My mother, bless her heart, is afflicted with a common maternal compulsion: to load people up with edible things when they try to leave her apartment. Recently she appeared at the elevator with a giant hunk of ham, packed for travel. “I’ll never finish it! It’ll go bad!” she said.
I have to obey my dear little mother, right? So I ate the ham, usually standing at my kitchen counter, mustard jar beside me, over the next few days. At the end, I came to a big, pure white piece of fat. Sure, I had a nibble at that, but I was able to control myself. I wrapped up the fat and stuck it in the fridge, right next to the duck fat salvaged from a recent moulard leg braise.
Don’t throw out your fat, for the love of God. Fortify your greens, your beans, grains, and so on. It’s winter, after all. You need your strength, sweetie.