilantro slaw. I still brought the party-size bag of kettle chips, of course wouldn’t want to disappoint.
At the BBQ, the moment I unveiled my chip cones, the crowd went wild. Guests swarmed the tray, asking for the recipe and snapping photos. I played it cool, popping one into my mouth while my MIL’s smile stretched thinner by the minute. When someone complimented her “famous” berry tart, I casually pulled out the receipts I’d found in her trash store-bought, both of them. The tart and the cobbler. Her face turned a glorious shade of red.
She tried to spin it, saying she was “supporting local business,” but the damage was done. The judgmental queen of homemade had been dethroned by the girl who “can’t cook.” I didn’t rub it in. I let the moment speak for itself while I sipped a beer and accepted compliments on my “assembly.”
A few months later, for Thanksgiving, my MIL asked me politely to bring a side dish. No emoji. No snide comment. I brought chipotle mac and cheese with a jalapeño kettle chip crust. It was a hit. She asked for the recipe. And for the first time, her smile felt real. Funny how quickly things change when the chips are down.
