The Case of the Quiche

To me, making and eating the perfect quiche is the ultimate victory.

Growing up, quiche was my father's favorite thing to make fun of my mother about. (Not tease, in a fun way... make fun of, in a humiliating way.) It was a symbol of the ultimate domestic failure to him.

I came home one day from 4-H... I was probably about 9, and had gotten a ride home from the meeting with my Sunday School teacher. I came home to the smell of food cooking... and my father ranting because his dinner was late. The ultimate crime.

My mom had been brave enough to try something new that night. When she told me today what she had made it of, I was seriously impressed. The recipe called for her to peel and grate potatos (I would have been out at that point, I hate peeling potatos), chop onions, and then go on with the normal quiche preparations. But I digress. For my mom to make anything new was a major act of courage... and this would be one of her last until her later divorce. My father was not a fan of anything new.

So, eventually the quiche did get done... and like my first quiche, it fell. (I'm not sure why hers fell, but mine fell because I didn't read the directions Suzie so awesomely gave me.) We bit into hers... and my dad spit his out, gagging, in a rage. The onions were not done. OH THE HORROR. My father taunted her about this failure for years... telling all of his friends, so they could laugh with him at her humiliation...

As an adult, I look back on that and it makes me sick. How much time did she spend on that stupid quiche?! HOW COULD HE DO THAT TO HER?? And then to make fun of it to his friends, watching her blush in humiliation and quietly take it? It physically makes me sick.

This Monday, after tasting the awesome goodness of Suzie's quiche, I decided to try another recipe I had found in the Taste of Home magazine, using this weeks IOTW (Ingredient of the Week) - Cottage cheese. I mixed it up, according to the directions...

And put it on to bake. It came out absolutely perfect this time (practice makes perfect), and my husband absolutely loved it.


I can't help feeling sad for my mom.... she was a much better wife than I am... she deserved her husband to praise her cooking and share it with his coworkers. She didn't deserve for it to be his means of humiliation for her.

Tonight my mom and I discussed the quiche... and the symbolism of it. Each time I make a quiche, I feel closer to healing. Each time I make a quiche, I feel like I'm saying a huge "up yours!" to every abusive man on the plannet...

And each time I make a quiche, I tell my father that I will NOT live my life in fear of humiliation and shame. I WILL BE FREE!