If there ever was a discussion more fraught with angst and frustration in our household, it’s about chickens.
I’d say that I’m a bit thrifty when it comes to food. I touched on it briefly in my post about smart tactics for the kitchen, but truly, when it comes to throwing away perfectly good food, I just can’t do it. This of course doesn’t mean that I keep old food long past its prime. I’m a chucker once things run their course. But good food, perfectly usable? That’s a different story.
So our freezer is where good food goes to die. If there’s a leftover dish that we know we can’t eat because we’re out of town or we’ve eaten it for two days straight, into the freezer it goes. Baguettes that were accidentally left out overnight? Freezer. And best of all, a chicken carcass or two, you know the drill.
The problem is that we live in New York City, so as much as I’d love to have a second freezer for all of my left over food, it ain’t gonna happen.
Our freezer runs out of space quickly, which results in chicken carcasses (carcii?) taking over whatever available space we have.
So we argue about bird bones.
Rodney, clearing the remains from a rotisserie chicken: “Are you done with this?”
Me: “I’m going to make a stock with it, stick it in the freezer.”
Rodney: “We have 10 chickens in the freezer already.”
Me: “Put it in that little space where the ice comes out.”
Rodney: “You’re going to break the ice cube tray if you do that.”
Me: “That’s fine, I don’t use that thing.”
And truly, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I didn’t have ice cubes. For my Scotch-drinking husband, this is tantamount to losing power.
So the arguments continue: fresh stock vs. a broken fridge.
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