The Last Piece of Anything

Why doesn't anyone ever eat the last of anything? For Valentine's Day I made a dark chocolate cake with fudge frosting - rich and decadent. The three of us dove into the initial cuts with gusto, savoring the sweetness melting into vanilla bean ice cream for good measure. The next day, my son and hubby helped themselves to seconds leaving two large or three small pieces for day three. However, that day came and went and no one touched the cake. Day four also passed without anyone even uncovering the chocolate confection. On day five I offered to divide the remainder of the cake between them, but met with hems and haws. "Is there something wrong with it?" I queried.

"Oh no! It's great, but I don't want to eat more than my share," Jeff responded.

At this point I assured him there was plenty to go around, but even the boy remained skeptical. "Don't you want some?" he asked, as if waiting for the royal taste tester to prove it was safe.

"No." And therein lies part of the problem. Neither of the guys wants to be accused of taking my share, but both of them know I don't really want it.

Usually I overcome this dilemma by offering to divvy it up at the beginning of T.V. time. I get out three plates and say, "Who wants dessert while we watch a movie?" When they see more than two dishes, they eagerly agree before heading downstairs to prep the electronics. At this point I divide the remains in half and return the third plate to the cabinet. Problem solved.

Of course, this reticence to finish the last of food is not relegated to cake alone. Often leftovers disappear systematically from the fridge until only one serving remains. However, that one just sits and sits awaiting its fate at the hands of the mold monster. Maybe no one wants to rinse an empty dish and put it in the washer. Maybe everyone is tired of the food by the time only a single serving is left. Maybe we all feel like curly-tailed oinkers when we polish off a dish. (After all, if there is some left we couldn't have eaten too much.) This is perhaps the best explanation since I have seen my family pull a casserole out and take half of whatever portion is left - even if it is single serving size.

Whatever the reason, this conundrum has existed our entire married lives. (Come to think of it, Jeff's dad never wants to take the last of anything when we have them over for dinner. Wonder if passed along some don't-finish-off-the-food gene to Jeff.) Or maybe it goes back to the whole problem my guys have - had - have with leftovers. I guess I should just sacrifice myself for the cause and make it my mission to finish every last bite.