The first clue was the mango sorbet. I pulled the container out of the freezer, and it sloshed.

“Hmm. That’s strange,” I thought. “I must not have closed the freezer door all the way.”

The compressor was going, and cold air was blowing out of the vent. So I carefully shut the door and put it out of my mind.

The next morning, I checked. There seemed to be a pool of pink sticky stuff on the bottom. “Gee,” I thought. “The sorbet must have leaked.” But the compressor was running, with cold air blowing out of the vent. So I mopped up the sticky stuff and shut the door and put it out of my mind again.

They say the first stage of dealing with grief is denial. And my refrigerator was about to give me plenty of grief.

The next time I checked, I noticed that all the ice was melted, and some things in the freezer had started to thaw. Global warming had hit home. The air coming out of the vent was still cold. It just wasn’t ice cold. I finally admitted it was time to call in the refrigerator doctor. Fortunately, they still make house calls.

Duane, the repair guy, showed up to take a look. He pulled the fridge out into the room, in the process, revealing a rather disgusting mass of dirt and fuzz that had accumulated on the floor below. (Note to self: Move fridge and clean under it more than once a decade).

It’s terminal, he said.

“How can that be?” I screamed, moving quickly into the anger stage. “It’s only nine years old! The compressor’s running and cold air is blowing out of the vent!”

Turns out the fact that the compressor was running was actually the worst possible symptom. The fridge was hovering near death. Duane recommended taking it off life support. It would cost more to repair it than to replace it.

He left, and I retreated back into anger. Duane was a quack. He didn’t know what he was talking about. I’d show him. I ran to the computer to look up “refrigerator — troubleshooting” and self-diagnosed. “Aha!” I said. “All that fuzz and dirt under the fridge is the real problem. It’s blocking the air intake. I’ll vacuum it out and everything will be fine.”

An hour later, after vacuuming and washing up more pink goo (which was now dripping out the door onto the floor), I was sure I was right. The compressor was purring and the freezer felt cold. Well, cool. But I was pretty sure it was colder than before. At least all the defrosted food in it was still at refrigerator temperature. I moved into the bargaining stage.

“You go on keeping everything cold, and I’ll cook the stuff that has defrosted and clean you up, and with the improved air flow, you’ll be better in no time. Hang on. I know you can make it,” I told the fridge. I started pulling stuff out and prepared to get busy cooking.

I bet a lot of people have actual food in their freezers. Things in neat, colorful packages you could pull out and stick directly in the microwave and eat, without too much effort. But not me. My freezer was chock full of nothing but ingredients. Weird, unrelated ingredients.

It’s amazing how much you can cram into a freezer. A partial inventory: baby squid; banana leaves; ground veal; ground pork; artichoke hearts; puff pastry; phyllo dough; chicken stock; fresh tomato sauce; homemade applesauce; cherries from my tree; peaches from a friend’s tree; three green blobs later identified as kaffir limes; egg whites; two bags of peas; two sizes of shrimp; a disk of demi-glace; and the flattened, pathetic remains of four fruit-flavored popsicles — the source of the growing pool of sticky pink stuff. They really should wrap them better.

I threw the fruit into a pan to make jam, made soup out of the peas and chicken stock, and cooked up meatballs with the pork and veal, topping them with the tomato sauce. The coolish air was still pumping out — the other items would be OK for a few days longer. But denial has its price: it was too late to save the frozen spinach and the squid, and any number of other oddities. Not to mention the popsicles.

Even so, there was still a lot left. In the next three days I got creative, and pretty much ate the entire remaining contents of the freezer. Those mostly aren’t recipes I’ll proudly share (or ever repeat) — some of the combinations were bizarre, and a few inventions went into the garbage after a single taste. But I persisted. After all, I had made a bargain with the appliance gods. I knew that once I emptied the shelves, the freezer would get colder, and it would be back to normal shortly.

But it didn’t happen. No matter how often I checked, the air stayed merely chilly.

I moved into the depression stage. I had gained five pounds (the puff pastry filled with peach-cherry jam was actually quite tasty) and wiped up an ocean of pink goo — and the patient wasn’t responding.

I had another chat with Duane, and he helped me to finally reach the final stage: acceptance. I admitted it was time to pull the plug. I called Sears and ordered a replacement.

But the nightmare wasn’t over. When they scheduled delivery, I suddenly realized I’d have to clean out the refrigerator compartment, too. Which was even more packed than the freezer had been.

You can learn a lot about yourself by looking at your fridge. Now that I’m through my grief counseling, I admit I’m ready for some more self-help.

Is there a 12-step program for condiment addicts?

———

I think I can safely skip the Mustard Festival for the next five years. I found 14 jars of mustard stashed in the fridge, not to mention four kinds of chutney and eight different hot sauces.

Just in case I can’t kick the habit, I decided to make room for more by using up the current stash as fast as I can. This chicken is a winner — even worth buying a jar of mustard for if you don’t happen to have my vast reserves. I don’t know who first came up with this simple recipe; it came to me from a friend who found it years ago in a newspaper, and many versions of it are floating around the Web. I’m passing it on because if it isn’t already in your repertoire, it should be. It’s the perfect, simple, week-night dish.

Honey-Mustard Baked Chicken

3 lbs. cut up chicken pieces, with the skin on*

3 Tbsp. butter

1/2 cup honey

1/4 cup Dijon mustard

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 1/2 tsp. curry powder

1 tsp. salt

1 large pinch cayenne

2-3 shallots, thinly sliced

*I used thighs. If you prefer white meat and want to use boneless breasts, make sure you get ones with the skin on.

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Melt the butter in the microwave (about 1 minute). Add the honey, mustard, garlic, curry powder, cayenne and salt, and mix well. Heat for another 30 seconds or so, until warm and well blended.

Place the chicken pieces in a single layer in a baking dish, skin side up. (If you have too much chicken for one pan, use two — don’t overlap the pieces.) Pour the warm honey-butter-mustard mixture over the chicken, spreading to coat the pieces thoroughly. Sprinkle the sliced shallots on top.

Bake for 45 minutes, basting every 10-15 minutes. Then turn the heat up to 400 F., baste one last time, and bake for about 15 minutes more, until the skin is golden brown and starting to get crisp.

Serve with rice or noodles. Separate the pan juices from the fat and use the juices as a sauce.

Serves 4.