Illustration by Michael Hoeweler; Collage by Lille Allen
The freezer must be a sacred and communal space for pizzas and ice cream
Welcome to Rules of Consumption, a column where Eater staff writer Amy McCarthy answers any and all questions you have regarding dining etiquette. Have a conundrum? Email advice@eater.com for answers.
Dear Amy,
Like every millennial, I have been a renter my entire adult life, and usually have had roommates in those apartments. Those arrangements have always gone pretty well — until I moved in with Persephone*. Persephone and I have been acquaintances for years, but that didn’t necessarily prepare us for living together. We are, I fear, the Odd Couple without the charisma. I’m neat, Persephone’s messy. I stay up late, Persephone wakes up early. But where things have really gotten weird is in the kitchen.
I cook a lot, Persephone doesn’t. What she does do is fill every inch of our small apartment freezer with various frozen foods — think pizzas, dumplings, microwavable meals. There’s also tons of unrecognizable stuff — half-eaten containers of takeout leftovers, random slices of bread, foil-encased mystery lumps, and it’s just overwhelming. I can barely open the freezer without a cascade of frozen crap falling on my head, much less put any of my own stuff in there, and Persephone just doesn’t seem to care. When I ask for space, she just tells me that I’ve got the fridge all to myself — not helpful, you can’t freeze soup for later in the fridge — and that she’ll clean it out “eventually.” We’ve been living together for over a year now, and “eventually” has not yet come.
How in the world am I supposed to share freezer space with this person? Short of setting up a dividing line right in the middle of the freezer floor, how do I go about getting Persephone to clean up her act — and reclaim my freezer space?
Signed,
No Chill, No Freezer
Dear No Chill,
Phew! This is a tough one. Also, I think I might be your roommate. My own freezer is so jam-packed with random odds and ends and foil-encased mystery lumps that your letter left me feeling a little bit attacked. But I don’t have to share space with a roommate, thankfully, and thus, I’m not acting like an asshole. Persephone, on the other hand, is being really thoughtless — even if she doesn’t realize it.
Persephone’s freezer-hoarding habit is most likely absent-minded. As you mentioned, she doesn’t cook, so it makes sense that she’d have a lot of frozen food. She probably thinks she’s being both frugal and sustainable when she saves all those random pieces of bread, even though they probably never end up getting eaten. But the result of all that frugality is really inconveniencing you, No Chill, and that’s not okay.
Unfortunately, I think the “drawing a line down the length of the freezer floor” strategy might actually be a good one. You’re going to have to talk to her about this situation first, though. Describe exactly how not having access to the freezer has made it difficult for you to cook and preserve the food you want to eat. Remind her that you’re both equals in your apartment, and she’s been taking up more space than she’s entitled to. Hopefully, if she’s a decent person, she’ll get it together and make space for your stuff.
If she doesn’t, well, you’re going to have to be a bit more forceful. If your freezer has shelves, that makes the situation a little easier — just tell Persephone you’re going to take over exactly half of the shelves, and give her a week or so to clean it out. If your freezer doesn’t have shelves, let Persephone know that you’re planning to purchase two of these deep storage bins, or whatever fits your freezer set-up, one for each of you. Fill yours with as many bags of frozen veggies and pints of ice cream as you choose. Even if you’re not fully utilizing your space all the time, it’s still your space, and whatever doesn’t fit in Persephone’s area is her problem.
Depending on Persephone’s reaction, this whole process might be a little awkward, but having your own dedicated freezer space is worth a few passive-aggressive comments or a week of the silent treatment.
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike.
Michael Hoeweler is a lifestyle illustrator who loves to make work of and about people, nature, food, fashion, and more. He spends his days with his partner Billy and their two cats just outside of NYC, in Bloomfield, New Jersey.
