Refrigerator Casserole

It's 1:00 on a lazy Saturday. A VERY lazy Saturday, because I am still in my pajamas. And hungry.  I assess the contents of the refrigerator and make a mental note: Go grocery shopping today. There is nothing in there but lonesome scraps. That's okay, I can always forge a meal from scraps. It's one of my personal talents.

There was half of a raw onion, Cool Whip, 10 day old steamed broccoli, Greek yogurt, jam, assorted cheese and a thousand condiments (Marty has a condiment problem). And there were the chicken tidbits I picked out of my Trader Joe garlic udon noodles earlier in the week. (There was too much chicken; I am mostly into the noodles.)  Bingo! I will make chicken noodles. With broccoli and cheese and a random condiment. Everything is good with noodles.

Before

I microwaved the chicken and broccoli, boiled some linguine, and mixed it all together with parmesan and maple chipotle finishing sauce that is no less than 3 years old.

After

I can't let anything spoil because I can't throw food away. I can't. It's a neurosis. An illness. My hard-wiring. I was brought up this way.  My mom's people were resourceful Mennonite farmers and to waste is to sin. I cannot sin in the kitchen. Anywhere else I'm okay to sin galore, but I CANNOT THROW AWAY FOOD!

Many times I catch myself calculating the age of leftovers and determining when I need to eat them before they mold or transform into a liquid. Marty will watch me settle down in front of a microwaved plate of two week old lasagna with a side of last week's spinach fritatta. He calls these combos and creations Refrigerator Casserole, and he does not partake.  He will say, offended by my delicacies, "Does that even TASTE good?" Sometimes, no, but that's not the point. He doesn't get it.  Very few people do.  And I've never had food poisoning either (except for the time I made my own oyster stew).

Was today's Refrigerator Casserole tasty?  Maybe not, but my dessert of Cool Whip and chocolate chips was scrumptious.