Stopfkuchen (1891), Wilhelm Raabe. I’m really starting to wish I could find other people who’ve read this so I could continue with the jokey description.

“But wasn’t her father a murd—-”

Tubby: “SORRY CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER THIS IDYLLIC FARM”

Valentina: (putting down cookbook) “Look, If you don’t stop pestering us, I WILL let my husband tell you about his fossil collection until you beg for mercy.”