to go box

I am a big fan of the to go box. I love having a good meal and look forward to eating it again. Many times, I eat according to the to go box plan. Meaning, even if I want a little more of one particular thing, I'll resist so it can go into the to go box. Of course, 9 times out of 10, I actually walk out of the restaurant and accidentally leave my box on the table (thank God for servers who will kindly chase you down. It's incredibly frustrating to abstain from your favorite dishes so that you can savor them later only to find that they'll be wasted...unless the server is my sister who will actually eat a stranger's leftovers, but that is a story for another day.)

Last night, we went out for a Valentine's Day date. We didn't go to a really fancy restaurant, but one a little nicer than where we typically eat. We had blue crab and spinach dip...yum! I ordered a fancy martini with blueberries. For dinner, I got the parmesan crusted chicken. There was another entree that was slightly more decadent but I chose the chicken because it came with steamed vegetables and, my absolute favorite, mashed potatoes. When the meal arrived, there were two breasts on the plate, so I planned my to go box. I ate one breast and some of the green beans and some potatoes. Then I ate more potatoes. Then I ate more. I have a hard time stopping when it comes to mashed potatoes. I always have.

There were probably only two bites left when I finished and I take small bites, but I noticed the chicken was resting on the potatoes and so there were probably two more bites to be savored when I finished the meal at a later date. I saved about 5 green beans and asked the girl for a box. Now, I know there wasn't much left besides the chicken, but I carefully evaluated my strategy and knew that it was just enough extra to make the meal tasty for lunch. When she arrived, with the box in hand, instead of asking if I'd like her to box it, or simply leaving the box, she just took my plate. I got a small sense of panic, but let it go. Until she returned with my box and the only thing inside was the chicken! My frustration must have been obvious because my husband instantly said, you were going to save those mashed potatoes. To which I replied, and the green beans!

This has been a difficult lesson for him to learn. For whatever reason, I grew up part hamster. You might think I was a character in Oliver Twist the way I hoard food. I'll get things I'm incredibly exited about and never eat them, but you better not eat them either! My husband has felt my wrath for drinking the one cherry lemon Sundrop in the fridge. (Hey, I can't find them anywhere!) He's also gotten lectured about not eating my leftovers, finishing the girl scout cookies too quickly (you can only by them ONCE A YEAR), and eating a sugar free pudding when there are regular ones in the fridge too and he could care less about his waistline.

It's taken him 7 years, but I think he's finally catching on. Way to go, Fred. Now, could you run back to the kitchen and get our waitress to put the rest of my dinner in this box?