I once was engaged to a man that had two siblings. No one could really cook, so the mother always had to do it all, and bring it to ...
Shortening the story. I was the first person to actually make Thanksgiving dinner, and I found out it was a mistake! Everyone had to have their own pie, and it had to be homemade. I worked full time, and had to travel 45 minutes to get to his house.

I was drunk as anything (he was a DJ, and we’d done a party the night before. I may have continued drinking afterwards) the first time I had to stuff a turkey. Imagine my surprise when his mother complimented my stitches!

His skeptical father threatened me about knowing if the pumpkin pie was from scratch.

Every single pumpkin pie, cherry pie, and three different kinds (lattice, regular and crumb topping) of apple pie was eaten with joy. I was a hit!
(For those that don’t know, I have killed three fiancées. I didn’t agree to marry DH, but loved his dog. She died!)