There’s a certain feeling you get when you open your freezer and gaze upon the chaos of frozen items you’ve stashed away. It’s a mix of mild shame and a touch of pride—shame because you know full well you’ll never actually cook any of these things, but pride because, well, they’re *there*. You bought them with the best of intentions, and maybe, just maybe, someday you’ll be the kind of person who makes good on these impulsive purchases. But deep down, you know that day will never come. At least, not in the foreseeable future. Let me take you through the list of items in my freezer that will likely remain there, untouched, for as long as I have the space for them.
The Box of Frozen Drumsticks
Ah, drumsticks. You know, the kind of drumsticks that, in theory, should be perfect for a hearty, flavorful sambar or a rich chicken curry. And yet, here they are, sitting in the back of my freezer, untouched, because I just can’t bring myself to actually cook them. I bought them with the intention of making a nice spicy chicken curry one rainy afternoon, maybe with a side of rice and a dollop of yogurt, just like I used to have back in Mumbai. But every time I open the freezer, I stare at that box, take a deep breath, and then quietly shut the door. It’s not that I don’t like drumsticks. It’s just that they’re one of those things that require effort—effort I’m not willing to commit when a bag of frozen peas or a packet of paneer is staring back at me, offering instant gratification.
For now, the drumsticks remain there, like a reminder of my good intentions, a silent promise that I’m *one day* going to cook something amazing. But not today.
The Rogue Paneer Cube
Next, we have the rogue cube of frozen paneer. Just one, mind you. Not the whole block. No, I had to settle for a random, solitary cube that was left over from some half-hearted attempt at making a curry or a sandwich. I’ve been meaning to use it, to incorporate it into a quick paneer butter masala or a simple palak paneer. But every time I see it, I wonder if it will taste as good as fresh paneer. Will it be rubbery? Will it absorb the spices? More importantly, can I justify thawing it out for a single-serving curry when I’m perfectly content with cooking something else (like dal, which has the bonus of being far easier)?
And so, the cube sits, taunting me with its potential, daring me to give it a purpose. But it’s been there for months, and honestly, I think I might just let it stay until I finally make the decision to throw it out—because isn’t that what we do with all those rogue freezer items? They become our silent companions, forever lingering with no real purpose.
That One Roti
This one’s a classic. You’ve made a fresh batch of roti, only to realize that you’re just one shy of your usual number. And so, you freeze it, thinking, “I’ll just pop this one in the microwave the next time I need it.” But, like the drumsticks and rogue paneer, that one roti stays there. It’s not the kind of thing you *need* to thaw out for a casual lunch. It’s too little to justify the effort of reheating. And besides, when you’ve got naan, paratha, or even leftover rice waiting to be turned into something more exciting, that lonely roti just doesn’t stand a chance.
But every time I open the freezer, there it is: one roti, frozen stiff like a time capsule of my past meal. Maybe it will go well with a bowl of curry—maybe it’ll end up in the trash. Either way, it’ll never get the chance to fulfill its potential.
The Bag of Frozen Mixed Vegetables
Oh, the frozen mixed vegetable bag. It seemed like a smart choice when I was stocking up for the week. A mix of peas, carrots, beans, and corn, all ready to be tossed into any curry or sautéed with a few spices. It sounded like a quick and easy meal idea. But there it sits, half-forgotten at the bottom of the freezer, waiting for me to realize it’s still there. Every time I glance at it, I remind myself, “I’ll use it this week.” But when it’s time to cook, I always find myself reaching for fresh vegetables or simply opting for frozen peas, which, frankly, seem like they’ll be more versatile. The mixed vegetable bag, with its random assortment of frozen chunks, feels too complicated, too “meh” to make the cut. And so, it waits.
It’s the kind of food I have big plans for, but somehow never get around to actually using. It’s a constant reminder that sometimes, we stock up on things thinking we’ll be more ambitious, but in the end, we just settle for what’s easy.
The “Just In Case” Frozen Pizza
Sometimes, we buy things because we think we’ll *need* them. You know, just in case there’s an emergency. This particular emergency is the pizza emergency. And so, I’ve got this frozen pizza in my freezer. It’s not fancy—it’s the kind of pizza that will never live up to a fresh one from the local pizzeria or the one I could easily make with a few ingredients at home. But there it is, waiting for the day when I might have no energy to cook or no options left. In my mind, I’ve prepared myself for this pizza to save me on a particularly lazy night. But in reality, it just sits there, frozen, with no real purpose—because I always find another way to avoid it.
It’s funny how we keep these items “just in case,” but somehow never end up using them. They’re the “backup plans” that end up becoming part of the scenery, never truly tested for their worth.
The Freezer Graveyard
Looking into my freezer, I realize that it’s not just a place to store food—it’s a graveyard of good intentions. Each item has a story, a promise of future meals that never quite came to fruition. It’s filled with things I thought I’d cook “one day,” but that “one day” has yet to come. And while these items may sit untouched, they’re still part of my food journey, silently waiting for the right moment—whether that moment ever comes or not. Maybe, just maybe, one day I’ll defrost those drumsticks, use that rogue paneer cube, and finally give that lonely roti its time to shine. Until then, they remain frozen in time, like little reminders of all the things we never quite got around to doing—but secretly hope to get back to.
Born in Mumbai, now stir-frying feelings in Texas. Writes about food, memory, and the messy magic in between — mostly to stay hungry, sometimes just to stay sane.
Born in Mumbai, now stir-frying feelings in Texas. Writes about food, memory, and the messy magic in between — mostly to stay hungry, sometimes just to stay sane.
