Every week I have a Graze box delivered to my door. (It should be delivered through my door, but obviously, in line with everything else that doesn’t work properly in our house, the letterbox doesn’t let the letterbox-size box through…but it means I know who my postman is.) It’s like an exciting little surprise present of yumminess adding a frisson of joy to a Monday.
Obviously though, because it costs me £3.89 a week, Husband disapproves. Yep, he has an issue with £3.89. This is the man who took himself to Brazil. Who will happily spend £100 on a t-shirt as long as it used to cost £160. But I’m wasting money spending it on healthy snacks.
Naturally I nod my head – yes, it’s disproportionately costly compared with buying bags of nuts and seeds from the supermarket – but I still disagree with him.
For one thing eating my less-than-£1-a-snack snacks is cheaper and healthier than the bars of Green & Blacks chocolate I’d otherwise be eating. I’d be spending money, but I’m also saving money. (Which is an argument you’d think he’d understand as it’s surely the same justification he uses for his obscenely expensive t-shirts. When it comes to berries it’s not the same though, however. Whatevs. He’s a hypocrite. Therefore I win.)
My other argument is that supermarket dried fruit and nuts are only value for money if you actually eat them. As evidenced by the full tin in the kitchen of healthy snacks bought by Husband and then abandoned.
Although, possibly even more wasteful is the amount of fresh fruit that Husband buys that then sits and rots in the kitchen. And thus my argument for the delivery of my Graze boxes is brought to you through the medium of the Independence Day Mango.
Not that we mark Independence Day with the ritual purchase of a mango. But it was on 4th July that it appeared on the kitchen counter, emblazoned with a yellow discount sticker. Husband is a sucker for a discount sticker in the way some men can’t not grab a woman in a short tight dress. Ah, yes, in his mind he’s saving money. Even if it’s an item that we’ve never wanted or needed.
I knew as soon as I saw it that the mango would NOT be eaten. I just wanted to see how long it would become my kitchen companion for. The coconut Husband purchased hung around for so long I was almost bereft when it finally moved on to the council compost heap.
The Independence Day Mango is now past his Best Before date. I commiserate with a glass of wine.
I watch the tennis before we enjoy a barbecue. Mango is not part of the barbecue menu. Instead he gets friendly with the beetroot.
Often on a Monday I’ll cook a Thai-spiced chicken, mango and cashew nut salad. But the mango is looking a bit overripe yet it seems harsh to buy a new one whilst the old one is in residence. So I eat the beetroot in a salad with goats cheese instead.
The mango looks in serious need of a cellulite treatment. I’d throw it out, but I want Husband to be the one to do it, so I leave it on the side, moving it onto a chopping board lest it should start to leak. Eew.
Me: What exactly’s going on with the mango? Are you going to eat it or what? I definitely think it’s past its best.
Husband: Hmmm. You may be right.
Yet still the mango sits on the side.
I get home from work. Husband has been on strike – or it must be a blue moon – as he’s cooked. When I go into the kitchen I notice an absence. Where’s the mango? Surely Husband’s not eaten it? No. It’s IN THE BIN. Awww.
But worry not, Independence Day Mango. If I can use your existence as a demonstration to Husband on the reality of wasteage – you may have only cost 35p, but it was 35p that got thrown in the BIN – and why my Graze boxes aren’t an unjustifiable expense then your week-long presence in my kitchen has been worth it. Independence Day Mango, I thank you.