Louisa May Alcott reminded us what Thanksgiving is all about.
November 25, 2011
Our annual ode to leftovers if you have any strength left over to read it.
The great George Carlin on the subject:
"Leftovers make you feel good twice. First, when you put it away, you feel thrifty and intelligent: ‘I’m saving food!’ Then a month later when blue hair is growing out of the ham, and you throw it away, you feel really intelligent: ‘I’m saving my life!’"
The ancient Greeks and Romans hauled ice and snow down from mountains, dug pits in the ground, insulated their catch in straw and buried it in cellars.
Egyptians filled earthen jars with boiling water and put them on their roofs, exposing leftovers to the cool cold air.
By the end of the 19th century in America, ice deliverymen were as popular as milkmen, depositing large cubes into iceboxes.
Significant events made leftovers even easier to keep.
Earl S. Tupper launched Tupperware in the 1940s.
Saran Wrap in 1953 almost sealed the deal.
Ziploc storage bags, in 1968, made it a virtual lock that no morsel you had a day, or even a week before, would ever be thrown away.
With the advent of microwaves, in the 1970s, you couldn't tell leftovers from the meal you had the night before.
So what to do with all that good stuff that’s been in your refrigerator all night?
There are two basic schools of leftover thought:
Heat it all up and have the same meal you had last night, minus the life discussions.
Let whatever's left live over again in a gumbo, a chow mein, an ala King, a hash, a curry, or any number of inventive concoctions.
Then again, there’s nothing like a turkey or ham between two slices of bread, or six, and a dab of mayo.
Happy Day After.
We will return to our regular programming next week.