The Joy of Leftovers

I always hated it when my mother served leftovers – probably because in my family if something were worth eating, we'd have finished it the first time. Certainly I would have – either publicly or, more likely, in secret.

Now I get a ludicrous high just from knowing there are leftovers in my fridge or cupboards – whether it's half a box of Annie's Mac and Cheese I made the day before, the salted caramel truffles I received as a wedding favour three weeks ago (!), or the Trader Joe's maple cream sandwich cookies and peanut butter-filled pretzels I brought back from the US in January. The simple existence of leftovers says: I am in control. (Or, given recent postings on the blog, I am in control at least some of the time. Maybe even more than I give myself credit for.)

Today's lunch included whole-wheat tortilla wraps I need to use up, plus a chunk of goat cheese I got at a cheese tasting last night (more on that in a minute) and a Granny Smith apple I looted from the bowl at the gym yesterday. I felt smugly satisfied eating it – or as smugly satisfied as one can feel after last night's cheesetastic adventures.

Yes, Peridot and I hit up a cheese tasting – 16 cheeses, plus wine, crackers/biscuits, and the contraband Ben's oatmeal cookie she brought me. Normally I'd never have suggested such an event, but I'm trying to live a little (more), and besides, now that I eat less I'm pickier about what it is. So why not figure out what's really worth eating?

I'd give myself a B for the evening. I started out with a brilliant workout from Gina – I can't say I loved all the music, but I absolutely loved being told what to do for 45 minutes. It cut down on the amount of time I waste talking myself into (or really, out of) doing things, and I was so busy following from minute to minute that the time just flew. Though I'm usually pretty good about logging the cardio time, I'm not always so good about making it really count – this definitely helped. Then I snacked on a berry Trek bar.

The tasting was to start at 7:30 pm, which gave me minor anxiety as I have trouble figuring out what's dinner when it's all in little bits. Clearly I still have food issues (um, duh) because I did find myself getting mildly grumpy and anxious at the sight of a lot of food I wasn't yet allowed to eat – we sat for a while waiting for some latecomers, and then the cheesemaster (or whatever he's called) talked for a while before we got to try the first one. It was also interesting to see how automatically I will eat anything in front of me – even now. I had to consciously tell myself to wait until we had tried all the cheeses before taking seconds of any one (I took seconds of just two of them: a sheep's cheese we tasted first and that remained my favourite, and a bit more ricotta, just because I'd forgotten just how delicious it can be).

I had two oatcakes and two digestive biscuits, at least one more than I should have – but I didn't touch the white bread, which is always the sort of thing I attack ¾ of the way through the evening and after a couple of glasses of wine. I definitely didn't need the last glass of red wine I had at the end of the evening. And ditto the Ben's cookie, which I ought to have savoured and not eaten while heading out. So, not perfect, but definitely could have been much, much worse. Progress, not perfection, as they say...