With many thanks to Boeing, I’ve finally discovered just the right terminology, as well as an explanation for what most of us experience on a recurring basis in our lives but didn’t know, until now, what to call it or that it’s apparently quite commonplace.

FOD; that’s what it is. Just plain old FOD.

From a recent article in another newspaper, “a review of manufacturing procedures at Boeing’s factories came after metal shavings were discovered inside the fuel tank of a new Japan Airlines 767 passenger jet during ground maintenance.

The FAA is looking at Boeing’s procedures for preventing what the industry calls FOD, or foreign object debris, meaning any material or object that isn’t supposed to be on the airplane when it leaves the factory.

It’s as simple as that. After all, we’ve all experienced FOD at one time or another. I frequently find FOD in unlabeled containers in my refrigerator, more often than not covered with green fuzz. And how many times have you opened a dusty old carton pulled from a corner of your garage or outdoor shed and wondered what in the world the stuff inside it is and why you still have it? It’s FOD, plain old FOD, and there’s no reason to keep it around.

It seems obvious that FOD has been happening on a fairly regular basis with airplanes, or happy with the idea that FOD may be rattling around in any plane in which I might be flying, so I’m glad they’re “looking at Boeing’s procedures” for preventing FOD. Perhaps they’ll come up with a process that we who face FOD in our homes and workplace can also implement to prevent it.

When I pulled open the glove compartment in the car I drive most of the time, looking for a misplaced key, I realized it was crammed full of FOD. Why is there only one black glove in there, along with a very old map of Chicago? An unidentified small black cylinder of something was under the map, as well as a round, flat container of some sort of ancient salve, which may or may not be the lip balm I lost a few years ago. FOD; all of it FOD, except for my extra sunglasses and the cellphone charger. No missing key, however.

For many of us, life is full of FOD, the detritus that gets left “somewhere” when we hurry off to do whatever it is we’re about each and every day. We don’t talk about it except to very close family members, and we learn to deal with it. But I find it somehow more acceptable now that I know that Boeing, and presumably other major manufacturers as well, are also fighting FOD.

And now I know what to call the strange implement that rests at the back of one kitchen drawer, a device we’ve had for years and I’ve never used because

I can’t remember what it was meant to do, but also don’t throw away because I may remember and need it, for something. It’s a bit of FOD, and now that I know what it is, I can toss it.

Thanks, Boeing; I hope you get your FOD problems fixed.

RECIPES

If there’s one place I may not want to find FOD, it’s in my food, unless I put it there deliberately.

That’s not to say it doesn’t happen; how many times have you left those bay leaves or sprigs of herbs in the soup you just put on the table, or found an unidentifiable bit of “foreign debris” in that big bowl of tossed green salad? And when I think back to some of the leftovers casseroles my mother came up with when I was a kid, I’d have called it FOD Casserole, but never, of course, told her that.

And hotdogs? Talk about foreign object debris, but calling them FODdogs is probably not a good idea. Not all FOD is unwanted, though; this soup is a great example of incorporating some very fine foreign object debris into a delicious concoction.

There are many versions of Minestrone, which is an Italian soup into which you can throw virtually any bit of edible debris you have available. This one is good either hot or cold.

MINESTRONE A LA MILANESE

¼ cup lardons* (use salt pork or bacon), optional, use olive oil instead, if preferred

2 cloves garlic

½ onion

1-2 fresh flat leaf parsley sprigs

1 celery stalk

3 tomatoes, peeled, seeded and diced

2 carrots, chopped

2-3 potatoes (depending upon size) peeled and chopped

2 zucchini, chopped

2 T. olive oil

1 ¾ cups fresh shelled peas (or use frozen)

1/2 of a Savoy cabbage, shredded

¾ cup beans of your choice (cannellini, lima, fava, etc.)

½ cup long grain rice

4 fresh sage leaves, chopped

6 fresh basil leaves, chopped

Salt, to taste

Freshly grated Parmesan cheese

*Lardons, readily available in Italian markets, are strips of lard or fat used to lace (or marble) meats; you won’t easily find them here, but salt pork or bacon works nicely.

Finely chop the lardons (or whatever you’re using instead) with the garlic and onion. If you’re just using olive oil, finely chop the garlic and onion. When the mixture is quite fine, add the parsley and celery and chop. Put olive oil in the soup pot (if you’re using that instead of the other); add chopped mixture, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, zucchini and eliminate the other 2 T. of olive oil. Pour in 8 ½ to 9 cups water, season with salt and bring to a boil over high heat. When mixture comes to a boil, reduce the heat; continue cooking the soup at a simmer for 2 hrs.

Add the peas, beans and cabbage; simmer for 15 min., then add the rice and continue to simmer, stirring occasionally, about 15 min., or until rice is tender. Stir in the herbs. Ladle into a soup tureen or individual bowls and serve with Parmesan cheese to sprinkle on top. This should be a fairly thick soup, good warm or cold, winter or summer; if you’d like it a bit thinner, add vegetable broth or chicken broth, or pour in some dry sherry. Serves 4-6.

As I said before, Minestrone is open to all bits of foreign object debris; leave it to the Italians to turn everyday vegetable “debris” into a one pot, hearty, healthy, tasty meal. When all else fails, make a pot of Minestrone; this one is Tuscan style.