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I love cooking with my kitchen’s constant supply of weird little leftovers. I was raised by a father who rinses out bottles of honey with a splash of hot water to get to the very last bit, and who mixes salad dressings in almost-empty jars of mustard. And my mother is an expert at organizing and meal planning, always turning leftovers into new meals.
I'm more impulsive in the kitchen, though I’ve inherited some of their habits. The most satisfying part of Thanksgiving for me isn’t the meal itself, but that moment when I pull the turkey meat, toss the bones into a stockpot to simmer, and begin plotting the arguably more interesting and certainly less intensive Day 2 and Day 3 meals from this one’s ruins.
If you were trying to convince someone about the merits of cooking with scraps and leftovers, you’d likely talk about how it’s a more organized and efficient way to approach the food you buy, how it saves both time and money, and how it’s better for the environment than automatically dumping food into the garbage, where it will go on to sit in a landfill and produce vast amounts of methane while it slowly decomposes.
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