
The Forgotten Kitchen
Better than thirty scraps, two chapters deep. Beet tops, broccoli stems, cabbage core, potato peel, onion skins, citrus peel, leek greens, herb stems, apple cores. Each one names what you bin and what they charge you for it.
The water you pour down the drain. Bones, drippings, a grease crock kept right. Eggshell, coffee grounds, wood ash.
Stale bread, soured milk, limp vegetables, honey gone hard — and a straight list of what does not come back. A hard rule on the seeds and pits you must never eat.
A whole week written out from one chicken and a bag of potatoes. Two tear-out pages at the back for the cupboard door.
No garden anywhere in it. Everything here works with food you carry home from the store.

