I just drove my bestie to the airport.  She’s returning to California after two weeks in Chi-town where she’s been working on the renovation of the lakefront co-op she purchased last spring.

I’m not a spokesperson for petrochemical-based packaging, but it seems like I have relevant experience.

I looked over the plastic containers and divided Styrofoam boxes now spread out over my kitchen counter.  They represented Lin’s dining excursions for the week.

I accompanied her for many dinners out, which resulted in some leftovers, and I inherited a few more containers which, not wanting to let anything go to waste, she brought to my place in a tall white plastic garbage bag on her last night in town.

We also had leftovers from the breakfast stop we took on the way to O’Hare.

I had already re-packed slices of stuffed spinach and mushroom pizza in a freezer-safe zip-loc.  Most of a perfect golden waffle and cinnamon roll (for which Ann Sather is famous) was still in its original container.  Half of my veggie omelet was in a matching Styrofoam box, which thankfully, I did not break when trying to close it.

Half of a mixed green salad (with vinaigrette on the side) was in a black plastic bowl with a clear lid.  A few pieces of sushi, along with rice, filled out another take-home container.

Before letting my friend off at Departures, I asked her when she went out for sushi as I didn’t want to entertain any bacteria in my body no matter how pricey the mackerel was.

Ahhh. I was both bewildered by the sight (of all these leftovers) and delighted.

Even though I knew these edibles were paid for (a few fees for parking may have also been included in some nights out), it felt like I was now able to stock my fridge with FREE FOOD for the week.

I knew this was a little trick I was playing with my mind, with how I framed things.

Again, dinners out were paid for, but now it felt like I had MEALS that I didn’t have to plan or budget for.

I loved this!

The Cambridge Dictionary, online version, defines take-home as;

Bought from a shop and eaten, used, etc. somewhere else.

The concept of take-home delights me.

• You get the experience of dining out; of being waited on, of choosing what you want to eat from a selection of ingredients that you probably don’t have at home.
• You don’t have to eat to the point of discomfort and don’t have to waste what you can’t finish before you pay the bill.
• You can feed on something you enjoyed later in the week (or month, with careful repacking) for FREE, without having to shop or set aside prep time.

Looking at the remnants of this week’s dinners, I also felt good about my friend’s visit.

She had to work most days (which she was able to do by computer from her new home, minimally furnished with a card table, chair, and sofa bed).  She had to deal with contractors and plan how to stage months’ of work at her new place from two thousand miles away.

But she ATE WELL!  (And now, so will I.)

Enjoying the delights of leftovers and take-home restaurant meals is no small thing (even if you feel compelled to ditch some of the sushi).