I recently did an inventory of my refrigerator, in an attempt to clear space or consolidate jars. There are members of the family who sincerely believe to leave a container of cream cheese, or sour cream or mayonnaise, with nothing but a quarter of a teaspoon of its original contents, is an act of kindness towards a hungry fellow family member. I disagree.
There are, of course, the odd ingredients, that jar of cornichons someone insisted on buying; the sweet pickled onions for someone else's Gibsons, the glass jars of home-rendered animal fat (I'm sure that sounds disgusting to those who don't do it, let's, however, move on). And then there are the ingredients that I really don't want in the refrigerator at all, but by some kind of family devotion I don't throw them out. Like, ajvar. There, I said it. An eastern European concoction of red peppers and perhaps some tomatoes and a dash of spice. Bleck. In fact, I resent its mere presence.
What's hiding in your fridge? And, no, I don't mean the containers turning putrid colors with the seasons. What have you secreted away, comestibly speaking, that is? Don't tell anyone, but I have a serving of chocolate pudding, cunningly hidden behind the container of basil.
