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um what
[AAM comments from 2022 linked to this, and I am baffled at the answer]
Dear Prudence is Slate’s advice column. For this week’s Thanksgiving edition Dan Kois, a Slate writer and editor, will be filling in as Prudie. [link]
Dear Prudence,
My partner and I celebrate Thanksgiving with their family. Their aunt and uncle host and cook the meal, which they love to do. The issue is that their aunt and uncle are not clean. They pet their dog while cooking and don’t wash their hands. They drop food on the floor and put it back without telling anyone. They cough on the food. The dishes they use are “washed,” but still have food crusted on them. The list goes on.
It seems like they’ve gotten worse over the years. With COVID and the fact that guests have contracted norovirus multiple times in the past after the meal, I just can’t do it anymore. I’m totally grossed out at the idea of eating their food.
How do we deal with this? They won’t give up hosting—and it would still be a problem if they did anyway because they behave this way in other people’s homes. They do not handle criticism well and have a “whatever, it’s fine” attitude about cleaning, in general, so my casual attempts at mentioning food safety have gone nowhere. I don’t think they’ll change their habits no matter what we say, they’ve been like this forever! Thanksgiving is a big deal in my partner’s family and despite the lack of cleanliness, we love getting together with them. We love this aunt and uncle, we just don’t love eating with them. Is there any way to handle this without just saying goodbye to celebrating together?
—Dirty Little Secret
Dear Dirty,
I have scoured your letter, as thoroughly as you might scour a plate, for evidence that any of the other extended family members, the cousins, parents, and nieces, are as grossed out by the situation as you are. After all, they have, I presume, attended Aunt Grimy and Uncle Muck’s Thanksgiving dinner much longer than you have. Is your opinion shared by any of the other guests? For that matter, is it shared by your partner, who has also been attending Thanksgiving for quite some time? (Your letter employs the royal we quite cannily.)
Perhaps your partner’s beloved aunt and uncle are exhibiting truly dangerous food-prep faux pas you have not mentioned: using the turkey baster for nefarious purposes, or allowing the dog to stuff the turkey. But what you describe as “gross” seems to me totally normal home-chef behavior—a little messier than is perfect, but basically par for the course. You’re not going to get COVID from a little dog hair, and you’re just as likely to get norovirus from your toddler cousin as from the chef. The very structure of a Thanksgiving dinner—family arrives from near and far, each unit potentially bringing their local flus and COVID strains—makes the holiday home a petri dish of contagion, irrespective of how clean the dishes are. That’s the price we pay for seeing the people who are dear to us—the people who continue to love us even when we bring home a partner who walks straight into the kitchen and starts casually critiquing our cleanliness.
You have three options. You could stop going to Grimy and Muck’s. You could volunteer to take everyone out to a restaurant for Thanksgiving, after diligent research into the health grades of every nearby eatery. Or you could suck it up and deal with it. I recommend arriving early, rolling up your sleeves, and volunteering to wash the dishes to your satisfaction. Keep your comments to yourself.
—Prudie, sparklingly
Dear Prudence is Slate’s advice column. For this week’s Thanksgiving edition Dan Kois, a Slate writer and editor, will be filling in as Prudie. [link]
Dear Prudence,
My partner and I celebrate Thanksgiving with their family. Their aunt and uncle host and cook the meal, which they love to do. The issue is that their aunt and uncle are not clean. They pet their dog while cooking and don’t wash their hands. They drop food on the floor and put it back without telling anyone. They cough on the food. The dishes they use are “washed,” but still have food crusted on them. The list goes on.
It seems like they’ve gotten worse over the years. With COVID and the fact that guests have contracted norovirus multiple times in the past after the meal, I just can’t do it anymore. I’m totally grossed out at the idea of eating their food.
How do we deal with this? They won’t give up hosting—and it would still be a problem if they did anyway because they behave this way in other people’s homes. They do not handle criticism well and have a “whatever, it’s fine” attitude about cleaning, in general, so my casual attempts at mentioning food safety have gone nowhere. I don’t think they’ll change their habits no matter what we say, they’ve been like this forever! Thanksgiving is a big deal in my partner’s family and despite the lack of cleanliness, we love getting together with them. We love this aunt and uncle, we just don’t love eating with them. Is there any way to handle this without just saying goodbye to celebrating together?
—Dirty Little Secret
Dear Dirty,
I have scoured your letter, as thoroughly as you might scour a plate, for evidence that any of the other extended family members, the cousins, parents, and nieces, are as grossed out by the situation as you are. After all, they have, I presume, attended Aunt Grimy and Uncle Muck’s Thanksgiving dinner much longer than you have. Is your opinion shared by any of the other guests? For that matter, is it shared by your partner, who has also been attending Thanksgiving for quite some time? (Your letter employs the royal we quite cannily.)
Perhaps your partner’s beloved aunt and uncle are exhibiting truly dangerous food-prep faux pas you have not mentioned: using the turkey baster for nefarious purposes, or allowing the dog to stuff the turkey. But what you describe as “gross” seems to me totally normal home-chef behavior—a little messier than is perfect, but basically par for the course. You’re not going to get COVID from a little dog hair, and you’re just as likely to get norovirus from your toddler cousin as from the chef. The very structure of a Thanksgiving dinner—family arrives from near and far, each unit potentially bringing their local flus and COVID strains—makes the holiday home a petri dish of contagion, irrespective of how clean the dishes are. That’s the price we pay for seeing the people who are dear to us—the people who continue to love us even when we bring home a partner who walks straight into the kitchen and starts casually critiquing our cleanliness.
You have three options. You could stop going to Grimy and Muck’s. You could volunteer to take everyone out to a restaurant for Thanksgiving, after diligent research into the health grades of every nearby eatery. Or you could suck it up and deal with it. I recommend arriving early, rolling up your sleeves, and volunteering to wash the dishes to your satisfaction. Keep your comments to yourself.
—Prudie, sparklingly