My wife and son went on vacation last Friday. I was left to my own devices (laptop, smartphone).

You probably think I spent my alone time having a series of mini-comas to catch up on all the sleep I’d lost during the last year of parenting. That’s because you haven’t met my brain.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Daniel’s brain. I like to keep Daniel awake with inconsequential crap like whether he remembered to cross out an item on his to-do list or whether he should consider starting a to-do list to keep track of crossed-out items on his other to-do lists. I am the worst.”

But enough about my early-stage psychosis. I’m here to talk about food. Specifically, food I discovered in our fridge when hunger finally compelled me to take action to fill my stomach.

I’ve meticulously cataloged no fewer than seven edible items from my fridge and reviewed my eating experience for your reading pleasure. Maybe these honest food reviews will help guide your own nutritional choices. (They won’t.)

Here we go: Seven honest reviews of food from my fridge. With pictures!

7. Mango body butter

Excellent first pick. Butter made from the body of a mango? Don’t mind if I do!

It smelled absolutely wonderful and was thick and creamy to the touch. How’d it taste?

Taste score

Try to recall the best ice cream you’ve ever had. Maybe it’s a delightful triple-chocolate gelato with crunchy brownies or a refreshing lemon sorbet.

Picture yourself scooping up a hefty helping of this deliciousness. Feel the cold air flowing gently over your fingers as you slowly move it over to your mouth. Savor the sweet mix of flavors as they tickle your taste buds.

Mmmmmmmm! Tastes fantastic, doesn’t it?

Anyways, back to the mango butter.

It’s shit.

It tasted like all of the terrible food choices you ever made had come together to form a giant food Voltron of sadness and regret. Then it puked up this mango butter. The texture was sticky and slimy, covering the inside of my mouth with a thick coat of goo that I couldn’t remove for hours.

Update: Ooooops! Nevermind. I am somewhat embarrassed to admit, but it turns out the mango body butter is a body moisturizer with a smell of mango. My wife keeps it in the fridge to keep it from melting. Now you know: Mango body butter isn’t butter at all.

Let’s move on.

6. Watermelon

It’s green. It’s round. It fits my palm. It sure is a watermelon.

Taste score

I was looking forward to reviewing the taste, but then I imagined the effort it’d take to cut it open and slice it into edible pieces. Nobody has that kind of time. Let’s just agree it tasted like a standard watermelon. Watery and sweet.

Hey, I promised honest food reviews. I never promised to actually eat every item on the list.

5. Crunchy peanut butter

Yes! Now this is a butter I can get behind.

You know exactly what this is. It’s peanut butter, and it’s crunchy.

Taste score

As you’d expect, it was delicious. Creamy, crunchy, peanut-y.

Yet throughout the meal, I couldn’t shake this nagging feeling that it wasn’t quite perfect. Something was missing.

Then it hit me:

Of course! The strawberry yin to peanut butter’s yang! All is right with the world again. 10/10. Would recommend.

4. This fucking thing

I don’t know what this is. My wife says they’re called “yams,” which sounds like baby slang for “pajamas.” I’m calling bullshit. Ha, “yams.” Yeah right.

I tried doing a reverse Google image search to identify the nature of this beast, and one of the results was this weird manatee sculpture made from a potato.

When I tried the image search again, it took me to a fringe porn side and infected my computer with 73 different Trojans (no pun intended).

Taste score

Needless to say, I have no clue what it tastes like. I buried this thing in a nearby park after the clock struck midnight.

We shall never speak of it again.

3. Poor man’s caviar

Don’t be misled by the fancy title. This is the cheapest caviar one can get one’s hands on. It’s salty balls with a fishy taste. (Which reminds me of that fringe porn site from the last entry. But I digress.)

If you were a Russian billionaire who ordered a jar of exotic caviar to be rushed to your mansion via two helicopters and a limo and they brought you this, “they” would be found frozen in the deep Tundra years later.

Taste score

You kidding me?! I love it. I buy it all the time. It’s perfect on crackers and bread. Never mind that the list of ingredients reads like a do-it-yourself poison kit. I’ll pick this over “yams” any day of the week.

Ha, “yams.”

2. Danish liquor brandy spirit firewater cognac

Let me give you a bit of background: This bottle lives in our fridge. It’s been in our fridge for as long as I can recall. I’m almost tempted to believe it was already there when we moved in about five years ago. Neither my wife nor I can remember where it came from, and neither of us is quite sure what it is. This is all completely true, by the way.

It’s definitely alcohol of some sort. The name—“brændevin”—has the Danish word for “wine” in it, but it’s not wine (note the 38% alcohol).

“Google it,” you say? Already did.

It’s like someone was rushing to fill in an alcohol Bingo card. Cognac! Brandy! Firewater! Spirit! I especially love the “Scandinavian liquor” line. It’s like saying “American meat” or “Australian fish” – I’d like a few more specifics before putting it in my mouth, thanks.

Let’s all agree that it’s a special type of strong brandy that’s enjoyed in Denmark and other parts of Scandinavia. “Brændevin” = “Brandywine”! Check and mate.

Taste score

Nope. Not trying it.

It’s lived in my fridge for this long. I sure as Hell won’t open it now and risk releasing whatever evil genie is trapped inside.

Have fun living inside my fridge for the next few millenia, Brandy Djinn!

1. Nathan’s breadsticks with cheese dip

These are my son’s crunchy breadsticks with cheese dip. Probably his favorite food.

These are sacred. I won’t steal food from my own son. What kind of father would do such a thing?!

Taste score

So I opened his breadsticks. I was hungry, okay? You don’t get full by looking at bottles of alcohol and burying “yams” in the night. I need nutrients. Don’t judge me.

Psyche!

I tricked you. I only opened the box to take that picture and make you think I ate my baby’s favorite meal.

I’m not a monster. I didn’t actually eat my son’s breadsticks.

I TOTALLY ATE MY SON’S BREADSTICKS!

Jesus, man, what the fuck is wrong with me?!

Actually…you know what? No! I’m not apologizing!

The breadsticks tasted great. Easily the best meal on this list after peanut butter and caviar.

Besides, Nathan isn’t here to claim them, is he? No, he’s not. He and his mom left me here all alone, trapped inside this apartment where unidentifiable items mock me from their fridge shelves.

I did what I had to do. I did what any of you would do.

To survive.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go see if Nathan has some baby fruit smoothies stashed away somewhere.