It’s not often your freezer sends you a strong philosophical message but this week, mine did.
To clarify, my freezer is a big part of my life. I enjoy cooking and like eating home-made food as far as possible. This, however, needs to be constantly balanced against my freakishly muscular lazy streak (you may have heard me mention this once or twice). When working, I learned to deal with this by cooking industrial quantities of soups and stews once a week, and freezing these in lots of little portions to keep me in wholesome grub.
During this work-free period, you’d imagine that with plenty of time to cook, I’d be savouring the experience, putting on my most figure-hugging top and doing a Nigella, cooking tasty and varied meals every day from scratch. And you’d be right – I am cooking most days, only I’m still doing it in the same Hogwarts banquet portions as before. In this way, I’ve inadvertently stockpiled enough food in my freezer to see me through till I start working again. Have I been feeling smug at my careful and frugal food arrangements? You betcha.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I went into the freezer yesterday to get out one of the many tubs for lunch. So jam packed with goodness was the freezer that one of them (the kohlrabi soup, seeing as you ask) fell out onto the floor. I bent down to pick it up and, as I stood up, gently nudged the still-open freezer door from underneath with my back. You’ll share my wonder when I tell you that this clinical nudge, as carefully and gently placed as a ninja death-poke, knocked the freezer door clean off its hinges. If I hadn’t spent at least two incredulous minutes staring at the liberated freezer door, which had leapt from its moorings with quite stunning vigour, lying on the floor in front of me, I would not have believed this possible.
So now I’m eating my way feverishly through my slowly defrosting larder, my freezer door is wedged shut by an ironing board while I try to figure out what to do about it, and that corner of the kitchen is just a wee bit colder. And I know now that you can plan, and you can organise and that’s all good, but you just can’t ever be certain your lunch’ll defrost in quite the way you imagined. Me, I blame the kohlrabi.