COMMENTARY
Too good to go? The second life of leftovers
Published November 30, 2024 12:00PM (EST)
Thanksgiving leftovers, cranberry sauce, stuffing, mashed potatoes, turkey, greens and yams in containers (Getty Images/Maren Caruso)
Leftovers have always been a bit of a culinary underdog. In pop culture, they’re the sad, wilted contents of plastic containers relegated to sitcom refrigerators — proof of a dinner gone unloved. Yet for me, leftovers have never been a source of shame. Growing up in a family of six, including two perpetually ravenous brothers, leftovers were a rarity, and when they appeared, they were a kind of edible jackpot. The prize might be a sliver of Mom’s baked spaghetti or the last spoonful of Dad’s white chicken chili, spooned unceremoniously onto a tortilla chip or two. In a house where food disappeared almost as quickly as it was made, the idea of leftovers as a burden simply didn’t exist.
But the pandemic changed my relationship with leftovers, as it did so many other things. Suddenly, there was no line between breakfast, lunch and dinner — time blurred into endless stretches punctuated by snacks. Cooking at home was both a necessity and a tedium. The monotony of reheating last night’s dinner collided with the allure of delivery apps, which dangled the promise of something new and indulgent. During those early lockdown days, ordering takeout wasn’t just about food; it was also a symbolic act of solidarity with small businesses. Who could resist Thai curry when the alternative was a third day’s helping of tepid spaghetti?
That said, the delivery era was relatively short-lived in my kitchen. Inflation hit, the novelty wore off and my credit card bills needed a break. I found myself cooking more, out of both financial prudence and a desire to regain control of my meals. In my now two-person household, his return to home cooking brought an unexpected companion: leftovers.
At first, I’ll admit they did feel a bit like a chore, a sign of my failure to portion correctly or eat everything while it was fresh. But somewhere along the way, my perspective shifted. Leftovers became less a consolation prize and more a creative challenge. Inspired by books like “PlantYou: Scrappy Cooking: 140+ Plant-Based Zero-Waste Recipes That Are Good For You, Your Wallet, and the Planet” — which I read after author Carleigh Bodrug was interviewed by my colleague Michael La Corte — “Perfectly Good Food: A Totally Achievable Zero Waste Approach to Home Cooking,” and Julia Turshen’s absolutely fantastic “What Goes with What: 100 Recipes, 20 Charts, Endless Possibilities,” I started planning meals with their second act already in mind. A pot of roasted vegetables became the filling for quiche. Sunday’s roast chicken transformed into chicken Caesar wraps for an easy weeknight dinner.
What I discovered was a subtle joy in this kind of kitchen alchemy. Leftovers weren’t just practical; they were a form of play. Could I turn two cups of rice and some sad parsley into the backbone of a respectable dinner?