Waste Not, Have Waste

I'm not sure if it is because the garbage people went on strike this week, or if that's just an unfortunate coincidence, but I am dying to throw everything away. Everything in the cupbords, everything in the fridge, I just want to clear it all out and start over.

We live in a culture of waste and I know this because I am a Class-A-1 waster. Believe me, I'm not proud of this fact, and I do actively try to curb it, but it is deeply a part of my nature and I'm not sure why (wait, culture...right, I'm blaming our culture). I hate the last bit of anything: the crumbled up flakes at the bottom of the cereal bag, the crystalline layer of icecream at the bottom of the carton, the single pickle floating like a specimen inside a jar of murky juice. I'd rather throw it out than eat it.

Part of it, I think, is a fear of eating something gone bad. I'm not sure where this fear comes from...I've never had a serious case of food poisoning and aside from a mouthful of sour milk here and there over the course of my life, I've never encountered truly rank food. Also, I realize that my definition of "bad" doesn't necessarily jive with other people's. Take moldy bread...at what point is it really moldy? One spot, an entire crust edge, or full-green fuzz-front-to-back? Some people (Herb) are content to cut off a bit of mold (it's just a little penicillin! Won't hurt ya!) and pop the slice into the toaster - no harm, now foul. No, foul. If there's the vague idea of mold on one piece of bread in the package, I take it as a sign that it's been around too long and out it all goes. I'm a bit more lenient with fruit...I will pick out the moldy berries and keep the clean ones, I'll cut a yucky bruise out of an apple, but honestly, I don't like to.

Just a minute ago, I threw away what might have been a perfectly good package of chicken thighs, after thawing them overnight in the fridge because when I sniffed really really close, they smelled weird. Or maybe they just smelled like raw chicken. I'm not sure, but they've been in the freezer since January and I just don't know, so out they went.

The truth is, I have no idea how to deal with frozen food in general and I have an illogical repulsion of it. I keep trying to get over it (hence the package of frozen chicken thighs) but I can't. Here's a horrifying confession:

Just before I went back to work fulltime, when Loki was a little over a year old, I went and did that Supper Solved thing where you make all these great meals all at once and then freeze them and you have dinner for the month. It's brilliant...really it is. The meals are tasty and healthy and I fully endorse this concept as a fabulous solution for working families who still want to eat a homecooked meal together every night. I went with the best intentions. And it worked for a little while. But then, you know, I'd forget to thaw it the night before or it would take too long in the oven. Really though, I stopped wanting to make them because I stopped wanting to eat them. Frozen food looks gross, like a dead thing. And it feels gross, like a brick. It doesn't have a scent, which makes me not trust it.

So they sat, these meals (lots of them), in my freezer for months and months and months and finally, just before Nate was born - in my hormone-induced nesting frenzy - I decided that they had to leave; I could not go on another day with them in my freezer.

But I didn't throw them away. No. I didn't. I have a friend, who has a friend, who will eat anything. A single guy who lives alone and works long late hours...the kind who will eat whatever is in the take-out container in the back of the fridge and then ask "I wonder if this is left-over lasagna or curry? Oh well." So, since it was the height of winter, I piled all these wonderful meals into a bag and left them on my front steps and this guy happily swooped them up. "Free food - you guys rock!" Well, he did me a much bigger favour than I did him.

Shame, oh the shame (and guilty relief) at throwing away tubs of leftover noodles, vines full of shrivelled grapes, potatoes building their own ecosystem in the cabinet under the counter. I try to avoid the inevitable by cooking proper portions, buying things in smaller sizes that I know we can finish (like the farmer's loaf of bread - perfect for 4 days!) It means going to market every day or other day for dinner items, but that's something I enjoy. Unfortunately, it is probably an unsustainable lifestyle. Once my mat leave is up and I'm back at work, we'll have to figure out something else. We'll have to figure out a whole mess of something elses, but that's another post.

For now, I eat and cook the way I like best - with fresh ingredients bought today or yesterday or maybe, possibly, the day before. And I am deeply grateful and appreciative that I have this luxury. I realize that it is an unusually privileged life that allows me even to consider the option of throwing food away. I know I am giving into my worst self when I do. Which is why I ate two-thirds of a cup of stale Oatmeal Crisp cereal for breakfast this morning. But now, I have to go buy fresh chicken thighs for dinner. Afterall, my whole family dying of salmonella won't really make the world a better place either.

Tonight's Dinner:

- "Sticky Chicken" - from Annabell's Fussy Eaters book, so far the recipes have been a hit

- Corn on the cob

- Caesar Salad