Leftovers, man. I'm the queen of 'em. But there comes a time in every leftover's life where it's just gotsta go. I did it today. I finished the largest-tupperware-dish-I-own of leftovers, and I'm overly pleased about it. Please enough to blog.
You're welcome, Darci Owens.
You see, about two weeks ago (closer to three, but I'm pretending to have food safety standards here), I needed space in my freezer for ice cream. The tiny freezer was full. I needed the ice cream. I took out TWO PACKAGES of beef to make room for the ice cream.
Then somehow those two packages of beef turned two bottomless bowls of seriously thick, meaty meals that just. never. end. Why is this so hard for me? Why do I still cook meals as if the lifeblood, energy and productivity of an entire farm family depends on the heartiness of my mid-western cooking? I AM ONE PERSON. One person who has literally eaten unstuffed cabbage skillet (which is mid-western delicious, for the record) or hearty beef stew for up to three meals a day for the past two-plus weeks in order to achieve this great victory of an empty tupperware dish. No joke; cabbage or beef stew for breakfast. Lunch. Afternoon snack. Dinner.
Or ice cream.
Granted, I've had short breaks where I left town for work, got a breath of fresh culinary air, then returned home with hopes of finding mold in this dish so I could excuse it away. But alas, apparently cabbage is a survivor. And so. am. I.
Also, I've been writing a story about soil health today, which makes my brain hurt a little. So, ya. VICTORY IS MINE, LEFTOVERS.
It's the little things, people.