A Belated Apology to My Mom: The Waste Not, Want Not Rule

I know.

I made fun of you when you re-used your tea bags and re-washed your plastic bags. I made fun of the whole cabinet in your kitchen devoted to rinsed-out Chinese takeout containers. I laughed at your willingness to defy use-by dates on food. And medicine. (Remember the enormous bottle of aspirin circa 1950 that you continued to dole out even when it smelled, of what? What exactly does thirty-year-old aspirin smell like?)

You always said to me, “Huh! You’re so rich! You didn’t live through the Depression.” That was always your answer, your warning. There was no good comeback. Even from a hyper-verbal smart aleck like me. So, in this our first real blush with Depression and scarcity, what lessons did you teach me that I can now summon and use, free of snark?

First of all: Sorry for making fun of you about the cottage cheese with the layer of blue curds. Also, ditto for the almond croissants from Costco that went day-glo green, and for occasionally melting vanilla ice cream when a guest wanted cream for their instant coffee. I know now that it was probably OK for us to eat around the spoiled parts. And after all, you ate all this scary stuff and lived to be a fully intact, sharp as a tack 96. So, who got the last laugh? You or the sanitation police?

We are more careful to use everything disposable to its max. To save soap and energy, we no longer run the washing machine unless it is completely, almost devastatingly, full. Ditto the dishwasher. (We are more creative than ever at stacking the dishes and pots inside.) Current wisdom is that using the dishwasher uses 1/13th the amount of energy and water compared to hand washing.

By the way, I found the baggie of Dad’s embroidered handkerchiefs. Kleenex got expensive, Thanks! And yes, I have found myself tucking them in the sleeve of my sweater and the pockets of my bathrobe. Just like you did, Mom. How cool an homage is that?! By the way, we also transitioned from paper napkins to cloth ones. So festive and fancy. Good that I had dozens, right? 

We do rinse the plastic bags. With a little bit of dish soap and a good soak and swish in a bowl in the kitchen sink. Drape them upside down over the kitchen cabinet handles. Just like you used to do. (I’m gritting my teeth a little as I write this).

I’ve made two pots of tea from the same leaves! Not bad! A little weak, but still hot and flavorful. It also helps me cut down on caffeine. This is good right now. My nervous system is on high alert and I have few outlets for my typical manic energy. Plus, coffee is elusive and expensive. Especially the Nespresso pods we got hooked on years ago. Before we understood that our deliveries put the delivery people and the warehouse people at risk.

I’m making what you jovially called “Refrigerator Soup” all the time now. You used to chop up all the leftovers, toss them in a huge pot with some water and see what would bubble up. If you weren’t happy with the result, you added tomato paste and a can of beans. Or pasta. Or god only knows what weird condiments left over from World War II, still hanging out chummily in the back of the fridge. (I sometimes shudder to think.)

We have re-discovered frozen vegetables! Yay for Birdseye! Not so bad if you ignore the package cooking instructions and blanch them in ice water before they turn to mush. We are very big fans of frozen spinach. But not with the can cream of mushroom soup. I still hate that.

We sniff before we toss. Milk. Leftovers. Refrigerator Soup. Don’t tell my husband, but I actually gave him the middle pieces of bread from a loaf that had a pretty hearty mold colony growing on the top slices.

It took me a while, Mom. But I learned! Aren’t you so very proud?