I had a roommate once who would never take the last bite of anything. She thought it was bad luck.

I was constantly spotting promising-looking containers in the fridge — only to discover they contained just a tablespoon of cottage cheese, or a tiny dollop of ice cream or a forlorn heel of bread.

Once, there was a single piece of bologna left in the package. The next time I looked, she had torn off half and eaten it. I checked the remnant again later and it was down to a quarter. Then an eighth. Finally, when it was nearly invisible, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I put us both out of her misery by popping the last shred in my mouth and finishing it.

Because I’m the opposite. I don’t believe that bad luck is lodged in that last delicious morsel. And I have a very strong need for closure.

I think I have a mild case of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Actually, I suspect my chums might tell you it’s not all that mild. (Hey guys, what’s up with that? I thought you were my friends.)

Alas, my OCD does not take a very useful form. It does not cause me to keep my house tidy, or alphabetize my spice drawer so I can actually find the cinnamon when I need it, or organize my plastic containers so they don’t fall on my head every time I open the cabinet. It does not keep newspapers and mail from piling up, or clutter from spreading to every horizontal surface.

But it’s there for sure, tugging at me whenever there’s a loose end around.

Sometimes it comes in handy, like when I’m editing. (Don’t even think of leaving an incomplete sentence fragment anywhere in my vicinity.) But otherwise, its main visible manifestations are that I will not give up until every last square of the crossword puzzle is filled in. And that I really, really like to use things up.

Interestingly, this doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy leftovers. I usually cook more than I need for a meal because I like seeing all those tidy FoodSavers lined up, filled with instant gratification when I raid the fridge the next day. But I try not to cook massive amounts, because if there’s a lot left, I’m prone to overeat. You see, the real satisfaction for me isn’t from the food. It comes when I pile the emptied containers into the dishwasher.

I just love to finish things. When I finally come to the end of a jar of jam, all’s right with the world. Ditto with the last squeeze of ketchup, the last scrape of mayonnaise, the last few drops of olive oil. And could there be anything more satisfying than ripping off the paper tube and popping in a nice new fat roll of paper towels?

I’m an avid recycler, but I don’t think the reason is my fervid environmentalism. The musical clink of an empty can when I toss it in the blue bin is my true reward.

Ironically, I have an equally strong instinct to stock up. If you were to peek into my crowded cabinets, you’d find practically every ingredient known to man, in triplicate. Every storage space in my house is crammed with potential edibles. It gives me great pleasure to see the array on the shelves, ready to sustain me when the Big One hits. I have nothing but warm feelings about all those lovely jars, cans, bags and packages.

Right up to the moment they are opened.

After that, the magic is gone. I want them finished up, emptied, recycled and out on the curb. It’s all or nothing with me.

But try telling that to the cats.

I’ve been meaning to sit down and have a long talk with them, to lay down some house rules. Vince and Theo, my two official feline boarders, act like my old roommate, fearful about taking the last bite. When they wander away, there’s almost always something left on the plate, sending my OCD into overdrive.

Fortunately, Eddie’s usually scratching at the door, ready and willing to come in and play clean-up.

He may be a black cat, but he clearly doesn’t believe there’s anything unlucky about free food.

Baked Mushrooms a la Julia Child

One of the great things about this dish is that I have never yet had any left over. They’re simple and reliably delicious. Better yet, you can do all the preparation in advance, making them great for carefree entertaining.

This recipe, adapted from Julia Child’s “The French Chef Cookbook,” is basically mushrooms stuffed with flavored butter. Feel free to experiment with substituting other herbs. Next time I make it I plan to use fresh tarragon in addition to the parsley.

Makes 12 appetizers

12 1/4-inch slices of fresh baguette (look for as round a baguette as you can find, aiming for slices approximately the same diameter as the mushrooms)

12 3-inch diameter mushrooms, stems removed

6 Tbsp. butter plus butter for toasting the bread

2 Tbsp. finely chopped parsley (and/or other herbs)

2 Tbsp. finely minced shallot

Salt and pepper

1 1/2 tsp. lemon juice

2 Tbsp. heavy cream

Preheat oven to 400° F.

In a sauté pan over medium heat, melt about a tablespoon of butter and toast the bread slices on both sides (adding more butter if needed) until they are lightly browned. (Or just toast the bread on a pan in the oven and lightly butter it — but the sauté method is more delicious.)

Mix together the 6 tablespoons of butter, shallot, parsley and lemon juice with salt and pepper to taste, until the mixture is softened and well-mixed.

In a casserole or other baking dish with a tight-fitting lid, place the rounds of toast in a single layer (you might need to use more than one casserole dish), topping each with a mushroom cap, curved side down. Fill each cap with some of the butter mixture, then drizzle about 1/2 teaspoon of cream on top of each one.

Cover tightly and bake for 20-25 minutes, until mushrooms are soft but not limp. Serve immediately.

Betty Teller is still hunting for the cinnamon. If you’d like to help her alphabetize her spices, contact her at amuse-bouche@sbcglobal.net.