By KAREN MADORIN
I don’t know about other folks, but I freeze leftovers with the confidence of a Batman cape-wearing two-year-old, convinced she can fly. Certain I will remember exactly what I put in each container, I store it intending imminent use. Some are already laughing because they know how this tale ends.
Recently, I experienced two deepfreeze-related events that suggest I must change my ways. One involved overfilling an upright freezer so the door didn’t close all the way after I hurriedly retrieved ice cream bars for grandkids playing in the sun.
I knew an issue was imminent because I struggled to find treasure buried in those depths. I soothed my concerns with the mantra “I’ll do it when I have time.” That trainwreck evolved into an emergency late-night reorganization. This involved using a friend’s freezer to ensure that yet-unfrozen items remained frigid solids, followed by an early dump run to unload unsalvageable food. The positive side--our freezer’s innards look like Mary Poppins visited and put the world in proper order! No more overflow.
The other crisis wasn’t nearly so dramatic, wasteful, or time-consuming, but it reveals a flawed conviction that I’ll remember what I store and where I place it. Plus, it stresses a long-suffering husband. Though I love to cook, summer is not my favorite season to regularly produce meals. Using frozen leftovers effectively could solve this dilemma.
Back to the predicament. I made a huge batch of sloppy joe mix. With only two stomachs, we couldn’t eat it all so I bagged and froze half the batch. Coincidentally, I stirred up spaghetti sauce within a week of those sloppy joes. Once again, overabundance meant packaging some for a nap in the deep freeze. Logical folks will say, “Did you label and date it?” Recall that 2-year-old wearing the Batman cape—she’d remember.
As I recently completed morning chores, I thought, this is a great spaghetti day. I told my spouse, who loves this dish, that I’d defrost sauce and add pasta, salad, and air-fryer garlic bread for supper. We both looked forward to a favorite meal that didn’t overheat the house.
The bag out of the freezer looked perfect—lotsa crumbled meat and tomatoey sauce. Easy peasy. As it reheated, divine Italian herb scents didn’t tease my olfactory sense, which I attributed to summer allergies. Once spooned over pasta boiled to perfection, it looked divine.
After the first bite, I realized I thawed sloppy joe mix. Should I say something or let my beloved companion of 49 years figure this out? Silence reigned.
Interestingly, he didn’t utter a word. We ate til we created what a friend calls happy plates. Nothing remained but dabs of sauce, salad dressing, and breadcrumbs. As we put dishes in the sink for the evening clean-up, I wondered if he preferred his spaghetti this way now. He practiced veteran husband tact with a casual, “Was that your usual sauce?”
My laughter raised his eyebrows. “Um. No. That was sloppy joe mix that looks like spaghetti sauce when frozen.” He could’ve questioned further, but chose wisely.
Needless to say, I’ll improve labeling and storage skills involving the freezer. I’m certain the man in my life approves, though he isn’t saying a word.