When Marcus's parents came to stay, I had seven days to prove that vegan food could win over two committed meat-eaters who thought tofu was a punchline.
When Marcus told me his parents wanted to stay with us for a full week, my first thought wasn't about the guest room sheets or whether we had enough towels. It was about dinner.
Seven dinners, to be exact. Seven opportunities for his mother to politely push food around her plate while his father asked, for the hundredth time, if I was getting enough protein.
I've been vegan for nearly a decade now, and I've made peace with most social dining situations. But cooking for skeptical in-laws in your own kitchen, night after night, is its own particular challenge. You can't just survive on restaurant meals and deflection. You have to deliver.
These four recipes became my secret weapons, and by day five, something shifted. His dad asked for seconds. His mom requested a recipe. I'm not saying food healed years of subtle tension, but it certainly didn't hurt.
1) Mushroom bourguignon that made his dad forget about beef
I knew I needed to start strong, so I went with a dish that felt familiar to them: a rich, wine-braised stew served over creamy mashed potatoes. The trick was using a mix of cremini, shiitake, and portobello mushrooms, which gave the dish that meaty depth without any substitutes that might raise eyebrows.
I let everything simmer low and slow for nearly two hours, the way my own grandmother used to make Sunday roasts. The kitchen smelled like a French countryside bistro, and when I set the bowls down, nobody mentioned the missing beef. His father cleaned his bowl and sopped up the remaining sauce with crusty bread.
That's when I knew the week might actually be okay.
The lesson here? When cooking for skeptics, lean into comfort. Don't try to impress them with something unfamiliar. Meet them where they are, then gently expand the territory.
2) Crispy coconut chickpea curry that converted his mom
Marcus's mother has always been a texture person. She's mentioned more than once that she finds most plant-based proteins "mushy." So for night three, I roasted chickpeas until they were golden and crispy on the outside, then folded them into a creamy coconut curry at the very last minute to preserve that crunch.
I served it over jasmine rice with fresh cilantro and a squeeze of lime. The contrast between the crispy chickpeas and the velvety sauce was exactly what she needed. She actually said, "This is really good," without the usual qualifier of "for vegan food." Progress.
What I've learned over the years is that texture matters as much as flavor, especially for people who are used to the variety that meat provides. Giving them something to bite into makes all the difference.
3) Stuffed shells that felt like a celebration
By mid-week, I wanted something that felt special without requiring me to spend four hours in the kitchen. Stuffed shells hit that sweet spot perfectly. I made a filling with cashew ricotta, spinach, and a touch of nutritional yeast for that subtle cheesy flavor, then nestled them into a homemade marinara.
The key was not apologizing for the dish or over-explaining the ingredients. I just served it family-style, let the golden, bubbling cheese-like top speak for itself, and poured everyone a glass of wine. Sometimes confidence in your cooking is half the battle. If you treat vegan food like it's lesser, others will too.
His parents both went back for more, and his mom asked if cashew ricotta was difficult to make. I told her it takes about five minutes in a food processor. She seemed genuinely surprised.
4) Chocolate lava cakes that sealed the deal
Dessert is where I really wanted to leave an impression. I'd been saving these individual chocolate lava cakes for the final night, knowing that a perfect molten center would be hard to argue with. The recipe uses aquafaba to create that rich, fudgy texture, and when you crack open the top with a spoon, the warm chocolate pools out like magic.
I served them with a scoop of coconut vanilla ice cream and watched his father's face as he took the first bite. He looked at Marcus, then at me, and said, "You can cook like this without eggs?" It wasn't a challenge. It was genuine curiosity. And that, honestly, felt like the real victory.
Dessert has a way of disarming people. It's hard to be skeptical when you're eating warm chocolate cake.
Final thoughts
That week taught me something I'd forgotten in my years of navigating family dynamics around food. It's not about convincing anyone or winning arguments at the dinner table. It's about sharing something you love and letting the experience speak for itself.
By the end of their visit, Marcus's parents weren't suddenly considering going vegan. But they did leave with a different understanding of what plant-based cooking can be. His mom hugged me a little longer than usual at the door. His dad mentioned that maybe they'd try a meatless Monday now and then.
Small shifts, made over shared meals. That's how change happens, isn't it? Not through lectures or debates, but through the simple act of feeding people well and letting them draw their own conclusions.
