Freezer Triage and Happy Possums
Once again, our freezer conked out. This morning was spent cleaning a warm fridge. Several pounds of mystery meat and a hoard of freezer-burnt peas went out the door.
The possums are gonna be mighty happy tonight. This afternoon? I'll be exhausting myself cooking about eight pounds of hamburger meat and a pound of sausage. Then we'll have to make room in the deep freeze for the cooked meat.
And let me be clear: my cooking is usually reserved for frozen store-bought pot pies, a toasted bagel, scrambled eggs, and the occasional quiche (once or twice a year).
Otherwise, I just cut and chop as ordered to do so. Granny's the boss of the Pritchett kitchen. DKP is just the lowly sous chef.
But triage is different.
Granny’s too old and tired to manage it. (So am I, actually—but it’s got to be done.)
—DKP, sous chef by circumstance, not by calling
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