Whether I cook it for the picky children and not-as-picky husband, or I order something for dinner that someone else makes, most of the time, I choose what I eat based on if I can eat it again for lunch the next day.
Sloppy Joes? The girls may whine about having to eat meat, but at least I’ll have lunch the next day.
Gnocchi? Even better warmed up after 18 hours in the fridge.
Spaghetti sauce? It’s the only thing make from scratch, and when I make it, I make it by the gallon.
Conquistador Mexican Platter? The trough of Mexican meats, cheeses, and sauces may be too big for one meal, but half of that deliciousness is reserved for tomorrow.
Knowing I’ll have leftovers left over from what I order out to eat, I draw a line down the middle of my plate, then I vow not to cross that line. I’ve been known to ask the server to take away my takeaways so I’m not even tempted to glutton over the saved 1/2.
PeeEss, the fridge is only this clean & empty because of the recent FridgeGate 2011.
Today, I have my favorite, Gnocchi in Pink Bolognase. Right at this moment, it’s 11:01am, and I’ve been fixated on the styrofoam box in the fridge holding my precious since 8am when I got out of bed.
I’m thinking of having Gnocchi for brunch. That’s OK, right?