That actually sounds good. Could also be sandwich filling.
I bake Scotch Eggs.
Related note, and one I got from Alton Brown of Good Eats fame years ago. I like to periodically buy various specialty cheeses for eating or serving to guests and friends (in the before-times you know). When everyone is gone and you have leftovers, you throw all the leftovers bits of various cheeses in the food processor, along with a couple of cloves of garlic, 1/4 cup or so of leftover white wine from the same event, a couple of tablespoons of softened butter, and any savory herbs you like or have on hand. Process. Now you have a garlicy herby cheese spread of the gods, and perfect to finish off any leftover crackers, pitas, or crusty breads.
ETA - not shameful really, but the quoted post brought it to mind and I might feel shamed if I bought decent cheese just to make it, but when you have half a dozen/dozen cubes of 4-5 different cheeses left it is sometimes hard to make them into useful dishes in short order.
Say more words!
I just printed this advice out for the hostess of the cheese tasting I am going to this evening. On-line of course, so it will just be our pod at the house and we’re all vaccinated. But she’ll have leftovers for sure.
My mother did that with bologna and sweet pickles, and Miracle Whip of course, and we ate it on sandwiches. She called it “monkey meat” but don’t ask me why.
If you can get bacon ends, they’re fantastic for pretty much any non eating-out-of-hand use for bacon, at a somewhat lower cost.
I’m not averse to using MSG either.
Or dill pickles for that matter. Fermented in loosely covered tubs out in the elements.
I agree. I adore Claxton fruitcake. I keep meaning to drive down the bakery and tour it - Claxton’s only 200 miles from me.
I don’t so much adore it as feel a compulsion to buy a sleeve of it every Christmas and have a few slices with some strong black tea. Then throw the rest out swearing I’ll never buy it again. But I know I will. It’s a dysfunctional relationship.
We use that stuff that is 60% butter 40% marg, it spread easily even out of the fridge.
I feel like a thrifty 1940’s housewife, stretching my food stamps as far as they’ll go. Love Alton Brown’s cheese bitz recommendation, too.
OK, I googled tilapia and I was disturbed by what I found. Not because tilapia were feeding on poo, but because apparently, tilapia are plant eaters, and they eat poo when they are being starved, so what you described seems really cruel. (Also it seems you should have no fear of eating regular tilapia as that is not their regular diet).
Mini marshmellows and/or Peeps are so much better stale. I’ll buy a bag and open it and leave it in the cupboard for a few weeks, then eat them.
Why throw it out? A few slices at a time, that thing could last you for years.
You sound like a friend of mine. Apparently she eats every bit of cartilage and sinew, and there is nothing left but bare bone when she’s done with her chicken. I have never seen this, as she will not eat chicken in front of anyone but her husband.
There’s a “bakery outlet” nearby that always has packages of little cinnamon doughnuts that were smashed to crumbs. That’s OK by me because a spoonful of doughnut crumbs makes my morning oatmeal heavenly.
About that tilapia: I recall reading that the ancient Romans prized fish caught from the Tiber that were caught close to the outflow of the Cloaca Maxima - the city’s drainage system.
There’s a fish market in Pittsburgh where you can sometimes buy Tilapia that are swimming in a tank. I like to buy one, pay for it to be dressed, then make tilapia ceviche one night and breaded tilapia air fried the next, or stuffed tilapia (based on my stuffed flounder recipe).
When I was a little kid, we would sometimes drive 8hours each way my grandparents’ for a few days. One year we visited at Easter, which meant leftover ham for the trip back home. My mom chopped it up and mixed it with Miracle Whip and called it ham salad. Sandwiched with white bread and cut into square quarters for the 8-hour drive. Fifty years later, the trauma of that vile abomination is just as fresh in my mind as it was that awful, eternal car trip–my three sisters and I tumbling loose around the back of a puke green 1964 Chevy station wagon wailing in anguish at each Stuckeys we passed. We still use it as a reference point for awfulness in food.
The very thought of tilapia coming anywhere near my mouth causes violent gut spasms and throat clenches.