I Will NEVER Look At My Fridge The Same Way Again

Photographed by Alice Gao.
I've never really been interested in horoscopes, astrological signs, or any kind of readings. It's not that I'm a total skeptic — just dubious. As an Aquarius, I’m supposed to be an absent-minded genius, which is not accurate, whatsoever. I've never paid money to have my palm read, my fortune told, or my chart done. (My dad texts me photos of my horoscope in the Los Angeles Times when they happen to relate perfectly to my life, but I'm guessing for every spot-on iPhone pic, there are plenty he passes over.) So, how in the world did I end up having my fridge read by a chef-astrologer? A few months ago, I got to interview my food idol, Ruth Reichl. We were talking about her latest book, but the most interesting part of the conversation by far was when she started telling me that she could tell a lot about someone's personality by the contents of their fridge. Are they organized, do they hold on to old condiments, is their fridge really just a storage place for nail polish? That interview got me thinking, Could I find someone to do an actual fridge reading? After asking everyone I knew to no avail, some intensive googling led me to Sabra Ricci, author of Lobster For Leos, Cookies For Capricorns. (Her Twitter bio reads: "Private Celebrity Chef Astrologer/Writer," which couldn't have been more perfect.) We exchanged a few emails (including one where I sent her several photos of my fridge and a lengthy description of what was in it) and before I knew it, I was participating in my first-ever reading — and it ended up going down a very different path than I was expecting. The first question Ricci asked me based on my fridge photos was, "Do you live with someone else?" I told her I live with my boyfriend. Then, I got an immediate pit in my stomach. I hadn't thought about the fact that we weren't just talking about my fridge before I went down this rabbit hole. Suddenly, I realized this reading wasn't going to be about my personality — this was going to be about our relationship. First, she tells me what she thinks about the photos I sent over. Then, she wants to do my astrological chart to compare and contrast the findings. Except now, we need to do a joint chart, since that makes the most sense. I turn bright red just thinking about it. Whelp, there's no turning back now. According to Ricci, my fridge is an excellent portrayal of, "Someone who’s really into food, into comfort foods, into cooking, but also a variety of cuisines." She explains that you can tell a lot about someone from their condiments — and my boyfriend and I have a lot of them. She says we love to cook, but we are practical. We have a lot of the same foods you'd find "in a chef’s refrigerator," but that our food is very "down to earth." Unlike some people, who have lots of fancy ingredients, we are making real, sensible meals.

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So far, I have to admit I agree with everything she's saying. She says the one thing that doesn't match up is that typically, my Cancer boyfriend would be doing all of the cooking as a nurturer; and that as an Aquarius, I would be really into the idea of great food and learning about it, but too much of a space cadet to actually prepare it. While my boyfriend does cook more than me on a daily basis, we're both pretty confident in the kitchen. Plus, there’s the fact that my entire professional life revolves around food. Now, it's time to run our charts. At this point, she asks me to describe my boyfriend to her, because I can’t give her his exact time of birth. Everyone sitting around me at work starts looking at me like I've gone off the deep end. "Yes, dark hair, blue/green/gray eyes depending on what he’s wearing. No, I don't know the exact location of his birth." Oh, boy. When she runs our charts together, she says it all makes sense. We're "the perfect foodie couple." At this point, I would like to publicly apologize to my boyfriend, who in no way signed up for this. Also, if anyone in a normal conversational situation called us a foodie couple, there would definitely be some serious eye-rolling involved. But this is not my normal life, so naturally, I ask to hear more. Ricci tells me that he is the spontaneous one in the kitchen and I am an avid rule follower. (True, I tend to freak out when anyone tries to stray from a recipe.) That for him, food is a hobby and a comfort. For me, it's more analytical. Also true. She also throws in a few, ahem, more personal details; that I have a lot going on in my life and have the potential to be a "powerhouse." He is also going to be very successful and wants to marry me and have kids. Not exactly what I was expecting to hear, based on the fact that I've got eggs, spinach, and sliced mushrooms on hand. After I hung up the phone, I felt like my fridge had opened the door to a much broader conversation about my life. I downloaded my coworkers on the call and proceeded to sit at my desk for the next hour with a glazed look in my eyes, not getting anything done. Was my boyfriend really thinking about marriage and kids ? What does being a "powerhouse" mean for my career? But I guess that's what you get when you seek out a professional to tell you what your blood oranges and fresh mozzarella mean. From now on, I think I'll stick to cooking the contents of my fridge instead of trying to find deeper a meaning underneath all those leftovers. Am I any less of a skeptic now? I guess that all depends on how the rest of my life plays out.

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