I don’t like leftovers.

There… I’ve said it.

Leftovers are not the delicious, sensuous, culinary delights of a well-prepared meal from yesterday. They are the spare, waste residue from which I did not choose to partake 24-hours ago; so why would I want to eat the residual remains today?

When I was living in a family of five and six, I didn’t like leftovers for a meal. Living alone: I like them even less.

I like to clean the ample, mouthwatering servings from my plate, place my bread-mopped dishes in the dishwasher, and be done with the meal. For the next outing, I want something fresh. I want something inspiring. I want something new.

Does that make me spoiled? I don’t think so. I am culinarily spontaneous … gastronomically adventurous.

Now, truth be told… I do not prefer the unexplored food factions. I am a meat-and-potatoes kinda guy.

I feel no need to apologize for that.

I just blame Mom.

Written from a prompt found on

A 150 word prompt – and 10 word grace.

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