Over many years and many dinner parties we have evolved a somewhat fluid system that works for us. We bat around menus based on who is coming and what their dietary restrictions or preferences might be. We toy with the flow of the evening, which might mean drinks and appetizers in one place, dinner in another and dessert in a third. We divvy up the meal preparation as appropriate: some mains are hers, some are mine, and some menus require a more joint effort. Beyond those major building blocks my wife generally handles the front end, making dips and nibbles, while I usually handle the back, baking something sweet to end of the night. And she does the physical setup of the table while I figure out the music and drinks.
Once people arrive, we float back and forth as the conversation flows and the glasses ebb. Eventually we both make our way back to the kitchen for the final steps in cooking and serving. We fill the water glasses and pour the wine, then gather the troops at the table, raise a glass and pass the results of our efforts. Dinner continues until some undefined point when it feels like it's time to move on to the next stage. Depending on who is more in the thick of any discussion, either she or I will start to clear the dinner plates to get ready for dessert. As she usually does way more of the upfront stuff, I am happy to start the cleanup so she can stay part of the gathering. That means getting the first round of dishes into the dishwasher, washing the serving platters, and putting away any leftovers.
I am happy to do all of the above while the party continues, and while I know she will check my work, I think I don't do it too badly. There is, however, one task I am very poor at, almost to the point of comedy, one which she will redo as often as not. I admit that part of the deficiency is due to lack of intrinsic ability, but I also feel that a portion is due to a major structural defect in the system.
This all stems from the fact that we always, and I mean always, make more than we should. Partly it's because we want to ensure we have more than enough for our guests, partly it's an inability to correctly estimate how much a group will eat, and partly it's a strategic decision to have enough for another meal for us: cook once, eat twice. But here's where the problem starts. That excess has to go into some kind of container. And speaking strictly for myself, determining both the right size storage container and finding its matching top is a problem in quantum physics I can't solve for love nor money.
Over years and years we have amassed a staggering array of different types of plastic Tupperware, metal bowls, Pyrex dishes and takeout containers in a variety that rivels the number and diversity of insects in existence. Some are more suitable for stuff that will need to be reheated, some are better for more liquidity items, some will fit more readily in the available refrigerator space we have. Making a judgement a call as to the best one requires appraising those factors as well as the amount of food to be preserved, knowing its physical properties at varying temperatures and seeing into the future to determine its potential use case. The possible combinations and permutations are exponentially unfathomable, a Three Body Problem if ever there was one.
I make a guess and pull out something I think makes sense. Invariably I put half of the leftovers in it only to realize that it is actually too big or too small. And so I fish around for another vessel a step up or down, meaning I have also created even more to clean up.
And there are the aforementioned lids. You may be able to tell at a glance a Blue-Winged Wasp from a Yellow Jacket, or a Green Tiger Beetle from a Devil's Coach Horse. But I challenge you to pick out the one-quart Farberware bowl plastic top from a dozen other like specimens without taking each out and trying it to see if it clicks. Same for old takeout container tops, deli containers and Pyrex lids. Can't be done.
Or at least I can't. My wife seems to have some sort of Jedi sixth sense that enables her to look at a dish of leftovers, and know exactly which container will hold it with no slop. Likewise, she plucks the correct cover from a sea of lookalikes with barely a second glance. If she chances on me rummaging around and holding each up to the light, she waves her hand with a "This is not the top you are looking for" gesture and reaches in to get the correct one. She hands it to me, while paraphrasing a famous seer: "Use this top or not. There is no try."
Since many of us mere mortals lack that talent, I am forced to side with the person who posted in the "Crazy Ideas" Subreddit a strategy for going forward: "The key to happiness is to pick one brand and style of container that comes in a variety of sizes that suits your needs and then never f-ing deviate from it. Ever. See fantastic deals on other containers? Pass them by. Get a different kind of container as a housewarming gift? Re-gift or donate to charity." Tough talk, sure. But as I seek to reduce stress in my life, perhaps it is the way to go. Master Yoda once again: "Control, control, you must learn control!"
-END-
Marc Wollin of Bedford is bad at estimating things. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.
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