My Husband Is A Food Critic. I Knew Something Was Wrong When He Enjoyed My Cooking.

My husband, Lawrence, is a food critic for a respected publication. It’s ironic that he would end up with someone like me; I’m a terrible cook. I could butcher cheese on toast! But fortunately that wasn’t a deal breaker for him. We’ve been happily married for almost 20 years.

Lawrence came home from reviewing a new Balkan restaurant a couple of nights ago. I was sitting in the armchair reading by the fireplace. Our cat, Dibble, jumped down from my lap to greet him.

“Penny, I’m home darling,” he called from the hallway.

“In here,” I called back, finishing off the chapter I’d started. He kissed my cheek and I removed my reading glasses, folding the corner of my current page down.

“How was it, love?” I asked as he sat on the sofa. Dibble curled up on his lap. Whenever Lawrence was home, Dibble rarely paid me any interest. He was definitely a daddy’s boy.

“You’d never believe me, Penny, ” he said, briefly covering his face with his hands before laughing.

“Oh dear. Was it terrible?” I asked, starting to chuckle.

“It’s not that,” he said. “It was mostly enjoyable, however the main course just wasn’t quite there. The head chef joined me when I’d finished, asked how I found the food. Rayko, his name. Huge Bulgarian guy, built like a brick shithouse! I was honest. I wasn’t rude, I didn’t completely berate his work. But he was visibly hurt. And then he looked angry.”

“Oh, Lawrence,” I said. “Have you made yourself another enemy?” He had a habit of upsetting chefs. He was a dream to me, but not always so kind to those he critiqued.

“Well…” he continued, looking confused. “Not exactly. I started to feel uncomfortable. I mean, he towered over me. For a moment I thought he was going to break my nose! But then his face warmed up. ‘No problem’ he says, then he shouts something in Bulgarian. Someone comes out from the kitchen and puts this bottle on the table. It’s got some kind of vivid green liquid in it.”

“Absinthe?” I asked.

“No, but that’s exactly what I thought too! There’s no way I’m drinking that shit. So Rayko says ‘From my country. We drink’. He pours two shots. And, you know, I don’t want to piss him off any more than I already have. So I picked up a glass. It’s iridescent, like a tiny little galaxy. Quite beautiful really. He looks at me with this intensity, and I get goosebumps. Then he says something else in Bulgarian, like under his breath. He clinks my glass, and we down the shots.”

“What did it taste like?” I asked.

“Sweet and syrupy, a bitter edge, but not unpleasant. Quite delicious actually. Then Rayko shouts something else, making me jump. Another person brings out this bowl and puts it in front of me. ‘You have dessert now’ he says. Penny, it looked gross.”

I covered my mouth and laughed. “Oh no! What was it?”

“I couldn’t tell you. It was just a beige stodgy substance, as appealing as wallpaper paste! So I’m trying to be polite, lie a little and say I’m not really one for sweets. Rayko says ‘You eat. You enjoy, you give good review, yes?’ All I could do was laugh. I’m like ‘Sure, buddy. I’ll leave you a glowing review if I enjoy this slop’. So I stir it, and I bring a little to my nose and smell it. Penny…”

“Was it vile?” I asked, scrunching up my face.

He shook his head. “No. It smelled wonderful, and nostalgic. It was just like my nana’s homemade apple crumble.”

“How bizarre,” I said. “And the taste?”

“It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever tasted, Penny. I devoured the whole thing like an animal. I totally forgot my surroundings. When my head was present again, the other diners were staring at me like I was crazy.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Perhaps there was something in that drink? Some kind of, I don’t know, hallucinogen?”

“Hmm,” he frowned. “I mean, Rayko was a somewhat eccentric man. It’s possible I guess. I have no other explanation. But now I owe him a positive review.”

Lawrence stood up, picking up Dibble and putting him on the floor. “I know it’s early but I feel exhausted,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”

It was just after 9. I nodded. “It sounds like you could do with an early night, love. I’ll read a few more chapters and then join you.”

He gave me a kiss and looked down at Dibble. “You stay and keep mummy company.”

When he retired, Dibble jumped back on my lap. “Oh, so you want me now daddy’s gone?” He looked at me with half closed eyes as he purred. I scratched the top of his head. “It’s a good job you’re so cute.”

I read a few more chapters of my book; a reread of Winter’s Bone which is one of my favourites, and a perfect read by an open fire. As the flames became embers, I put Dibble in his bed and switched off the lights.

Lawrence was sound asleep when I went to our en suite to brush my teeth. However, I couldn’t find the toothpaste. I could have sworn we had at least half a tube that morning. I looked everywhere, not that there were many places to look in the small bathroom. There was a small glob of ocean-blue paste in the sink, so it looked like Lawrence must have brushed his teeth. I didn’t dwell on it, settling for mouthwash.

The next morning when I woke up, Lawrence was still sound asleep. I headed downstairs, greeted by Dibble who wove between my legs. I put a scoop of his dry food in a bowl and made coffee for myself.

After reading a little more, I heard Lawrence get up and go to our small spare room, which was his makeshift office. I went back to the kitchen and started to fry some bacon, then made Lawrence a mug of coffee which I took upstairs. I knocked on the door, then entered.

“Morning, love,” I said, putting the coffee on his desk and kissing his cheek. He was in his swivel chair writing on his laptop.

“Good morning, honey. Thank you.”

“Are you making a start on the magic dessert review?” I chuckled, wrapping my arms around his chest.

“I am,” he said. “I have to say, it’s reading like poetry. It could be one of the best reviews I’ve written.”

“Don’t be too kind,” I said, kissing the top of his head. “He might have drugged you.”

He laughed and patted my arms. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m making myself a bacon sandwich. Would you like one?”

“I’m not hungry right now, darling. But thank you.”

“If you’re sure?” I said, and turned to leave. Then I stopped in the doorway. “Oh, by the way. What happened to the toothpaste?”

There was a slight pause before he answered me. “The toothpaste?”

“I couldn’t find it when I came to bed last night. It was definitely there yesterday morning.”

He swivelled around, then slapped a hand against his head. “Oh, yes. I bloody dropped it down the loo! I fished it out and threw it away. Don’t worry, I scrubbed my hands clean!”

I smiled. “You clumsy fool. I’ll add it to the shopping list. At least we have mouthwash for the time being.”

I went back to the kitchen to finish my sandwich. In true Penny style, the bacon was burnt to a crisp, and the kitchen was a little smoky. I started to add ketchup when I heard Lawrence bounding down the stairs, then he emerged in the kitchen doorway.

“Honey,” he said, breathing heavily. “What coffee was that?”

I was a little confused. “Just the usual Nescafé, why?”

I finished making my sandwich, pressing another slice of buttered bread on top of the crispy bacon.

“It was…” He just stared at me. “It was just like the coffee we had in Florence. Remember that café we fell in love with?”

I smiled as I began to cut the sandwich in half. “I remember it well. But it’s just standard instant coffee, love. Maybe I stirred it differently today.”

He continued to stare as I picked up the plate, his mouth ajar.

“That smells incredible,” he said, his eyes wide.

I laughed. “Stop it, you. Even Dibble would turn down my bacon and you know it.”

“I’m serious,” he said, salivating. “I… I’ve changed my mind!” He rushed towards me, pulling the plate from my hands. He bit into the sandwich and… growled.

“Lawrence!” I said, annoyed. It was like he couldn’t hear me. Grease dribbled down his chin and t-shirt as he noisily devoured it.

“I could have made you one,” I said, but he wasn’t listening.

“Oh, fuck!” he moaned, his eyes rolled back into his head. It was very unsettling. I slowly backed away and took the shopping list, stuck to the fridge with a magnet. I jotted down toothpaste then crept past Lawrence, who was still infatuated with the sandwich.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll grab something when I’m out shopping.” I took my bag and left the house, feeling slightly unnerved.

When I finished the food shop, I stopped at Greggs for a bacon roll before heading home. I took two bags from the car and entered the house, walking down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Lawrence,” I called. “Will you help me with the bags please? I somehow bought more than…”

As I entered the kitchen, I dropped the bags and let out a gasp, covering my mouth with both hands. “Lawrence… What have you done?”

He was slumped against one of the cupboards, surrounded by several empty tins of cat food. His shirt was covered in slimy meat and jelly, as was his face. Dibble sat on his lap, licking it up. When Lawrence met my eyes, he looked ashamed. He attempted to wipe his mouth clean with the back of his arm.

“Darling,” he said. “I think I need help.”

As Lawrence showered I cleaned up the kitchen, concerned but grossed out. I was convinced it was Rayko who was responsible for my husband’s behaviour, so I insisted that we pay a visit to the restaurant. He sat in the passenger seat, looking disorientated as I drove into the city.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he said quietly. “The taste… Penny, it was beautiful. Even better than the Michelin rated dishes I’ve tried.”

I gave him a worried look.

“And I lied. I ate the toothpaste.” I tried not to act shocked as he looked at me sheepishly. “It’s like everything I eat tastes better than the last.”

I patted his leg quickly. “I’m telling you. He gave you something. That’s the only explanation.”

When we got to the restaurant it was closed. I knocked on the door regardless, looking through the windows.

“I can see people in there,” I said. “Hello? I can see you! Open up!” I continued to bang on the door. Lawrence leant against the building, looking uncomfortable. Eventually a member of staff opened the door.

“Excuse me,” said the young woman, annoyed. “We’re closed until this evening.”

“I don’t care,” I shouted. “I want to speak to the chef. He’s done… something to my husband!”

Lawrence put his hand on my shoulder and looked at the woman with puppy dog eyes. “Please, is chef Rayko here? I really need to talk to him.”

“Let them in,” came a loud voice from inside. I supported Lawrence as we entered the restaurant. There was the faint smell of food preparation.

“Sit,” said Rayko, who was a hulk of a man as Lawrence described. I helped him onto a chair and let it all out.

“What did you do to my husband? Look at him! He was fine before he came here!”

“Calm down, lady,” said Rayko, holding up his hands.

“Don’t you calm down lady me you son-of-a-bitch!”

“Honey,” said Lawrence, a little feeble. “Please, sit down.”

I angrily pulled out a chair and sat, giving Rayko daggers. He sat on the opposite side of the table, hands together.

“Hello again, chef,” said Lawrence. “I wrote your five-star review. One of my finest, if I may say so. Not sure I should turn it in just yet though. I’m having some unusual side effects.”

“He ate cat food,” I spat. “And toothpaste for Christ’s sake!”

Lawrence squeezed my leg. “I did. My stomach feels like it can’t take anymore. And yet right now, all I want to do is crawl into the kitchen and eat whatever that is I can smell. Can you explain that to me, chef?”

Rayko nodded. “I say special words, give special drink. You like what you eat.”

“I knew it,” I shouted, banging on the table. Despite his imposing size, Rayko flinched. “You have no right to do this to people. Take it back!”

Lawrence took my hand. “What do you say, chef? Can you take it back? No hard feelings, of course.”

Rayko nodded. “It’s not for always. It’s one day.” He held up a single finger to reiterate.

Lawrence perked up a little. “You mean, like a 24 hour thing?”

“Yes,” said Rayko. “24 hour thing. Tonight, you feel better.”

Lawrence tilted his head back and sighed with relief. “Oh, that’s good news. Isn’t it honey?”

“The best,” I said sarcastically, helping Lawrence up. “Let’s get you out of here.”

As we went to leave, Rayko called from behind. “Sorry. Food mean world to me, you understand?”

Lawrence turned and nodded. “I understand. It means the world to me, too. Good luck with your restaurant.”

On the drive home, Lawrence looked like he was in better spirits.

“We should still press charges,” I said. “He can’t get away with that.”

“I’d rather just forget about it, darling,” he said. “The reality is I ate some cat food. I’ll get over it.”

“And toothpaste,” I added.

“Yes, and toothpaste. But remember, I’ve eaten worse. I’ve eaten your spag bol.”

I laughed and slapped his leg. “You cheeky sod! But yes, that’s probably worse.”

When we got home, Lawrence laid down on the couch.

“Roughly what time did he give you that drink?” I asked.

“I was home around 9ish, wasn’t I?” he asked. “I’d say it was no more than an hour or two before then. Say 8 to be safe.”

“Okay, so we need to get you past 8 o’clock with no more… issues. I’m not going to Pilates tonight, I’ll stay here with you.”

“No, Penny,” he said. “I’ll be fine, promise. I won’t leave this room. I’ll probably just put on a movie and sleep to be honest.”

“I’m not leaving you and that’s the end of it,” I said.

He smiled. “Give me a kiss.”

I scrunched up my nose. “I would, but all I can think about is that darn cat food.”

“Hey, don’t knock it ’til you try it! I particularly recommend the chicken and liver variety.”

“I’m glad you can joke about it, sweetheart,” I said, kissing his cheek.

“Who says I’m joking?” he grinned.

Dibble made an appearance and jumped up on the couch, curling up to Lawrence. We chatted for a while until he drifted off to sleep. I lit the fire, then went to the kitchen. Despite the day’s events I was starving!

I decided not to cook anything, not wanting to fill the house with any tempting smells. So I started to make the second sandwich of the day, but with just a simple cheese and coleslaw filling. As I began to slice the cheddar I cut my finger. Not too deep, but it drew blood.

“Dammit!” I yelled out, then pulled off some kitchen paper to wrap around it. I started to look through our kitchen drawer of oddments, grabbing the box of plasters amongst the batteries, hex keys, and paracetamol.

“Are you alright, honey?” said Lawrence in the doorway. He startled me.

“I’m fine, love,” I said. “I just nicked my finger. You go back and lay down.”

He stood motionless, just staring at me.

“Lawrence, go lay down. I’ll be right back in.”

He walked over to me. “Let me help you, Penny.”

“Honestly, it’s fine,” I said. “Just a little scratch.” I turned to look at the bread and cheese on the counter. ’There goes my sandwich again’ I thought to myself, though he didn’t seem to notice. He unwrapped the kitchen roll and looked at my finger.

“You poor thing,” he said, bringing my hand towards his mouth and kissing it. Then he squeezed my finger, a bubble of blood emerging from the cut.

“Lawrence,” I said, pulling away. “That hurt!”

“Sorry, darling,” he said, pulling me back. “I’ll make it better.” His eyes glazed over, then he put my finger in his mouth and started to suckle.

“Lawrence, stop it!” I yelled, but he held my hand in place. He started to make pleasurable sounds. I struggled to pull away.

“Let me go!” I snapped, kicking out. My foot met his shin and he let go of my hand, wincing as he stepped back. I clutched my chest as I stared at him in shock. When he looked up, he didn’t meet my eyes once. He just stared at my hand with a look of intense desire. Then he pounced.

I fell onto the tiled floor as I gasped. He crawled on top of me and prised my hand from my chest, biting down on my finger with a crunch!

“Lawrence!” I screamed as I felt his teeth tear through the skin. His eyes rolled back like he was possessed. I struggled under his weight.

“Help me!” I yelled, knowing full well no one would come to my aid. We lived in a detached house on a secluded country road. I slapped and punched at him with my free hand as he began to chew on my finger. The pain was excruciating.

I heard a high-pitched yowl and Lawrence let me go, roaring into the kitchen. Blood and saliva ran down his chin. Dibble was nearby, hissing.

“Stay out of this, Dibble,” Lawrence screamed over his shoulder. “You’d do the same if you knew how good mummy tastes!”

As he turned back I forced my knee hard into his crotch. He yelled and rolled off me, holding his hands between his legs. I scurried up, slipping on the tiles a little. I should have run for the front door, but our downstairs bathroom was closer.

“Come on Dibble,” I said frantically, but he’d already run out of sight. I briefly turned to see Lawrence stand up. I slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it, retreating to the corner and dropping to the floor by the toilet.

“Penny!” came a yell from outside, the door vibrating as Lawrence pounded against it. I pressed my hands against my ears. “I need it, Penny!”

A crack emerged as it sounded like a heavy object was being forced into the door. It started to splinter.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed as the crack got bigger, the sound of splintering wood shredded my nerves.

“Just a little more, darling,” he yelled, continuing to smash in the door. “You taste exquisite!”

I heard Dibble hiss again.

“Come here, you little fucker!” he yelled as things crashed in the hallway. After a short while Dibble let out what sounded like a painful yowl.

“Don’t you touch him, Lawrence!” I screamed, banging on the wall. But it became eerily quiet.

I assessed the damage to my finger. I wasn’t too precious about my nails, though I did treat myself to a French manicure on the odd occasion. I’d be lucky if I didn’t lose the nail on that finger. It was split down the middle, and the skin was broken in several places. I gagged a little, moving my head over the toilet bowl. But I managed to stop myself from vomiting.

I pulled the towel from the rail by the sink and wrapped it around my hand. I heard Lawrence’s footsteps walk past the door back to the kitchen, making me freeze momentarily.

“Mmm, that’s good,” he said, then I could hear the sound of cupboards closing before he came back again.

I sat in the corner for a while until I eventually checked my watch. It was past 8, and I hadn’t heard any noise for several minutes. So I slowly stood up and put my ear against the door. I couldn’t hear anything.

“Lawrence?” I said quietly as I pushed the door open, looking both ways down the hall. There were little spots of blood on the wooden floor, which seemed to disappear into the living room. I held my hand against my chest and crept down the hall, peeking inside. Lawrence sat in front of the fireplace with his back to me.

“Lawrence,” I trembled. “Are you alright?”

“I’m sorry, Penny,” said Lawrence, like a zombie. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’ll be fine, my love,” I said, trying to sound calm. My skin crawled when I noticed a clump of fur in a small pool of blood. “Where’s Dibble?”

“He smelt so good,” he said. “Like, imagine all the best dishes you’ve ever eaten in your life. But double it. Imagine how beautiful the aromas would be.”

I crept closer, my hands shaking as I followed the spots of blood. “Where is he, Lawrence?”

He continued, monotone. “Poor Dibble. I tried, Penny. I really tried. But the smell… It changed me. So I bit him. Hard.”

I shook my head as tears began to fall. “No… Please tell me you didn’t…”

“I wanted to,” he said. “And I would have. But he scratched me badly.”

I heard a noise from the corner of the room and saw two glowing eyes reflecting the firelight. It was Dibble, cowering.

“Oh, thank God,” I said, picking him up and holding him tight against me. His body trembled. As I patted him, he hissed when I felt near his tail. A few inches of the tip were missing, leaving an open wound.

“Dibble, you poor thing,” I said, kissing his head.

“I’m sorry, Dibble,” said Lawrence, vacant. “Sorry Penny. I thought I was stronger than that.”

“It’s okay,” I said, crying. “It could have been… worse. He’s still with us. And he’ll forgive you. He loves you. God knows, he loves you more than he loves me. And look… It’s past 8. That means it’s over!”

He let out a single laugh. “Yes, it’s over. But it wasn’t over soon enough.”

As I crept even closer I noticed something else. “What’s that smell?”

“The scratches,” he said. “They were deep. There was something about fresh blood that was just so intoxicating. So I licked my wounds. And I was in another world, Penny. It was incredible. Then I thought, Imagine if that was seasoned and served hot?“

There were some small jars and bottles lined up by the fireplace: Garlic oil, oregano, cumin, salt, cayenne pepper…

“Lawrence…” I whispered.

“Call an ambulance, honey,” he said, turning to me as I gasped in terror.

His right hand was charred, and missing chunks of flesh. Two of his fingers were stripped to the bone. Tears dampened his cheeks but he smiled, his lips and teeth smeared with deep red.

“In hindsight I regret my actions. But I was the best thing I ever tasted.