I’ve never really been a big fan of leftovers.

I’m not sure why that is, but during my formative pre-divorce years, I don’t recall my family ever really eating them.  However, I remember surprisingly little from that period of my life.

Once I started living with my Dad though, leftovers became more frequent, but were usually transformed into something unrecognizable from the original meal.  Extra roasted chicken would morph into chicken a la king.  Oodles of spaghetti sauce became the basis for some seriously sloppy joes.  An abundance of mashed potatoes could either be combined to create fishcakes or the crust for a personal nemesis (shepherd’s pie).  Even though he had a penchant for scorching food and would probably be the first to admit that he wasn’t a very good cook, my Dad always managed to put enough creative energy into feeding us to ensure that nothing was ever wasted, yet our tastebuds wouldn’t be bored.

And yet somehow, over the years I’ve still only occasionally bothered to reinvent my leftovers into new meals.  More often than not I only cook enough for the Everyman and I, or when I’m cooking something slightly larger (like soups, beans or lasagnas) I just freeze the rest until I feel like eating it again.  It doesn’t really help that I don’t care for the taste of meat once it’s cooled (particularly poultry) which is a quirk I cannot explain but developed when I was a small child.  As best I can describe it, the food tastes like “fridge” to me after it’s cold and has always held little to no appeal for revisiting afterwards.  Inevitably, it just ends up hanging out at the back of the fridge until I remember to throw it out.

But obviously that’s wasteful, not to mention incredibly stupid.

So, this past week I decided to give it another go.

On night one, I roasted off a quartet of quail marinated in a pomegranate, shallot, mint and loomis (dried lime) sauce; a rare treat that I hardly ever bother to prepare at home, yet when I do I can never remember why I don’t do it more often.  Our smaller than usual appetites left me with 2 untouched quails, and even though they were on sale at The Healthy Butcher for $5 a pair, I vowed not to toss them and instead packed them into the fridge with their accompanying side; a braised dish of brussels sprouts, beer and bacon.  The brussels sprouts were easy enough to re-dish, and made their way into a lunch bag as a side for a few slices of greasy pizza to appease my health concerns a smidgen.  But for almost 5 days afterwards, the quails sat in the fridge, taunting me.

What could I do with them?  Would I even be able to eat them?  How much longer did I have before they passed the point of no return?

I didn’t wait to find out.  On the 5th night I decided to use the quail in an old risotto dish that I loved – one that’s typically made with roasted chicken.  Having recently changed the Everyman’s mind about there being good risotto in the world, I was more than happy to break the nearly 5 year moratorium on it at home for just such an occasion.  For good measure, I also tossed a leftover condiment of candy apple onions into the fray and allowed them to meld with the risotto’s existing caramelized balsamic onions, literally killing 2 leftovers with 1 stone.

Unsurprisingly, the risotto was exquisite.  It tasted nothing like the original meal, and did not have the lingering taste of fridge on it (to me) either.  And, it was so well received by the Everyman that he’s actually looking forward to taking it in for his lunch, too.

I’d say that’s definitely a mission accomplished.  Perhaps I’m getting the hang of this leftover thing, after all.  And maybe now I’ll make quail more often!

Until next time…