"I used to think I was a good cook," said Edwards, an editor at the parenting magazine Cookie. "But my husband's a kitchen bully. He's so critical, I second-guess myself now."

If there were a clinical diagnosis for her problem, it might be called beta cook disorder. Even though Edwards blithely prepared flank steak for dinner parties when she was in college, she is now married to someone who takes charge in the kitchen: an alpha cook.

"I have no problem admitting that I'm an alpha," said her husband, Matthew Hranek, a photographer. "Yolanda wouldn't know a corked bottle of wine if you put it in front of her. When we met, she had four days' worth of dishes in her sink, most of which had what looked like black bean on them. Ever since then, I've cooked for her."

True, life with an alpha cook can mean sitting back and watching while someone else prepares restaurant-quality wild mushroom risotto on a quiet Tuesday night.

But it can also mean putting up with small culinary humiliations and an unending patter of condescending remarks.

When Robin Henry, an interior designer, helps make dinner with her fiance, Andrew Goldman, a writer, she endures his constant, conspicuous scrutiny.

"I'll be standing there, sautéing onions, and I can feel him standing over my shoulder, staring down at the pot and gnashing his teeth," Henry said. "He'll say things like, 'You should really turn that down now."'

Henry relayed this — along with her feeling that she is expected to greet any meal he might make on an average weeknight with the equivalent of a marching band reception — with affection.

"It's part of his charm," she said. Like many betas, she seems to have made peace with her lower status. The only time bitterness crept into her voice was when she talked about the tasks her fiance assigns her when she plays sous-chef.

"He's like, 'Great, yes, come cook with me.' And then he gives me the take-the-chicken-out-of-the-package-and-rinse-it job," she said.

"I am like that," Goldman agreed. "I wouldn't blame Robin if she didn't want to cook with me. I've caught myself. It's not so much me telling her she's doing something wrong. I think it's just that she catches my glances."

It was a nice fantasy while it lasted: Rather than let the lady of the house bear the constant burden of cooking dinner, the modern couple would share the work. Husbands would take an interest in casseroles. Wives would slap slabs of meat on the grill. They would read cookbooks and watch the Food Network together. The kitchen would be a peaceful domain equally ruled by two people.

For many couples, this never happened. Instead, wedged there in the kitchen together, they fell into a power dynamic just as unequal and emotionally fraught as the arrangement that puts the female half in a frilly apron. Instead of a partnership, some couples say, their relationship in the kitchen more closely resembles a tiny dictatorship.

Suzanne Goin, the chef and owner of AOC and Lucques in Los Angeles, is married to David Lentz, the chef and owner of the Hungry Cat in Hollywood. They are both alpha cooks, she said, but that has only been an issue on their nights off.

"In a professional kitchen, you don't really get your feelings hurt," Goin said. "It's a little different at home, though. If David says, 'Do you think this is a little salty?' about something I made, I'll be like: 'No. Do you think it's too salty? Maybe your palate's off.'"

Rebecca Charles, the chef and owner of Pearl Oyster Bar in Manhattan's Greenwich Village and an admitted alpha, said: "Giving orders is fine in a professional environment, but at home it's a little inappropriate. I can be a little bossy. Resentment can build, and before you know it you have a pot flying at your head and you don't know why. Couples cooking together is probably the second leading cause of divorce next to home renovations."

Statistical evidence does not back her up, but therapists are all too familiar with marriages that run aground in the kitchen. "If there's a power struggle, it will come out in cooking together," said Dr. Marion F. Solomon, a couples therapist in Los Angeles. "If a person feels that they're not recognized for their abilities in other areas, they can start to resent the partner who takes control in the kitchen."

Couples who embrace their culinary inequality can still find happiness, Solomon said.

A year and a half ago, before marrying, Armistead Wilson, a teacher in Nashville, Tenn., went to premarital counseling with her future husband, Edwin. It was there that she realized she felt guilty about letting Wilson do all the cooking.

"The counselor said I should just let it go," Armistead Wilson said. "I did. And I'm happier for it. The only time I get even slightly frustrated now is when I'm excited about making something and he takes it over on the sly by showing me a better chopping technique, or by demonstrating how to flip an omelet in the pan. But I'm sure many meals have been saved by this intrusion."

Solomon said that a couple can enjoy playing student and teacher in the kitchen "if one person doesn't feel capable and the other loves to be a mentor."