When my Mom was still living in her home of 50 years, we’d have occasional “tiffs”. One that came up often was about the closet full of Tupperware and plastic containers. Everywhere I looked there was “stuff” and I knew that one day soon it would all have to go. I had the idea that it would be good if we could begin to work on decluttering but that idea was met with resistance in animated discussions.
My mom had run Tupperware parties in the 1960s, and added to those leftovers were many other plastic containers. My father had died. My mom was no longer cooking or leaving the house, so there was no need for her to have containers for sharing food with someone else. As far as I was concerned the only legit plastic containers were those in her fridge containing heat and serve meals that my brother and I “delivered” weekly.
None of my rational arguments worked. Because we talked about the stuff so often, she knew what was in the container closet and I could not even sneak some of it out of the house. One day, at peak exasperation, I looked at the closet and estimated that it would take me less than fifteen minutes to put the contents in the garbage “when the time came” (sorry Mother Nature). I gave in.
We emptied her house in 2017. Some of the contents landed in my house, becoming my clutter. If that’s not bad enough, I’ve been pondering that I too seem to have a thing about containers – eek!
I did not personally experience The Great Depression, but was close to my grandparents who did. Their motto seemed to be - save, save, save. Before “baggies” my grandmother saved every bag from Wonder bread – she washed them and hung them on the clothesline to dry. Beer bottles were saved for storing homemade tomato sauce.
I definitely inherited the mindset of pondering whether or not a thing might “come in handy” one day. If the answer was yes or maybe, it became a keeper – even though “one day” often never came.
At least the mason jars were authentic – and I now have a motherlode of those – some being used, some waiting to be inherited by I don’t know who.
Manufacturers also primed us for collecting. I still have pink and pale blue towels that my grandmother collected from boxes of powdered laundry detergent, and at least one “mug” that had been purchased filled with Billy Bee honey. I doubt that Crown Royal Whiskey came up with the idea – but that purple bag held all my marbles – and may still be in my house somewhere.
I admit to “having a thing” about boxes. Until IKEA came along, it was not that easy to get storage boxes that are now everywhere. I’m pretty sure my love of boxes came from Captain Kangaroo. He would reach under his counter and pull out a shoe box that was filled with pencils, crayons, scissors, glue, tape – things you’d need for a wee craft activity. (Google Hasbro Captain Kangaroo TV Sho Box Activity Kit – I never knew it had been retailed.) I made my own craft box. And thus the “box thing” began. When older, I had a few nice pairs of shoes that I kept in their shoe boxes. I recall papering the shoe boxes to make them prettier in my organized closet.
Before continuing I’d like to say that unlike my mother I can part with my containers more easily – I think… When Son #2 was in NYC for almost a decade I often sent parcels and therefore saved boxes that would suit that purpose. I hung on to the collection of unused boxes a bit too long – I think they’re all gone now.
As for cookie tins… that’s another story. I recently read an article about how many people use Royal Dansk cookie tins for home sewing kits. I don’t think we ever bought those cookies. My cookie tin source has been President’s Choice. Those Belgian chocolate cookies have, over the years, come in various tins and I tend to save them because they “come in handy” once a year.
Because I go nutty at Xmas making too many cookies I will for a period of 6 weeks need about 15 tins. Each year I gift at least 5, though they tend to boomerang. Just last week, someone “kindly” returned a cookie tin. That collection of tins is begging to be purged.
Metal containers I “admired” also included Illy coffee cans – elegant and sturdy with a beautiful lid. I kept trying to think of what business one could start that would make use of those containers. They finally exited the house.
Plastic? Because I do share food a lot, I began to accumulate reusable plastic takeout containers. The rationale was that if it wasn’t a Rubbermaid no one would feel pressure to return the container. I have to say that since the pandemic, many restos adopted very nice takeout containers. I have a lot, but could part with them anytime – whew, maybe I’m not becoming my mother after all.
Except for the jars… Did I inherit a penchant for jars? My Dad collected Miracle Whip jars in order to make his revolving odds and ends storage gadget - captured for posterity in this video created by my nephew and narrated by my brother.
I never intentionally collected glass jars, but for a while we bought Grolsch beer with that funky flip-top – how can you throw that away? For years I didn’t – until I recently gave them a thorough cleaning and gifted them to someone who uses them for maple syrup.
Glass is easy to discard in the blue box with some confidence it will be recycled, but some seem too lovely for that. I used to be hooked on the Bon Maman jars – and from what I have read online it seems I’m not the only one. Dalmatia fig spread jars were nice enough to keep, but I finally got over them
What I have not been able to toss into the garbage are my Maison Riveria “petit pots” - that contained delicious yogurt.
I’d not before read the pitch on their website – though it does seem to capture some of the sentiments the adorable wee jars trigger. “…inspired by Old World refinement. The concept of a glass “petit pot,” having finally crossed the ocean, can now make its way onto our tables to the great delight of discerning gourmets… poetry in the form of a jar, a glass petit pot lets you see what’s in store before you enthusiastically break through the seal of quality. A lid you carefully pull open, slowly revealing the treasure that awaits you within. A little spoon you sink in and clink against the glass. Everything about the Petit Pot Collection appeals to the senses and enriches the taste experience.”
The more I ate their yogurt the more the collection grew. In the end, I found it to be easier to stop eating their yogurt than to trash the wee jars. A bit of a marketing flaw, I’d say. A couple sit on my desk holding pens and paperclips. I bought matching lids from the company (12 for $3) and finally stored the rest way on top of my kitchen cupboards.
Then one day I got hooked on ordering food from PORTA. They have four delicious desserts that come (frozen) in the same petit pots. Oh no!! My unintended collection began to grow again.
But then I was inspired. Their panna cotta was lovely – and I had a recipe for that. I began to make it and fill the petit pots – and even freeze them. Check out the recipe here. Maybe one day I will surprise you with some – as long as you promise not to return the jar!
