I have a problem: The produce in my kitchen talks to me, and it's not nice.
Tell me again why you have a garden when I, a beautiful squash, sit on the counter for weeks, ignored and unused?
Oh, yeah, squash?! (Now they've begun to talk to one another. You know how it is. This voice comes from the crisper drawer where things aren't all that crisp.) You were a freak of nature. She wrote blog posts about your weirdness. I, on the other hand, am beautiful apples that came in her fancy-schmancy produce bin. The real tragedy here is that I am unused.
Now the spinach speaks up. She never even wanted me. I'm from that time she forgot to customize her bin. It was so much better when she just deleted me from her bin and chose more &*)$_ pears. Now I have to sit here and go brown and liquidy with you lot of whiners.
The less intelligent fruits and vegetables simply chant, "Why aren't you using me? I'm beginning to go bad! Lookatme lookatme lookatme."
Tonight it got to me. I threw away the spinach and a head of cauliflower. I mashed the three brown bananas and made banana bread.
For dinner, I whacked up two big spaghetti squash and three bell peppers. Naturally, in my haste to try to rid myself of as much produce as possible, I cut way too much and had to cook it in shifts. I added kosher salt, black pepper, red pepper flakes, and cumin and then sprinkled the top with a bit of sharp cheddar cheese.
It was... fine.
And now the leftovers are talking from the fridge.