Dark tales from the spice cabinet

This week, I was going to tell you a story about how I almost poisoned my husband with expired spices and my daughter probably saved his life, and how nobody was surprised about any of it.

Then a whole bunch of important things happened.

So, what I have decided to do is tell you the story about the spices, because it turns out we’re being trained up to think everything is super important, when what’s really important right now is that spices have an expiration date.

First, did you know that because I didn’t until my daughter FaceTimed me last weekend and it turned out to be a thing.

Bobby was at work, and being a wife who will not go down in history as a woman who only cooks at fast food joints, I was preparing a brisket for dinner that night. Gosh, it’s probably been a year since I cooked.

Karilea FaceTimes me often because she knows I have a mortal fear of my sweet grandsons not knowing who I am. I propped my phone up against a canister while I prepared the brisket and adored her and little Jack. Eli was at school and didn’t get to witness this epic takedown of his Ya Ya.

I put the brisket in the pan - fat side up, of course - and had my spices lined up as we chatted. It was going OK until I got to the onion power, and it wouldn’t shake out because it was all kind of frozen in suspended animation. While I talked to my girl, I stuck a knife in there to break it up and she asked what I was doing with the same look she gave me the day she taught me how to use hairspray like a post-1999 woman.

“What is the expiration date on that?” She kind of impolitely asked.

“Spices expire? Oh! 2014.”

Very long story short, we went through my entire spice cabinet and 10 bottles of various spices had to be disposed of. A couple, I’m not even sure why I had them, were so old I suspect they had seen action in the spice trade route in the 1700’s.

I seriously thought only spices, cockroaches and Twinkies were allowed to exist without an expiration date, like they just existed until they didn’t anymore.

In my defense, nobody has probably ever died from expired spices, but you cannot search engine that question without getting more answers for “can you die from eating too many peppers?”

I mean, I’m not Robert Johnson, I don’t even eat peppers on purpose. But apparently hot peppers are a much bigger foodbourne threat than the geriatric spices in my cabinet.

Fun fact because we are nothing if not educational: Cinnamon was the first known spice traded in the 1500’s, and one of the few fresh spices I now own, next to my salt and pepper..

I think it’s obvious to everyone that I don’t have my food handler’s license, but you can bet I know most of the people in the area who do.