You know how it goes.
You cook a big Spag Bol, or a curry… Sunday dinner.
There’s always a little bit left.
Sometimes it’s a little short of being a main meal, the dog is looking hopeful.
Instead you reach for the cupboard, out comes the generic,non-branded, plastic pot.
If your leftovers are lucky they go into the freezer, only to emerge at a moment of hungry desperation.
That’s partly because after a couple of days in the freezer, unless something has been labelled, it’s very hard to tell what it is.
Red could be anything from beef stew to chilli, yellow korma or cheese sauce.
No matter what you defrost, you’re bound to have cooked the wrong thing to go with it – rice with your Arrabiata and all that whatnot.
If the food is unlucky it goes into the fridge, in what I’ve decided should be branded the zone of uncertainty.
If the offending foodstuff is on the shelf for 24 hours or less there’s hope.
Tasty morsels get snapped up for a quick lunch or, after a night of ale quaffing, a midnight snack.
The rest, well, that’s abandoned – doomed to wait until the next big fridge clearout.
On the last occasion that happened in the Stocks fridge the results were alarming.
Two tubs of week-old dinner, and a Sunday roast – hopeful leftovers left to… well, use your imagination.
It shouldn’t be that way.
I have, after all got a walking dishwasher, a spotty, lolloping Spaniel.
And, you know what, she’s not fussy.
Me, I might walk to the fridge in the morning, take a look at the remnants of last night’s tea and decide a bacon butty is a better plan.
There’s so many reasons not to pluck that tub from the shelf – not least a desperate desire to avoid the same meal two days in a row.
But the dog has none of that, any food is welcome food (except tomatoes which for a bafflingly inexplicable reason are the subject of much nose turning-up)
In the future, forget the zone of uncertainty – that’s where the leftovers are going.