I’ve written previously of The Bride’s finicky eating habits. For the most part we’ve resolved these differences.
I eat anything. Anything. I see any food as good if you find a good way to prepare it or pair it. Even my least favorite food, raisins, I’ve learned to like in certain things. The Bride simply doesn’t like a lot of things no matter what you do with them, like onions and fish, which really cramps my style.
Cramped style or not, we manage… with one notable exception: leftovers.
I’m ridiculously neurotic about waste. Waste pains me. It pains me so much that if you go back through my blogs, the longest, ranting, neurotic-filled posts fall under the category of “Thou Shalt Not Waste.”
The Bride could care less. Before we married she thought a doggie bag was a designer purse for poodles. And all these years together has done very little to help us cross the deep, deep divide.
To be fair, all the movement… all of it… has been hers. I’m more nutty about waste now than I used to be. Much worse. She’s become very conscientious and aware in many areas of waste. But the gap remains, particularly around food.
Try as she might, that girl just doesn’t like leftovers. I can’t imagine not eating them. You eat a great dinner and, thrill of thrills, you know you can have it again for lunch real soon! This is largely why I eat lunch alone most days.
So what do I do? I hide the leftovers. Just like when our kids were little. I sneak in the things she won’t eat.
For awhile the Bride was catching on… and starting dubiously cutting into many “fresh” dinners looking for stealth leftovers. Eventually I think she figured out that if she kept pushing this she ran a real risk of starvation. She’s less inquisitive these days. As I said, all the movement on this issue is hers. It is one area I’m oddly, weirdly, rarely, intractable. I don’t even know why, but it’s beyond me.
The one upside in this whole thing is I’ve gotten really really good at hiding leftovers. Whatever I cook one day, gets a new outfit of pasta or rice or tortillas the next day, all dressed up and looking brand new. Steak one day is fajitas the next. Chicken breast becomes chicken stir fry becomes chicken salad. Leftovers aren’t static, they evolve.
And you know what… some really good shit results.
An experimental coffee pizza soon became coffee-flavored chicken, which ended up in a pasta lunch. Three meals from one experimental sauce. I look back at that one fondly.
Let me ask you, Does this look like leftovers to you?
Well, the pasta was extra from a big plate of Alfredo. I tossed it in the freezer. The vegetables were the ones not used the day before in a stir-fry. I needed a quickie meal. Poof… pasta primavera.
The Bride loved it and never suspected the pasta was leftover.
I call that progress.