Dh is a very good cook and loves cooking. I am an OK cook, but don't enjoy it particularly. He works long hours, generally, so it makes sense for me to cook for both of us on week nights and him to cook at weekends (using every pan, implement, etc, and making mess everywhere, but that is another story).
On Monday I made curry. He complained that it was like the one he made but not as good. He poked it around suspiciously, ate it, and made polite but unconvincing noises at the end.
Yesterday I made a pasta sauce with red onion, wine, sausages (River Cafe recipe, takes hours to prepare). He took one look at it, then said 'there's too much onion' (I don't like red onion but added it because he complains if I omit it). He pokes suspiciously, and starts eating. 'You didn't dice the onion properly, the pieces are too big'. Sits looking like a sulky teenager. Then, 'did you forget the chilli', 'no', 'well it is very mild' (clearly not believing a word I say).
At this point I remark quietly that I will not be cooking evening meals for him from now on (whilst trying to stop myself tipping the bowl of pasta over his head). He flounces off, slams doors, and sulks upstairs. Half an hour later he comes downstairs and tells me I'm turning into my mother by expecting everyone to eat food without complaining (her food is dire).
Sorry, very log and dull. But I'm so p**d off with him now. And I'm not cooking tonight.