March 20. Left-overs galore. What's in Naomi's Refrigerator?

Another day of splendid left-overs.
Had a proper breakfast--fried eggs with black beans and for lunch, I added some of those beans to the left-over chicken vegetable soup--and ate it with a cheese quesadilla--again--a proper enough meal.
For dinner I was happy to keep up the re-cycling and made a hash (never quite sure what a hash is) of sauteed onions, left-over steak, potatoes, beans and curiously enough rice.  I would not hesitate to have shared this meal--but I'm not going to honor it with a recipe (or even a picture).  Nonetheless, these meals were a treat, testament I suppose to the excellence of the original meals which generated them.
Perhaps on this day of little cooking and no guests, it is the moment to recount a not-so-recent dinner  that inspired me to start re-thinking how I could cook more often for others.
For decades a good portion of my life was devoted to cooking for my family.

Now, I live alone, with a splendid kitchen and a relatively peripatetic life.  Unless I send out bulletins (certainly possible in these social media times, but I’m a fairly late adaptor), most people don’t know where I am.  Unless I am very pro-active, and regularly invite people for dinner, I usually eat alone.

Usually this is just fine.  Quick, easy, no need to clean the house—and ok to read while dining. 

Nonetheless, there are those moments when I’ve made something particularly delicious or have a fridge full of leftovers, or even long for a bit of conversation, I find myself wishing for a guest or two. 

In my habitual explorations of all sorts of food shopping venues-—farmers’ markets, Persian butcher/grocery store combos, Mexican bodegas and supermarkets, Chinese groceries, Indian spice stores, as well as old stand-bys—Ralph’s, Vons, Smart and Final, Costco and the wondrous 99¢ store with its pricey neighbor Whole Foods, I often wish that I were planning some grand soiree or catered event.  Why don’t I just have dinner parties—I could go to all the stores, be inspired to shop for multitudes, organize a grand meal and enjoy all the usual rewards.

Truth is—I much prefer the abridged version.  I am quite happy to forego all the planning (the shopping I seem to do, plan or not), and when called upon—preferably with very short notice-- dig into refrigerator and cupboard to excavate a meal.

The benefits are obvious (at least to me).  No expectations.  No promises to meet.  No goals to fulfill.   I most enjoy un-expected visitors.  Not so usual, but they do occasionally appear, inspiring me to conjure a meal with whatever is at hand— leftovers, aging vegetables  (one of the pit-falls of cooking for one is over-buying at the farmers market)—or the cans in the cupboard.   Most people are delighted to have anyone prepare any kind of food for them---and the pleasure only increases when you factor in surprise.  

One dark, chill and rainy night in March, my friend and neighbor Lisa, who with her husband Garfield, often invites me for an impromptu dinner, called. 

“Have you eaten?” she asked.  As a matter of fact I had.  But Lisa was not inviting me for dinner.

“I’ve been home all day and am desperately craving a hamburger,” she continued.  I had not only eaten, but uncharacteristically had cleaned the kitchen and the dishwasher—it takes a single person some time to accumulate a full load of dirty dishes---was actually going through its paces.

During this particular cold and rainy period, I too had wanted some heavy-duty protein and had made myself a hamburger.  Following my usual procedure, I actually made four hamburgers, and at this very moment, the purring refrigerator, adjacent to that busy dishwasher, contained three not-quite-chilled little hamburgers.  Knowing that  Lisa was probably thinking of the thick caramelized onion and blue cheese smothered burger at Father’s Office, I proposed that she eat my leftovers instead.  I didn’t have proper hamburger rolls, nor did I have bacon—perhaps my patties would not abate Lisa’s cravings.

What was I thinking?  Of course Lisa chose the home-made option. As she wended her way over, I quickly sautéed some onions and mushrooms, and sliced some avocado and blue cheese.

She was of course delighted with this impromptu meal.  It was quick, delicious and surprising. 

Could this be the model?  I could suggest to friends that whenever

What's inside?

they don’t feel like cooking or stepping out for a meal, they could give me a call and see if there’s anything in my refrigerator that would fill the bill.  I’d get to rummage and cook—they’d get a meal.

Problems instantly crop up.  The most obvious is that nowadays (as opposed to those long ago times when guests miraculously dropped in just as I was putting dinner on the table) most people are a little wary about calling up and inviting themselves for dinner.  If that is the case, I suggest the subterfuge solution.  “You can always call,” I say, "and propose an early afternoon walk to be followed by a quick bite at a restaurant.  I will then suggest that we could take a walk, and then cook up  

Uh-oh...

an impromptu meal at my house." And if they'd like they could bring something from their own refrigerator.  Or from Whole Foods.   Many variations possible.    We will have to wait and see.

In recent days, due to extreme shopping with no refrigerator organization, chaos reigns  on those drip-less glass shelves.  There is usually a bit more breathing room, but this is the packed fridge from which many meals will spring.