I've been eating a lot of parsley.
"Oh" you say, "Parsley is technically a food, I guess. Parsley, huh?"
I have! It's good! You get a great crisp bunch and pick off about a cup of the best leaves. You mix those leaves with your best oils and some very finely chopped onion or shallot and maybe a bit of orange or pear or sugar pea or artichoke heart and a dash of lemon juice and some salt and pepper and probably some cilantro or mint or shiso leaves: parsley salad. Absurdly good.
Two days later it's too limp for salads, so you chop it finely with onion and lemon and oil and salt and pepper and actual peppers, perhaps, and probably whatever other herbs you used two days ago and you have a gremolata which is a nice thing to put on your avocado salad, your avocados on toast, your poached eggs on toast, or your poached eggs on lentils. All of them are things I eat when I'm too tired to really cook - but this is a fancy dinner, don't you see the gremolata?
At the end of the parsley lifespan, you have several choices. You can make more pesto, if your husband didn't ask you to stop making pesto, please, let's just eat all the pesto in the freezer first. You can chop it and flick it over things to give them visual appeal. You can substitute parsley for celery in mire poix because you aren't buying celery for a while since the time you found five rotting heads of celery in your fridge. You can chop it up and make tabouli and then forget to photograph it until you're almost done eating because tabouli is delicious. Parsley is delicious. It tastes great.
Or you could throw it out. Parsley is like a dollar.