Planned Overs

My mother always called them "planned overs". She was a child of the Great Depression, the wife of a lowly junior Naval officer, and the mother of four children all blessed with hearty appetites, so nothing was wasted.

When my older sister outgrew her clothes, I wore them next. When butter was unwrapped, the paper was saved to grease a pan. Food in excess at one meal always made an appearance at a subsequent repast. Other mothers called them leftovers but, classy dame that she was, mine insisted they were "planned overs," and that they tasted better the second day.

In the case of my dinner of Dill Lemon Rice and the greenie beanies I sauteed for dinner the following night, she was right - they may not look pretty but they are even better the next day. My Beloved was out of town on an overnight business trip and I was too tired and too hungry after work to bother cooking so I went foraging in the fridge and found the rice and beans combo that I nuked in the microwave and ate straight from the pot.

I didn't plan it, exactly, but these definitely qualified as "planned overs."