Counting Down the Days

May 17: A Fridge

There are different tiers of leftovers in your fridge. 

The lowest tier are those leftovers which are best not left at all. 

These are the watery zucchinis, the scrambled eggs, the lumpy grits. 

The things that, with some effort may be revived, 

but usually sit sadly in their Tupperwares and beg for death. 

Next are those homeless  side dishes,

the ones that were once part of a meal, but now sit forlorn and abandoned. 

The pot roast is long gone, the broccoli devoured.

But see! What remains? A tub of mashed potatoes?

You can't eat plain mashed potatoes for lunch. 

So back into the fridge it goes, where it will sit: uneaten. 

Along come those leftovers which are Really Not Too Bad,

the minimum-wage workers.

These are the soups, the pastas, the stir-fries. 

They're nothing special, but they get the job done

They will taste just about the same as they did the night before;

just put them in the microwave and all will be well. 

And here we move into the more delightful dishes;

for parading around the corner are the teriyakis.

Heat them up and put them in a sandwich with mayonnaise and lettuce? 

Not exactly a leftover, per se, but excellent nonetheless.

Finally, the crown jewels of leftovers make their appearance. 

They shake hands with the teriyakis, and ask them about their day.

The teriyakis answer with humble respect.

They nod to the soups and pastas, for they do their job honestly and well. 

They smile sadly at the mashed potatoes, for they know the fate that awaits them. 

They ignore grits and eggs, which cower at their feet. 

For these are the beef stews, the curries, the chilis, 

those leftovers whose flavors mature with time, 

whose meats grow more tender and sauce more savory. 

These dishes boast no lofty ingredients or decedent tastes. 

They they are simple folk, born and made to serve,

true leaders of the people.