is having a fridge fest
– she’s invited all foodbloggers to reveal the contents of their refrigerator. (Speaking of Sweetnicks, don’t forget to clickety on over to Paper Palate
because she’s doing a fantabulous job as our editor and we have a bunch of great writers that just joined the team!)
Here’s a look in my fridge…
And the door…
And a peek in the freezer…
The three things I ALWAYS have in my fridge:
. I could eat my own arm if it were amply doused with Sriracha.
2.) Evidently, a small jar of rendered bacon fat. I found it there in the back, I have no recollection of putting it there, but I know I add to it occasionally, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I brought it with me last time we moved. Therefore, I think it’s safe to say it has permanent resident status. (I think my mom has a jar of duck fat, which is WAY cooler, culinarily speaking, but also explains where I learned this hoarding-fat-in-a-jar thing.)
3.) Eggs. I know it’s boring, but you can do just about anything with an egg. The egg serves its best and finest purpose on a ever so slightly hungover Saturday morning when you wake up early and just need a little something easy on the tummy to help get you through till the crossword puzzle arrives at nine and you can start swearing and throwing pencils and feeling like an idiot. It’s there for you when you get home from work at midnight feeling frazzled and in need of comfort and home cooked sustenance. A carton of eggs is a brunch in a box – you can entertain the masses on student’s budget. (And they’re excellent with Sriracha.)
Three things you’ll never find:
1.) Raisins. I hate them.
2.) Prunes. Raisin is to prune as mouse is to (c’mon, think back to those SAT prep courses) the answer is RAT!! Ewwww.
3.) Peeps. Surely you’d never find Peeps in my fridge, stored away for the long, Peepless seasons ahead. Nope, not me, no way. (At least I hope you’ll never find them, because then you’ll try to eat them, and I’ll face a Peepmergency of dire proportions.)
A few things I feel like I need to explain:
You also may have notice that a small herd of veal stock filled Ziplocs is taking over the freezer area. It’s great fun when they stampede out and fall all over my feet each time I open the door. I actually think they might be breeding in there, because I don’t remember making more than a gallon of stock, but I seem to have about 87 quart-size baggies full of it. Either this is a great new business venture or I’m just very bad at math. (One gallon = 128 oz = 4 quarts = 4 baggies, no? Then why so many baggies?)
The Crisco is for seasoning my cast iron pan, I don’t actually use it to cook. (Come to think of it, I could probably just use that damn bacon fat.)
The processed American cheese slices (Can you see them? Maybe not?) and Coke belong to my husband. He has a huge weakness for sugary sodas and grilled cheese with plain old American singles (and bacon). I eat Velveeta mac & cheese
with wine, so who am I to deny him his simple pleasures.
The bottled lemon juice on the door. I am lazy. Sometimes I hand squeeze, sometimes I do not. It tastes pretty darn lemony to me.
The week (or two) old white wine on the door. Yes, it is old. Yes, I cook with it. No, I would not drink it. (Yes, I might drink it if there were to be a beverage emergency, but please keep that secret to yourself.) No, I am not using a $20 bottle of wine to deglaze a pan of chicken drippings. I don’t even spend $20 on wine for my precious little mouth.
I do not keep an organized fridge. I prefer the “dig for surprises” method of cooking – it fosters creativity and eliminates time spent constantly reshelving and rotating. Also, I know I should store my herbs in glasses of water or paper bags or whatever the appropriate receptacle du jour may be, but (see above) I am lazy.
Yes, that is a mini Toblerone on the top shelf. Sometimes I like me some mini Toblerone after dinner, (shameless plug coming up) while I’m reading Paper Palate
(go on, give it a click).