Some time ago, I can’t remember how long, I went to the store and picked up a package of fresh mozzarella with some grandiose plan of using it in a gourmet meal.
I know we used some of it for one dish – of course I can’t remember what it was – but we didn’t use it all. The remainder got wrapped in damp paper towel and zipped into a plastic baggie and tossed into the cheese bin – where it was forgotten. Several days ago, Keith and I started noticing a sour smell from the refrigerator every time the door opened. I cleared off shelves, found some spilled buttermilk, wiped it off and figured that must have been it.
On Saturday, when I went to the grocery list, I ran across “mozzarella.” Everything clicked into place.
I rushed to the cheese bin, unearthed the long-forgotten mozzarella ball that, by now, resembled something more like Bleu Cheese than Mozzarella.
The mystery of the fridge-stank was solved.
I couldn’t bring myself to open the zippie bag the cheese was in – given the odor already coming off of it.
At 11 p.m., it was too late for me to walk down to the trash bins in our apartment complex, so I tossed the bag into a couple grocery bags and tied it up, hoping to keep the stink to a minimum. I put it back in the fridge – and, the next morning – presented it to Keith to walk down to the trash. (As our luck would have it, we had just taken out the trash earlier Saturday.)
The stench has finally cleared from the fridge. And, while I don’t see this happening again, the next time we have left over fresh mozzarella, we’ll use it so we don’t lose it.