Freezerhope

freezerhope (FREE-zer-hope), noun. The optimistic conviction, held for months and sometimes years, that the frosted white box behind the peas is a portion of something excellent that you were sensible enough to save. It has no label. It has a thin crust of ice on the lid. Nobody in the house can remember putting it there, and yet everybody is quietly certain that, whatever it is, it will be delicious when the moment finally comes.

The word joins freezer with hope, in the strict sense of a belief that survives only because it has never been tested. It is related to cupboardfaith, which concerns a jar with no date on the lid, and to the far more dangerous fridgeconviction, which lasts hours rather than years and usually ends badly. Freezerhope, by contrast, is patient, cold and very long-lived, like the freezer itself.

The container is never opened, because opening it would end the possibility. While it stays closed, it might be the good stew, the spare slice of birthday cake or the sauce that came out perfectly that one time. Once it is open, it is almost always half a pot of stock. Households therefore develop an unspoken policy of choosing something else, and the box gains seniority. At six months it is still a possibility. At two years it has become part of the family furniture.

Usage: “Three generations of freezerhope came to an end on a Tuesday night when the freezer was defrosted, and the container was found to hold two ice cubes and a bay leaf.” The event is remembered in some families with genuine sorrow. Afterwards, the woman who cleared the freezer labelled every new container she put back, in large, clear handwriting, while her relatives watched from the next room and mourned the loss of the mystery.

Behind the joke is a very common kitchen habit. Freezing leftovers is a sensible way to save food and time, but containers often go in without a label, and a few months later, frosted over and pushed to the back, they can be almost impossible to identify. It is easy to keep putting off the decision about what to do with them. Plenty of households have at least one mystery box that everyone has quietly agreed not to ask about.

So if your freezer contains a container of hope, there is a simple cure. Take it out, let it thaw, and find out what it really is. It may be a wonderful surprise, or it may be stock. Either way, the next time you freeze something, reach for a pen and write the name and date on the lid. Your future self will thank you. It will not be quite as exciting, but it is far more likely to end in dinner.