I know it’s time to clean out the refrigerator when there are no more plastic containers in the cupboard for leftovers. Perhaps if I never prepared more food than my family would eat at one meal, then I wouldn’t have to face this quandary. I do have the option of tossing the remainder of the family meal right after dinner – but the “they are starving somewhere in the world” mantra running through my head – eliminates this option.
Since the contents of the fridge are now tumbling out onto the floor when I open the door, I face the facts and begin the task of sorting through the containers and carefully wrapped packages to see what is salvageable and what must be sent to its final destination. Concoctions long forgotten – perhaps best forgotten – are hauled from their secret hiding places and either fed to the ravenous garbage disposal or dumped in the trash.
Because I don’t want to keep all this fun to myself, I gather my family together for an enjoyable hour spent passing little treasures along the bucket brigade to the sink, wondering what those delicacies had once been and listening to the brilliant remarks of my husband and family. This is a time for discovery – three jars of Chutney and I have no idea why I even needed one, there’s that bottle of soy sauce I was looking for the other day when I ended up substituting Worcestershire sauce instead (they’re both brown) and I didn’t know we still had potato salad – I would have eaten that.
Upon examination of the contents of some containers, I am positive I never prepared anything that had the ability to turn into a science project. One of my children sagely observes, “Maybe that’s why it’s a leftover.”
The child does have a point but certainly isn’t making any.
Each evening I carefully put away the portion of my family’s meal that is “to be eaten later,” my intentions are always good. I really do intend to pull those tasty bits out and eat them or make someone else eat them. My problem seems to be how much later. For whatever reason the chicken casserole doesn’t have the same appeal on night two or three as it did on night one so I gently push it to the back of the shelf behind the milk where I can promptly forget it ever existed.
I have a friend who is so organized that she never wastes food. Each package goes into the refrigerator labeled and dated. A list posted on the refrigerator door indicates in what order the items are to be consumed. And woe to the person who breaks that rule! If plans change and the meal cannot be consumed on the appointed day, then it is promptly transferred to the freezer and a notation made on the freezer contents list.
Everything has its place, neat little rows of matching containers. No hodgepodge in that fridge, unlike my miscellaneous assortment of margarine dishes, Cool Whip containers and the three packs I buy at the grocery store stuck in every which way. No surprises hidden behind the milk carton for her. By the way, is there a law that states manufactures are prohibited from making the same size container twice?
The problem I have with my friend’s system is that I don’t always want to eat leftover tacos on the appointed day. I might have a yen for a roast beef sandwich or chicken salad instead. I suppose that means I have no self-discipline. I can live with that. Copyright Bonnie Phelps 2008.
