This is the fridge’s finest hour. A bowl of cranberry sauce full to the brim; shards of cold roast goose, turkey perhaps; some cold roast potatoes, craggy and golden, and, joy of joys, a saucer of cold pigs-in-blankets. There is bread sauce in a gravy boat, a piece of cold salmon, brandy butter and even a jug of Marsala-laced gravy. Treats beyond measure.
There is nothing, simply nothing, I like doing in the kitchen more than picking at leftovers. Those bowls with saucers for lids, keeping the buried treasure safe until we are ready to eat. A ready-made breakfast, a midnight treat, bounty to pick at for the quiet days that follow the feast.
There are no rules. (Though I should warn you to sniff everything first.) If you want to add a dollop of cranberry sauce to a fry-up of cold roast potatoes and sprouts, go for it. Likewise bread sauce as a dip for crisp-fried turkey skin or the last of the nut roast crumbled into a pilaf.
