It’s nearing the end of the month, so we’re starting to run out of groceries. In my head I’m worried about money so I refuse to buy more food, but honestly, it’s just been really gross outside and leaving the house seems like a terrible idea what with the requiring underwear and a bra and such. Since we’re out of  lot of fresh ingredients and most of the staples, I’ve had to get creative while making dinner – and for some reason, Ed doesn’t appreciate my frugal culinary efforts as much as he could.

Take tonight, for example. I marinated some salmon steaks in a garlic lime sauce, and planned to serve them with baked potatoes and corn. We’re out of potatoes, though, and as I’m still coming down from the weekend’s hot pot high (that is not a euphemism; we had traditional Chinese hot pot and ALL THE RICE at M&R’s over the weekend), I did not feel like rice. Time to rummage around in the freezer to see what I can find: a package of badly freezer-burnt scallops that expired last spring? Check! An improperly stored loaf of insta-bread? Sure! A sad, wilted box of spring mix with a best before date of January 30? Why the heck not! I pulled everything out of the freezer and got to work.

The salmon and sauce were purchased two weeks ago, so they were safe to eat. The scallops, though .. I didn’t know frozen food had an expiry date, but what doesn’t kill me can only make me stronger, right? Applying that particular homily to seafood might be a recipe (snerk) for disaster, but on the other hand, I might get super powers from my experiment. After all, where would Peter Parker be if he hadn’t decided he needed masturbation material a picture of Mary Jane at that exact moment in the low security wing of the Radioactive Spiders with a Taste for Human Flesh Lab? Certainly not fighting crime armed with spandex and hilarious puns, that’s for sure. With visions of a no-limit American Apparel credit card dancing in my head, I began to prepare the Danger Scallops in butter (not expired), garlic (safe to eat), and lemon juice (may have expired in 2009). As the salmon and sad, zombie-coloured bread baked in the oven, I plated the scallops artfully (covering the more dead-looking spots with garlicky expired lemon butter goo) and surveyed the result. They smelled pretty good, and looked fine if you assumed the grey parts were grill leavings. After they cooled a little, I took the leap: mmm, rubbery!

The first one didn’t taste too bad, so I ate another. The third one might have screamed in mindless terror as it moved toward my gaping maw, but it and the rest of the of the plate did not need to worry – by then, the aftermath of the first scallop hit me and I dropped the fork. No. This was no good. Man is not meant to play god in our freezer, and there would be no latex-flavoured justice in my future. As my stomach made some rude noises, I began to seriously think about a career in super-villainy. No time for that now – the oven dinged, and it was time to dish up course number two: garlic lime salmon on a bed of depressing wilted greens with a side of suspiciously doughy/sentient bread.

Ed asked if I was trying to kill him, which I laughed at – he knows all about the Murder Ham in the freezer; I don’t have to resort to poisonous seafood. Besides, I didn’t think he’d really eat the scallops. If they were horrible, neither of us would eat them. If they were delicious, they were all mine in accordance to the Kimli Loves Scallops Treaty of 2007. He was totally safe at all times – how dreadfully pedestrian.

Afterward, he made me promise I’d do groceries tomorrow.

Just wait til he sees what I’ve got planned for the Midnight Paneer that’s been lurking in the back of the freezer!