I cleaned out my refrigerator today. Now, for most people, I realize this is a mundane task, hardly worth mentioning. However, for me, the fridge is always an adventure and a stroll down my gastronomical memory lane.
You see, I'm not a domestic goddess by any stretch of the imagination. I have no one to blame but myself. I know how to clean, I just choose...not to. Or, perhaps more accurately, I choose to do other things. So, when I do decide to clean, it's usually a marathon event. And the refrigerator is no exception.
I always clean the fridge when the husband is away. My husband is many things but able to stand bad smells is not one of them. And because I wait so long to get this done, there are always some unforgettable smells. You see, I have good intentions. I store leftovers in ready-to-eat portions for the husband's lunch or for mine. But then I forget. And the leftovers languish. And then when I'm cleaning, I think "that sure was good stir fry...last month," or "once upon a time that juice would have been good but it expired...in February," or "I remember those mints I made...at Christmas." You see?
This time I found old roasted pork loin that had created lovely colonies of mold, chicken and peanut butter soup that we loved the first time around (seriously!) but was pretty pungent now, 4 partially used pints of sour cream, those Christmas mints, multiple bottles of salad dressing with less than an inch left in them, and 6 assorted containers of hummus, most still edible. Oh, and two open packages of whole wheat tortillas and two unopened containers of whipped cream as well as multiple small plastic containers of who knows what leftover from who knows when.
See? An adventure!