I was cleaning out our basement freezer to see if I could make room for leftovers when I pulled out a bag from the bottom that said “Turkey 11/25.” I’m guessing these are not leftovers sent to us by the Ghost of Thanksgiving Future, but my Sharpie scribble didn’t give me the confidence that these were last year’s leftovers either. Especially since I excavated a bag of mixed vegetables near the turkey with a “best by” date from 2021. There were a few other relics in cryptic plastic bags tucked in the far corners as I hung over the mouth of the freezer like I was dumpster diving, pulling them into the light for examination. A bag of rigatoni with meat sauce that may or may not still be edible, depending on how long foods last past their “sell by” date. A crunchy plastic-wrapped ball of what looks like red berries covered in frost. Festive, yes. Delicious, probably not. From when? No idea.
We bought this freezer in the early days of the pandemic, determined to stock up on everything we were sure would no longer be available in the months ahead. I did like the idea of having a miniature version of Fry’s frozen food section in our basement – waffles, meatballs, ice cream, hamburgers – all the important food groups. We thought about creating a schematic of what was in there and expiration dates but never got around to being that organized. Instead, I’d drag home five bags of frozen mixed vegetables because they were on sale and I knew I had a big freezer now. I’d haul them to the basement and drop them on top of the half-eaten Danish almond kringle we bought at Trader Joe’s a few months back, the kind with a shamefully delicious amount of butter and frosting that should probably be eaten slowly and not devoured by two people over one weekend. Off it went in a freezer bag for future indulgences. And there was the rhubarb the neighbor gave us. I planned to make strawberry-rhubarb crumble bars but got busy with weekend projects. Another freezer bag. Healthy sprouted bread on sale at Safeway? Freezer bag.
We didn’t have a standalone freezer when I was a kid, just the one that came with the fridge. I don’t remember us keeping a lot of food in there either. Ice cubes of course. The kind in the blue tray that eventually cracked after many years of twisting it to pop the cubes out. Raspberry freezer jam made from the summer’s bumper crop of berries. Maybe a pizza. Sometimes, there would be a couple of Swanson’s frozen dinners, a rare treat in our family. Those were saved for special occasions like a babysitter coming over, or getting to eat in front of the TV because “The Wizard of Oz” or “Sound of Music” was on, back in the days before VHS players.
Last week, after I brought another load downstairs, the freezer lid wouldn’t close without shifting things around. All my good intentions — to make shepherd’s pies with ground turkey and mixed vegetables, or start my day with a healthy smoothie made from the bags of frozen fruit I’d bought–had not happened. Instead, we ate the way we always do, using the food in the refrigerator and freezer upstairs, conveniently located in the kitchen, instead of the oh-so-faraway basement, where I have to put shoes on, climb an unwieldy step carved into the dirt room floor, find the light switch, avoid the spider webs and check the mouse traps before digging out a bag or two of something to cook. Did I mention the breadcrumb trail I leave behind so I can safely find my way back to the kitchen upstairs?
But I’m not giving up on the freezer yet. We are coming up on the season of resolutions, so I will make this one early. I resolve to use all the frozen vegetables and meat we have in the basement before I buy any more. Plus, it’s soup season and nothing tastes better than homemade soup on a cold day. Whether it’s on the stove, in a crockpot or a pressure cooker (I have all three, so no excuses), I love a good chicken chili or a split pea and ham soup. And I’m pretty sure I have all the ingredients. Plus, there’s some leftover turkey from Thanksgiving. But not the mysterious bag that says 11/25 on it. I’m feeding that to the garbage can.