The Ritual of Cleaning
Once a month, I clean the fridge like I’m preparing for a surprise health inspection.
Not the casual swipe-and-scoot. I mean drawers out, shelves scrubbed, condiments judged, expiration dates interrogated. It’s a solo job. No one else is allowed. Not because I’m territorial (okay, maybe a little), but because I actually enjoy it.
It’s one of the few chores that makes me feel like I have a grip on something. And in the middle of clearing shelves and tossing leftovers, I always end up learning something about more than food. These fridge clean-out lessons stick with me: what to keep, what to let go, and what scraps still have life in them.
Food waste genuinely bothers me.
I plan meals pretty tightly so there’s nothing left at the end of the night. But every now and then, a bag of Boar’s Head ham dies a slow, quiet death in the deli drawer. I feel bad until I remember that Misa (our dog) considers it a culinary gift from the heavens.
Silver lining. Ham heaven. Everyone wins.
The Things Left Behind
We usually keep our fridge pretty clean—unless we’ve hosted people or had one of those why did we buy this many groceries? weeks. Even then, the clean-out never fails to reveal something strange.
Most recently: a jar of blueberry bourbon pecan jam. No date. No memory of it. There are two of us in this house, and neither of us bought it. I’m convinced the jam elves left it as a test of faith. Or maybe flavor.
Meals Made from Scraps
Frittatas are one of the best ways to use odds and ends — Bon Appétit’s “Use-It-Up Frittata” shows how even the smallest fridge leftovers can become something delicious. I’ve made plenty of great breakfasts and brunches this way.
One of mine came from half a green bell pepper, a quarter of a soft Vidalia onion, the last of some black beans, a scoop of dying tomatoes, garlic powder, and a handful of whatever cheese was still clinging to life in the dairy zone.
The result? Something cozy and weirdly impressive. Like a dish a tired grandmother in Tuscany might make for you if you showed up unannounced. With wine.
(See also: The Imperfect Dinner Party — because sometimes the best meals come from scraps and a little chaos.)
What Needs Tossing (Besides Food)
Lately, I’ve been thinking about how much we carry that we don’t need.
Not just the wilted parsley shoved in the back corner, but expectations. Of friends. Of how things should’ve gone. Leave that stuff too long, and it starts to rot. And honestly? It stinks worse than old cooked chicken in Tupperware.
So maybe I clean out the fridge once a month. But every now and then, I clear out the stories I tell myself, too. I make space. I get honest.
Letting Go of the Mystery Jam
Like that jar of blueberry bourbon pecan jam. Just sitting there, no date label, no memory of how it got in the fridge. Staring at me like, “You remember me.”
I didn’t. And that’s fine.
I forgive people for not showing up.
I forgive myself for buying two bottles of soy sauce.
And if I find mystery jam with amnesia? I smile and toss it.
