You know what makes me feel like a repressed 50's housewife? The fact that I wait until my husband is at work to sneak the vegetables we're never going to eat into the compost bin. Well, that and pre-treating the ring around the collar on his dress shirts. I die a little bit inside every time I do that.
But back to the food wasting. It's not like he would be angry with me. It's not like I don't have carte blanche to do whatever the eff I want around here. It's just that if the hubs sees me trying to throw away some turnips that have already languished in the crisper for a month, he tells me not to throw them away, he'll eat them. He will then proceed to attempt some nastiness like scrambled eggs and turnips, and I end up throwing out the remaining (majority) liquified turnips two weeks later. It's better my way, starving children in China or no.
Part of the problem is, no matter how much I actually enjoy eating kale or swiss chard, they are not exactly my "go-to" vegetables. Like any other good American, my staples are frozen peas and corn. Maybe green beans. MAYBE. Spinach? Even that is getting a little fancy. I grew up with frozen spinach served mostly in a hollowed out sourdough loaf as spinach dip. Oh and salad. We also had a lot of salad. And we have a lot of salad now in my Family, v. 2.0.
We also have about ten thousand apples in the fridge, because nobody really wants pears or persimmons or whatever else the CSA tries to pass off as acceptable fruits. So I always default to apples, but never actually eat them. Any time I do, I think "my, what a lovely little snack an apple makes," but then the next time I'm hungry I go right back to the M&Ms. Old habits. You know.