Golden Moldies

I'm conducting an experiment with a half loaf of bread in my office. It's been there roughly since the end of last September. It has yet to grow any mold whatsoever. I'm not sure why, but I find this fascinating. I call it my "Wonder Bread." On a monthly basis, I update my co-workers on the status of my wonder bread. In fact the last update was only a few days ago when we returned to campus from the holiday break. Still no mold. I'm starting to wonder if my bread should have a special place in the Smithsonian Institute. I suppose bread is an odd thing to fixate on, but considering this whole mess with the dissertation process, it's really all about the little mindless things. Therefore, I largely credit my unmolding half loaf of bread for a big chunk of my sanity. Not that I'd want to open it up at this point and smell it. But then again, maybe it's just fermenting. Can bread turn into alcohol?

Unfortunately, the same can't be said for many of the things in my refrigerator. I opened it up the other day and realized half the containers of food had been in there possibly longer than the gestation period for rabbits. I opened up one container and discovered nothing but white fuzz. It took me a while to realize the container was actually full of sliced tomatoes I had cut for BLTs. That's when I remembered I had also bought lettuce. I opened up the veggie drawer. I never knew lettuce could turn into brown liquid before. That's when I noticed the mushrooms I had bought for the Christmas meal I cooked--also disgustingly liquified. I had used most of them, so the package was open. Unfortunately, I tipped the package as I took it out of the refrigerator and brown ooze dripped all over the floor and my bare feet, which sent me hopping around and more brown ooze dripping across the floor. I guess this is probably a sad commentary on my dog, but Audrey was anxiously standing by wanting to lick up the disgusting goo! Labs really have no taste buds whatsoever.

Cleaning up that mess, I decided maybe I should take a look at the milk. Jeremy had been complaining for several days (maybe a week) that every time he opened up the fridge, he could smell it. I had basically just been not breathing when I opened the refrigerator door, so I could never confirm or deny his claims. I picked up the jug, carried it to the sink and started dumping. I will just confirm he was correct in his assessment of the smell, and I will just note that it was --well--far from pleasant. Also, it didn't really pour from the jug so much as plop. And I'm fairly certain milk should never plop nor should you have to run the garbage disposal to get rid of it.

That done, I then discovered the leftover cheesecake I had made for Christmas day sitting in a container. It didn't smell bad, had no mold, but I'm fairly certain one month old cheesecake should not be eaten. It had been (at the time of cooking it) a chocolate turtle cheesecake, with the bottom layer a sticky mixture of carmel, evaporated milk and pecans. Somehow, that had bled through the crust and the thing was cemented into the pan. I decided it might be better to let it sit out on the counter and warm up before I tried to dislodge it. So, I set it down on the counter with all intentions of coming back to it a few hours later and tossing it. I forgot. Well, maybe not so much forgot as dreaded the whole scraping, prying process it would take to get the thing out. So, Monday passed, Tuesday, Wednesday. . . Every time I'd go into the kitchen, I'd look at the container on the counter, think, "well, it doesn't smell," get a soda, and then just leave it sitting. I finally got it out of the pan the following Sunday night. I'm not sure if it was a result of sitting for so long in both the refrigerator and on the counter or what, but I swear the thing gained mass. For something that's basically eggs and cream cheese, I'm pretty sure it weighed roughly five pounds by the time I got it into the garbage can. Maybe I should have saved it--it might also have been a candidate for the Smithsonian Institute!