Once I had a housekeeper who lost some cleaning product every Tuesday. Some of that tendency might have been related to the six-pack of beer she insisted I leave in the refrigerator the night before she cleaned. She usually drank two beers while she ironed and took four home.
I found Windex in the refrigerator, Pledge on my nightstand, or maybe Tub & Tile cleaner in a closet (and not the one assigned to janitorial supplies). I loved that woman. Her name was Patty. She and her husband raised eleven children, some of whom were in high school when she came to my house.
I have to admit I’ve developed a tendency to lose things. Earrings, photos, flower pots, electronics manuals, books, lipstick, and baking supplies are all examples of things I put in a safe place and couldn’t find. I usually end a search with, “It’ll turn up somewhere.”
I’ve never lost a fish–until a couple weeks ago.
Dave and I had wild-caught cod with the most delightful seasoning, asparagus, and smashed little potatoes for dinner. Four good-sized fillets, semi-breaded with crumbs and pungent herbs, were cooked in my favorite kitchen add-on, the air fryer.
Let me tell you about that air fryer. It isn’t my first one. I sent that one back without opening the box. But the one I have now has two independent drawers, and it is so easy to cook an entire dinner for two or three diners. It’s easy to clean since I discovered those little air fryer liners. I love it and use it almost every day.
The fish was delicious, and there were two pieces left to put away for another meal. The air fryer re-heats supremely, leaving what you put in it in much better shape than when it went in. I’m just saying you can have crispy leftover French fries or maybe a like-new entree.
Dave cleaned the kitchen that night. I knew he would put the leftovers in glass containers or plastic bags for another meal.
We discuss dinner before we finish breakfast. I’m sometimes half-asleep, but at the very least, I can agree with the protein that will be served. We wanted to use the leftover fish promptly to be closer to fresh so I planned to heat it in the air fryer the next day.
That evening, the fish was not in the refrigerator, so we ate a burger instead. I suggested that Diana, who likes her food cold, probably had eaten the cod for breakfast. When she came in later that evening, I asked her if she had eaten the fish.
“No, she answered, “I ate pasta salad. Lots of pasta salad. All of the pasta salad.” (When she eats, she eats.)
The following day, she asked if I had found the fish I sought.
“No, I think Dave must have thrown it away,” I said, even though he had told me earlier that he had not seen the fish. But maybe he did and didn’t realize it. He’s, at the very least, as forgetful as I am.
We looked in every drawer and cabinet in the kitchen. Maybe somebody stuck it in the cabinet.
Finally, we all agreed that the delicious leftover fish had been thrown away. What a waste.
Dave has often reminded me that “fish and company stink after three days.” (Mind you, he was giving me a reason not to stay too long at our friends’ house and not referring to any guests we might have.)
Well, the little pieces of cod took almost six days to stink. Diana came into the kitchen one morning, grimaced, and asked, “What is that foul smell over here?” Dave said he smelled it too. Diana was standing in front of the recycling bin. She took the bin to the garage and emptied it into the receptacle that Metro empties every other week.
“It’s not the recycling,” she said when she returned. “Maybe it’s the garbage can.”
Well, sometimes things start to stink in the garbage if they’re there for a couple of days. She emptied the trash and sprayed the bin before adding a new (biodegradable) bag.
I rarely smell any odor anywhere, owing to the years of asthma inhalers and chronic coughing, which, by the way, is soooo much better since I’ve started the bi-monthly injection of Fasenra.
I asked, “Do you still smell it?”
“Lord, yes.” Her gaze traveled the row of upper cabinets and the appliances on the sideboard. There’s a scale, a slow cooker, and…an air fryer. I can’t tell you what she said when she first opened the #1 pan of my most wonderful kitchen helper, but it was followed quickly by “found the *&$#! fish!”
I jumped up from my chair at the kitchen table. She had donned her plastic gloves and was already headed outside with her quarry when she yelled, “Don’t come out here. And leave that thing alone.”
“Are there maggots?” I asked.
“Yes, and stay away from it,” she answered. “Sit down.”
I did. Sit down.
I thought she had dumped the decrepit fish flesh in the garbage can, but she told me later she emptied it in the common area woods in the back of our house and then blasted it with the garden hose. She put it in the kitchen sink and doused it with hydrogen peroxide and Odoban, a disinfecting product I’ve used for years, especially during the Covid years.
Then she grabbed the #2 basket and put it in the sink, giving it the same going-over as #1. She unplugged the air fryer and furiously wiped the insides with paper towels, both wet and dry.
“Were there maggots inside it, too?”
She lifted her head and just stared at me. Or maybe she glared at me.
She disinfected the insides of that thing so much I was afraid it would never work again. She put the two baskets and their trays in the dishwasher. I put my hands on her shoulders and said, “Diana, you know I would never ask you to do something like that, but I want to thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
She mumbled something nice and then announced, “I am going to get in the shower.
I heard her call over her shoulder, “Now that we’ve found Nemo.”
On the Ravine 