We’re home! It’s been a long three weeks cleaning up after our tenant and getting back to normal life.
As I fill my own fridge and pantry, I’m reminded of a senior friend who once told me, “Look inside the fridge of the guy you plan to live with.” Lol.
I've never forgotten that advice. There really is something fascinating about the contents of other people's refrigerators.
Some are packed. Some are almost empty. Some contain twelve condiments, half a carton of milk and very little that could actually become dinner.
Others seem to contain everything.
Tomatoes. Cucumbers. Garlic. Onions. Eggs. Cheese. Fruit. Leftovers tucked into containers.
Nothing particularly extravagant.
Just... abundance.
I think our refrigerators quietly reveal something about how we live.
For some people, a full refrigerator is comfort. For others, it's about being expansive — the confidence that a few basic ingredients can become a fabulous meal.
A few cloves of garlic and olive oil become garlic confit. Mushrooms, breadcrumbs and an air fryer become a side dish. A few fresh tomatoes, grilled and served warm, become a treat.
Eggs become almost anything. Yesterday's chicken becomes something entirely different today.
Expansive, not expensive.
We are sore and exhausted from cleaning and repairs. I’ve made so many simple meals these past three weeks.
Yet there is something very gratifying about settling down with garlic confit and toast because that's all we have, and a glass of wine.
Other refrigerators are deliberately sparse. Buy what you need. Eat what you buy. If dinner runs out, there's always peanut butter.
Refrigerators reveal stages of life too.
A busy family's refrigerator looks different from a college student's. The refrigerator of someone older and living alone might slowly fill with smaller portions and easier things: fruit cups, single servings, TV dinners, a few favorite staples.
Life changes. So do the contents of the refrigerator.
Perhaps that's what I find so interesting about them. Like bookshelves and grocery carts, refrigerators become accidental little biographies.
Not of who we want people to think we are.
Just how we're getting through the week.
More soon.