I was raised by a Depression-era grandmother who lived through the Japanese occupation and the Korean War. Like many of her generation, she was frugal and resourceful, and I never saw food thrown away.
Influenced by her and the 1980s TV ads showing starving children in Africa, I ate every grain of rice from my plate, grateful to have it in abundance. When I later learned that 30–40 percent of all food is wasted, it hit me like a shock—all that energy, resources, and money squandered, all those greenhouse gases from landfills.
There’s a Korean word that attaches a feeling to it: akkawo, the regret of a lost opportunity.
Growing a garden deepened this awareness. So much energy goes into readying the soil, planting, nurturing, and harvesting that using everything to its fullest feels like an obligation. What started as my happy hobby evolved into a personal mission to maximize every ingredient we harvest or buy. Our zero-waste philosophy means letting the harvest guide dinner, getting creative with leftovers, and lots of preserving.
Freezing is my preferred preservation method because it’s simple and convenient. Tender herbs that don’t have a lasting chance (tarragon, basil, Thai basil, mint, parsley, cilantro, chives, dill, fennel fronds) become compound butters and sauces like chermoula, zhoug, chimichurri, and pesto without any cheese—it keeps better this way. I mince cilantro with garlic, serranos, and lime juice, then freeze in ice cube trays for future salsas. Late-harvest cherry tomatoes transform into intensely flavored tomato confit.
I freeze pesto, tomato confit, and sauces in small mason jars or repurposed condiment jars. They’re the perfect size for dinner for two and are easy to give as little gifts (be sure to leave a little headroom to prevent cracking). Defrost overnight in the refrigerator or on the counter if you’re pressed for time. In a pinch, you can microwave it in short bursts on low power until thawed just enough to scoop; you don’t want to risk thermal shock or destroy the fresh flavor and color of the herbs by cooking.
I freeze raspberries in bags for coulis, smoothies, ice cream, and scones. I chop green onions and chives and freeze them in bagfuls as well. They keep for months and are easy to toss into omelets, soups, stir-fries, fried rice, and more. If you happen to have excess garlic, you can freeze it too: mince in a food processor, fill a bag halfway, remove the air, and flatten. Use the back of a knife to score portion sizes through the plastic. Once frozen, simply snap off what you need.
Stalks, stems, and peels also get a second life in our kitchen. Parsley stems, carrot ends, and fennel trimmings go into the freezer for stock—fennel especially makes a beautiful shellfish broth. Apple peels and cores are boiled, strained, and reduced into jelly that freezes well. And in late fall, my husband digs up our horseradish patch, and I peel and process the roots with vinegar and salt in a Vitamix (wearing ski goggles) before freezing in jars. That dramatic, pungent ritual marks the end of the growing season.
Every jar in our freezer represents not just preserved food, but preserved possibility and a small victory against waste. No akkawo here, just a feeling of mission-accomplished, and the promise that even in February, we’ll taste summer again.
