The question
My partner's parents and siblings are seriously picky eaters. They only like basic, 1970s-style foods with absolutely no seasoning (think plain chicken, French fries, buttered bread, canned corn). I generally don't cook like that, so I get a little stressed when we have the family over for dinner. On the one hand, I want to make something I think they'll like, but on the other hand, I get a little miffed that they won't even try to eat outside their very short list of acceptable foods. And they're not shy about making wrinkled noses or open comments about something being yucky (say, couscous salad). It strikes me as just plain rude. Once, they would not even try a delicious turkey soup made by their own son/brother. I was raised to eat whatever someone made for you. But this family clearly never got that lesson taught to them. Should I just give up and make what they like?
The answer
I've heard of people who are gluten intolerant (can't eat wheat) and people who are lactose intolerant (react badly to dairy).
(Seinfeld: "I'm lactose intolerant … I have no patience for lactose and I won't stand for it!")
I've heard of pescatarians (no meat but will eat fish), vegetarians (no meat or fish), lacto-ovo vegetarians (no meat but will eat animal by-products such as milk and eggs) and vegans (no animal products or byproducts whatsoever: They may also recoil, or attack, depending on individual temperament, at the wearing of leather, fur, or even down).
But yours is the first case I've encountered of turkey-soup-intolerant seventies-tarians.
Actually, your relatives sound more like fifties-tarians to me. At least in the 1970s there was some modicum of experimentation, e.g. fondue, taco salad, chicken with pineapple and walnut-crusted cheese logs.
And mussels. I dimly remember there being a huge craze for mussels, everyone elbowing their way to the buffet in their big-collared shirts, bell-bottoms, headbands and platform shoes, and scarfing down mussels as if they were going out of style almost as fast as their outfits.
But chicken, French fries, canned corn and buttered bread? That sounds pretty fifties to me.
So the question is: To what extent do you accommodate the dietary restrictions of the vegetarians, pescatarians, fifties-tarians and gluten- and lactose-intolerant folk who come to dinner chez vous?
My thinking on this topic has evolved over the years. I used to feel, like you, that people should accept whatever's on offer and simply eschew whatever their digestive systems can't tolerate, or goes against their religious or philosophical beliefs, or the decade their tastes are stuck in.
And if the host or hostess asks if there's a problem, just say something like: "Oh, it's fine, I'm a vegetarian, I'll just have the salad."
I recall once my oldest son, having just become a vegetarian at the age of 13, was going to a friend's house and said: "Maybe I should call his mother and tell her I'm a vegetarian."
And I was, like: "Oh, no, no, kid, you're not going to be that type of vegetarian. You just eat what you can and be happy."
But my thinking's changing. I had some people over a few years ago, served a pork roast and one of my guests took me aside, told me he was Jewish and didn't eat pork, but "it's fine, I'll have the other stuff."
"No, no, no," I said, "I'll make you something else." So I whipped him up a chicken piccata, easiest thing in the world to make (simply flour and fry a chicken cutlet, squeeze on lemon, sprinkle on capers).
And man, did that ever earn me a lot of points with him. For years: "That Dave's a great guy, what a mensch," etc.
In your case, I'd say: Isn't the path of accommodation the path of least resistance?
In a way, they're doing you a favour. Look at it as a break from the modern stress we put upon ourselves, fuelled by such perfectionists as Martha Stewart and Gwyneth Paltrow, to be oh-so-gourmet when we have people over for dinner.
If there's anything I've learned over a lifetime of dinner parties, it's that the host/hostess will kill themselves over the food, stress out, turn on each other ("How was your predinner fight?" my friends will smirkingly say as they come through the door), but guests tend to care less about the food than they imagine.
They care much more about chatting (and wine), catching up (and wine) and having a nice and convivial time together (along with wine).
So why not swallow your foodie pride – it just causes friction anyway – and serve them what they want: chicken, French fries, canned corn and buttered bread (it actually sounds quite tasty to me).
And concentrate on conversation, fellowship and having a good time.