I’m always amazed at what people keep in their freezers.  From hemorrhoid cream to stool samples to placentas, the list is disgustingly endless.  I’ll admit, even my own freezer is a subzero burial ground for both my kids’ deceased pet fish, Kevin and Cookie.

I stumbled upon their bug-eyed remains recently while digging through our chest freezer for fish sticks (ironically enough.)  Andrew calls our cavernous arctic box ‘the way station’, the isle of culinary misfits where leftovers go to die.  Now, since the betas have passed, it also doubles as a morgue. Read more