I’m on a summer cleaning binge and every place I tackle, every closet, every drawer, every cupboard, is an archeological dig where I’m unearthing all sorts of things about myself, my past, and my possibilities…
And some of it is disconcerting.
It seems as though I have good intentions when it comes to my eating habits. I go to the grocery store and stalk up on all sorts of green leafy vegetables: spinach and escarole and baby zucchini. Unfortunately nine times out of ten I end up throwing out many a rotten bag of some sort of putrid vegetable – like goo.
Oddly enough I never end up throwing out potato chips or ice cream.
This tells me that I “know” what is good for me, place a toe on that path to good health, then snatch it away and go the primrose way. It’s like going to the gym, stepping on that treadmill, then saying “*@#! it. I’m going for a beer and a cigar”.
I have random products, some of which I don’t remember buying, like a 500g tub of miso paste.
And pickled artichoke hearts.
And fish sauce.
For the life of me I can’t remember buying these ingredients but I must have had some bizarre recipe in mind or I was too busy reading “The National Inquirer” (only allowed within the confines of a grocery store) while I was pushing the cart and mistakenly picked the wrong item off the shelf. Or I may have had grandiose plans of throwing a soirée of exotic fare.
I wonder how long miso paste lasts? The expiry date is written in Japanese. Maybe I can figure something out so I can use those soba noodles and the obscure dried mixed mushroom medley I bought at the Asian grocery market that have been sitting in my pantry for the last two years.
And potatoes and beets. One of these days I’ll roast some root vegetables. Until then they’re sprouting nicely in my crisper. Actually I don’t think I’m supposed to put root vegetables in the fridge. I think I’ve been told that they should be stored in my dark pantry so they don’t get all “starched up”. For some reason I still keep putting them in the refrigerator. I buy lots of potatoes and beets because they remind me of growing up on the farm. We’d harvest them in the late summer or fall and store them in the basement. Roasted root vegetables are comfort food that sits well in the stomach. And fill you up to boot. I obviously don’t cook them often but it’s nice to know they are there if I ever need an idiot proof, stick to your ribs meal. Boil up a couple of wieners and you’re good to go. Which reminds me of one of my favourite meals growing up. Mom would boil wieners, mash some potatoes, slit the wieners length – wise, fill with the mashed potatoes, top with cheese and broil until the cheese melts. THE BEST EVER after a long day at school.
Moving on to what I have collected in the door of the fridge, I find two left over bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon unopened with a smidge of wine in each. One from book club and the other from when my friend Chriss came over to strategize lesson plans. Strategizing goes much better when you share a bottle of wine.
Or a couple of Cornona’s.
Hmmm, I also have 11 different flavours of salad dressing (yikes the expiration date on one is 2006), wasabi, three different types of curry and a small bowl of cherries so far back in the recesses of the fridge they are frozen. Which goes to show that I REALLY am trying to up my “leafy green” intake by making available a plethora of dressing choices to help enhance the salad experience.
I wonder if a person can conduct a somewhat accurate psychoanalytical assessment on another person by merely going through her refrigerator?
I’m also in the process of cleaning out an old trunk I’ve had since my university days. It’s filled with all sorts of angst filled journals and letters from old boyfriends. There may be a day when I share bits and pieces of those too
but I’m pretty sure they won’t offer as much entertainment as the contents of my fridge.