It came from the back of the refrigerator...

You can probably think of a 100 things more fun to do on a Friday evening than what I just did.

I cleaned my refrigerator.

I suppose it is a fitting way to start a blog about cooking and the kitchen, since we can probably all agree that hygiene is good and food poisoning is bad. And as a scrubbed and sanitized my fridge (and my stove), I couldn't help but remember where I picked up this regular habit: my mom.

Whenever mom went on a big shopping trip, one of the ones that fills the cart all the way to the very top and then some--about once a month, she made us help her clean out the fridge before she put all the new food in. For my brothers and I, it was a toss up. We were torn between excitement and dread: finally something to snack on other than cheerios? cleaning out tupperwares of old, moldy leftovers and listening to mom say, "why didn't you eat this? you always complain there is no food in the house! why didn't you eat this?"

For the record, we didn't eat it because 1)it was nasty and 2)we were never that hungry. (Also we probably had no idea it was in there, we really only looked in the cabinets for food. That's where the good stuff was.)

Pretty much the same song and dance, every month, all the years I lived at home. And of course, as I cleaned out my fridge and pulled out tupperwares, I felt the need to chastise someone for the wasted food. Unfortunately the BF was at happy hour, and the cat doesn't eat human food.

So what's left in the fridge? 17 beers, milk, oj, two zucchinis, eggs, assorted condiments, a gallon of olive oil (care of Costco), a chunk of brie, and a failed experiment with cinnamon buns that I couldn't bring myself to throw out yet. I can now wait until next week to say, "why didn't anyone eat these?!"