Starrs Aboard

When we bought our house, one of the things I absolutely loved about the kitchen was the pantry.

And I’m not talking about some little cupboard where you have to move fourteen things to find a can of tomato soup.

I’m talking about a pantry that’s seven feet tall, four feet wide, and three feet deep, with six shelves and a glorious pull-out section.

I couldn’t have designed it better myself.

Ed made it even better by adding lights to it when you open the doors.

Finally, I had a place where I could stock up when things went on sale. Buy one, get one free? Absolutely. Canned goods half price? Load up the cart!

I had the space, and by golly, I was going to use it.

When COVID hit and grocery store shelves started looking a little bare, I wasn’t particularly concerned about running out of food.

Apparently, I’d been preparing for a global pandemic for years.

Fast-forward to today.

We’re getting ready to sell everything and move into a 36-foot motorhome.

And that beautiful pantry?

It’s become a problem.

For the last couple of months, I’ve been very mindful about what I’m buying at the grocery store.

Just because something is on sale doesn’t mean I need to buy six of them anymore.

This is a surprisingly difficult habit to break.

But as you can see, there is now EMPTY SPACE on the shelves, so I’m going to call that a win!

I’ve also been trying to plan meals around what we already have rather than buying more groceries.

And yet, despite all this effort, I recently discovered that I still have NINE cans of garbanzo beans.

Nine!

What on earth was I planning to do with nine cans of garbanzo beans?

We eat black beans regularly. I understand why I have those.

But garbanzo beans?

Apparently, at some point, I decided we needed an emergency chickpea reserve.

I blame those recipes on the internet.

You know the ones. Toss your chickpeas with a little olive oil and seasoning, pop them in the oven, and enjoy a delicious, healthy, crispy snack!

Except mine have never been crispy.

Not once.

There must be some secret to roasting chickpeas that the entire internet knows except me.

I do make pretty good hummus, though.

So I guess we’ll be eating hummus.

Lots and lots of hummus.

If you come to visit between now and April, don’t be surprised if I greet you at the door with a bowl of hummus and a spoon.

And then there’s the pasta.

I have an impressive collection.

Which is particularly ridiculous considering Ed and I are both diabetic and probably shouldn’t be eating that much pasta in the first place.

But there it sits.

Spaghetti. Penne. Rotini. And probably a few shapes I couldn’t identify without reading the box.

I’m starting to think I could open a small Italian restaurant.

Except the only thing on the menu would be pasta and hummus.

But the biggest surprise I’ve found in the pantry?

The top shelf is actually difficult to access without a chair because of how deep it is.

And approximately HALF of it is filled with alcohol.

Vodka. Gin. And various other bottles containing things I can’t even remember buying.

Here’s where it gets interesting.

Neither Ed nor I really drinks.

So why do we have enough liquor to stock a small neighborhood bar?

I have absolutely no idea.

Where did it come from?

Who bought it?

What occasion were we planning for?

And why do we have multiple bottles that have been opened but barely touched?

It’s like someone started throwing cocktail parties at our house and forgot to invite us.

I briefly considered that perhaps we should start drinking our way through the collection.

But since we’re still working full-time, trying to downsize an entire house, building websites, and preparing for retirement, I’m thinking that might not be our wisest decision.

Besides, I don’t think either of us could develop a drinking habit fast enough to solve this particular problem before April.

So now I’ve got another challenge.

What do you do with a cupboard full of partially consumed liquor when you don’t drink?

It’s not exactly something I can sell on Facebook Marketplace.

And I can’t just pour it down the drain. With a septic system, I’m afraid I’d be creating an entirely different problem.

I don’t know anyone who drinks this much.

The Someday Problem

As I’ve been going through everything, I’ve noticed something else.

There are an awful lot of things in that pantry that I bought because someday I was going to use them.

Someday I’d make that recipe.

Someday I’d try something different.

Someday I’d figure out what to do with whatever was on sale that week.

And for years, that was fine.

There was always another someday.

But now?

Someday is getting awfully close to no days left.

April 2, 2027, is coming whether those garbanzo beans are gone or not.

And suddenly, I’m looking at everything in that pantry a little differently.

I don’t want to waste food. My mother taught me better than that, and some lessons stick with you forever.

So I’m getting creative with dinner.

I’m checking expiration dates, discovering things I apparently bought back in 2022, and trying to figure out how to turn my grocery stockpile into actual meals.

Of course, we can take some canned goods with us.

But there’s only so much room in a motorhome.

And after dealing with the freezers, I’ve already learned that just because something fits in our house doesn’t mean it’s coming along for the ride.

From Stocking Up to Using Up

For years, I loved opening that pantry and seeing all those shelves filled with food.

It made me feel organized. Prepared. Like I had everything I needed right at my fingertips.

Now?

I get excited when I see an empty spot.

Who knew that using the last can of something could feel like such an accomplishment?

It’s funny how quickly your priorities change.

A few months ago, I would have been thrilled to find a great sale on canned goods.

Today, I’m practically celebrating every time I throw an empty pasta box into the recycling bin.

I used to measure the success of my pantry by how much I could fit into it.

Now I’m measuring it by how much I can get out of it.

And somewhere along the way, I’m learning that preparing for a smaller life doesn’t necessarily mean giving something up.

Sometimes it means finally using what you’ve been saving for someday.

So if anyone has a good recipe for garbanzo beans, I’m all ears.

Bonus points if it uses pasta.

And if you can somehow incorporate a half bottle of gin, I might just name the recipe after you.

Because apparently, someday has arrived.