Today is, brace yourself, ‘clean out your refrigerator day’. We’d never push housework upon anyone, but it seemed an excellent opportunity to peek into our writers’ fridges.
Orange ‘boobee juice’, something that definitely isn’t strawberry and I’ve no idea what’s in the wrapping.
We had an engineer come out to fix our fridge because it smelt gassy. It was some cheese.
“Lav” is probably not what you think it is. My fridge often contains the remnants of various experiments. Here we have a bottle of home brew, a citrus gin and a lavender gin.
Lipstick. Rolls of film. And two shelves of random shit in jars bought from farmers’ markets that have poncey packaging and will never get eaten.
My ex-boyfriend moved house and when he emptied the freezer there were a pair of my trousers in there. I had read somewhere that if you get chewing gum on your clothes you should put them in the freezer then chip it off. I popped them in his freezer and immediately forgot about them. We split up about a year later, and about five years later he found them…
Always at least three items that have gone so mouldy that I can’t face picking them up to throw away (in this instance a beheaded butternut, which pre-photo was hidden behind some Stork).
There’s also some moulding beetroot and a salmon pasta dish rotting away in Tupperware. Six different types of butter/marg. Four cartons of milk. My mum’s secret recipe apple chutney, which looks gross but tastes great. Hummus, so nursery think I’m a good parent. And a solitary beer.
If I showed you a picture, you’d think I lived in a cheesemongers.
Cheese, chorizo, champagne… and space friendly apple crumble? Geeky Sex Fridge…
• Mr Bump cool pack which is my husband’s and he uses it when he is poorly or has been clumsy (you think I’m joking, I’m not).
• Peanut butter for Trevor
• Psoriasis cream
• Varying bits of manky cheese that I refuse to throw away because I can cut the mould off (there won’t be anything left under that)
• Some alcohol-free Brewdog for when I decided I was going to be teetotal (pretty sure this is the most ridiculous thing in there)
• Loads of cheapo Christmas tree chocs that I can’t throw away because it’s chocolate and I will realistically have some kind of emergency at some point that involves my menstrual cycle
• A homemade apple pie
• A bottle of really sweet wine (something expensive to go with desserts that tastes like Haribo and can’t feasibly be enjoyed because it’s ming)
• A small bottle of Moët that came with my engagement ring that I will never drink because I will then think that that means that I don’t revere it enough and then I will cry irrationally
• A bottle of dog ear drops that can never be used again because they are out of date but I will never throw away because I paid 75 fucking pounds for them after the vet convinced me that Trev needed them and I wasn’t neurotic, and that my chemist husband then said were just salt water after he read the packet
• Three half-used packets of butter
• A ball of Aldi essentials mozzarella that expired a month ago
• Oh, and some veg.
I think I need to take this list to my psychiatrist.
Aspirational salad and, sometimes, dog shit samples in the salad crisper. In my parents’ fridge, there was once a jar of jam stuck in so much ice at the back that we named it Han Solo.
Mine always has Diet Coke and celery or cucumber, champagne given to me years ago that has probably gone off but dammit, I can’t drink it until something truly celebratory happens, facial spray and never enough actual real food.
It is nearly the end of the week so there is plenty of wilting veg that I’m going to dish up to the children hidden in a pasta bake tomorrow – and then I’m going to order myself a takeaway.
Vicky Lindsay Warburton
Erm, OK, so I have arranged the tomato purees for the photo to be fair (one dates back to 2015). But the groups of four thing? Clearly relates to me being an only child.
Five open packets of butter. Permanent coriander frozen to the back wall. Extremely old tapenade that I can’t throw away because it’s not mouldy but can’t eat because it’s been open for SO long.
Depends who’s home: when Tom is back, it’s kale, broccoli, 12 chicken breasts, a banana flavoured protein shake and a can of Monster. When Jessie and Matt are home, it’s Dr Pepper, Babybel, Dairylea dunkers, jam, half a homemade carrot cake and raspberry flavour cider. When it’s just me, there’s a lot of salad, potatoes and whatever was left over from the slow cooker the day before. Also, I’ve found my knickers in the salad crisper on more than one occasion.
Here’s mine; it needs a bit of a clean but everything in it is technically ‘food’, I guess. I hesitate to extend that to the jar of beige stuff on the second shelf, as that’s the grated remains of a giant horseradish we discovered growing in the garden and felt obliged to pickle and keep, despite it being horribly gnarled and woody and neither my boyfriend nor I actually liking horseradish at all. It’s been there for about four months now and I expect it to persist well into 2017 before one of us finally throws it out.
Other highlights. Third shelf: the hardened remains of my attempt at making Sarah Ledger’s cheese and chilli bread (tasted lovely, but my version was a bit dense); fourth shelf: some aged but still edible limes from when I had an urge to make mojitos the other week and had to buy a whole bag of them. And in the door: a bar of blackberry-flavoured Ritter chocolate from when I went to Belgium a few weeks ago and discovered that Carrefour sell all kinds of exotic flavours that you can’t get here. We’ve already eaten the one with nutty tortilla chips embedded in it.
I couldn’t find my purse once, and eventually found it in the fridge. Later that day I found a carton of milk in my handbag. If ever anything goes ‘missing’ now, the fridge is the first place I look.
I have lots of nail varnish (in ‘get you into trouble’ red). It makes it thinner so it lasts longer.
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