“We were married ten weeks and enjoying our new home,” relates Bracha. “Five days before Shavuos, I happily wrote a menu and asked my new husband if I could have the car the next day for my shopping trip.” “ ‘But we didn’t decide yet what we’re making!’Danny objected. “ ‘I… I made the menu forYomTov,’ I told him. “ ‘You made a menu already?’ “ ‘Shavuos is in five days!’ “He looked at me, swallowed and… said nothing. For a long time. Then he quietly said, ‘Bracha, could I see it?’         “Well, suffice it to say, the menu went through some amendments.Danny had different ideas aboutYomTov food. He wanted each dish to be special. When I protested that I didn’t know how to make beef Wellington, salmon wontons, or gnocchi, my new husband said he would take care of it. He then rewrote the shopping list and gave me detailed instructions to go with it. ‘Leeks shouldn’t be too large, those are rubbery. You could get tail pieces of the salmon, it’s a lot cheaper and won’t make a difference for this dish….’ “We spentErevYomTov in the kitchen together. He did every single thing differently, down to the way he diced an onion. “In the early afternoon,Danny turned to me with a smile and said he thought everything was under control, and he was looking forward to spendingYomTov together. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “This moment should have been mine. “I knew how to cook. I even liked cooking. I had dreamed of makingYomTov for my husband. What had happened? Were my cooking skills — and therefore my wifely qualifications—not good enough for the man I had married?”