One time, I accidentally left (free range!) chicken soup on the counter for 6 hours when I passed out asleep from exhaustion. I express this disappointment to my landlord with whom I live, because now the soup is very risky to eat. Older wealthy straight white man doesn’t understand why. I mention the I thought well-known recommendation of and restriction of not eating meat that’s sat out for over 20 minutes. The man responds, “Boy, you come up with more rules than….”
“Because the chicken soup maybe should not be eaten?”
“You just come up with all kinds of rules….”
Have you ever heard of OSHA? Ohhhh, that’s right, Mr. Land-Owning Parents Then Became Investment Broker **never had to work in a kitchen** for a job. Oh, and additionally, he’s hardly ever seriously cooked (parentis-in-loco in his frat in college; wives after that). But, of course, I couldn’t possibly have any knowledge, or sound ideas…. Can you smell the aroma that for milennia has floated through kitchens and wafted through households and cafeterias, restaurants and business dinners and front lines, the applied default accusation of “hysterical woman”?
“It’s not my rule.” I explain the basic biological notion behind the 20 minutes that common food bacteria reproduce every 20 minutes, and the amount of or proportion of bacteria in the food will likely be too much for the gut to handle.
Now, ironically, from having spent most of my life through now extremely poor to definitely poor, I have a strong gut from having to eat old food, and from the privilege of my parent having breastfed and cared about her children’s health. I can’t afford to waste the food; I’m already sick, though! I’m already sick, anyway :-/ I will eat the 6-hours-left-out chicken soup. It’s not my gut I’m worried about; it’s consuming such chicken soup for the soul.