We don’t waste much in the way of food at The Compound. I try to cook only the amounts I know we’ll eat. Tom’s great about eating leftovers for his weekend lunches. And any veggies that are left over go right into a container in the freezer to reappear later in soups. I also freeze meat drippings and juices so I rarely have to buy beef stock or chicken broth.
Still, from time to time, I do have to throw out food, and EVERY SINGLE TIME, that action is accompanied by guilt and the sound of my mother’s voice in my head saying, “Waste not, want not.”
When we moved Mother into her 24-hour care home in 2008, I was able to absorb most of her pantry into my own, and everything was used. Except I adopted a box of grits. Nobody here likes grits the way I do, and I don’t eat them often, so I rarely grabbed that box to make a single serving for myself.
At last, today, I boiled the remaining grits to add to my Thursday breakfast. As I was throwing the box into the recycle bag, I glanced at the “best by” date on the top.
Good grief: Does that mean 2003 or 2010? Either way, Mother would be so proud.