There are days when you wander into the kitchen feeling vague and slightly grumpy, with no particular plan in mind and the dinner hour approaching. You haven't made it to the market, you haven't defrosted anything. You throw open the fridge and gaze into the frozen tundra. The forlorn assembly of half-empty containers and shrunken, foil-wrapped leftovers seems to offer no hope. You root around in the pantry, coming across dusty bags of dried porcini and mystifying jars of grains. And then, inspiration strikes: I'll order takeout! Lucky you. Those of us who live far from the madding crowds (and from any semblance of civilization) cannot simply pick up the phone one minute and be sitting down to world-class dan dan noodles the next. Instead, we must dig down deep and practice the art of fridge foraging. This special ability, a sort of sophisticated version of dumpster diving, is what separates the dames from the ditzes—in the kitchen at least.
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