HELP, I'VE BEEN PICKLED!

 
For those of you who have known me since I was a delightful child (yes delightful I said!), I have had an affinity for pickles, and as I have gotten older, this affinity has turned into an obsession and passion in finding the perfect pickle.

Over my life I have been accused of hiding pickles, drinking pickle juice, eating part of the pickle and putting the “bum” back in the jar, and even eating the last pickle and leaving the jar in the fridge.  But I am here to set the record straight.  Yes I am obsessed.  No, contrary to popular belief, I do not drink pickle juice (although I may have had a shot or two of it when I was child).  No, I never stole that jar of pickles at my childhood friend’s home and hid it somewhere (come on, even I have some decorum people!).  No, I don’t leave the bums in the jars (good lord, I like the entire part of the pickle).

While yes, I will admit that it is true that I like to put mayonnaise on my pickles, cuts the acidic content and provides a very creamy pickle flavour. And Yes, I have pickles in my potato salad, egg salad and tuna salad.  And yes I like a good crunchy pickle on my plate with dinner almost every night. And  I can confirm, I have been known to cut up pickles and sprinkle them on my chicken.  Bizarre? Well of course!  But most obsessions are.
   
A perfect pickle to me, is like a great glass of wine to someone else, and while most people realize that pickles come in many flavours, sizes and brands, I’m here to tell you that not all pickles are made equal.  In fact, I have become quite the pickle connoisseur.  I have tasted and tried practically every brand of pickles imaginable, from the local store shelf, to your rare speciality brands, to the grandmother down the street sporting her bread n’ butter version at the community craft fair.  Yes my friends, I have tried and done them all!  I even love the word pickle.  Say it with me “pickle”.  Pickle, pickle, pickle!!! Isn’t that a great sounding word?

However, there are times that I feel much like Goldilocks:  This pickle is too small, this pickle is too big (yes while some things are much better bigger, I can attest that a pickle too large is not one of those items), this pickle is too tart, this pickle is too soft, this pickle is too sweet, where’s the pickle that is just right?

It’s taken me years to find the perfect tasting pickle and I am happy to report that I have finally found it.  A delightful (there’s that word again), crunching, exhilarating to the senses, absofreakinlutely perfect brand of non-local Gherkins.  Ahhhhhhh, just the sheer thought of a good, crunchy gherkin puts an ear to ear smile upon my face.  Oh the complete joy of it all.  My better half calls them the “crack” version of pickles, and I tend to agree! Of course, I have spent a lot of time scouring the local farmer market’s store to get it as you can’t buy it in your grocery store, but it is so worth the drive my friends.  Unfortunately, it’s getting harder and harder to locate them as it seems others have stumbled upon this quest for the worthy pickle.  And once I have that jar in my greasy little hands, I can confirm that I can deplete it three days!

The other day however, I wondered if my obsession had gone too far.  I had sat down on a Friday night and scarfed 5 pickles down in one sitting.  I couldn’t stop, they were so good.  It didn’t seem to matter that the juice was pouring down my chin or that I swear I could hear the pickles screaming “oh my gawd, here she comes again, duck for cover... oh gawd, she got Edgar..  Rest in Peace Edgar, oh gawd she just downed baby Huey, will this madness never end!!”  Nope, I just sat there greedily sucking them back like I had never had one before!

You will be happy to know that the pickles got there revenge as I woke up on Saturday with a pickle sized canker on the side of my tongue.  Unfortunately, I was born with a cow-sized tongue in my mouth, the kind that I could stick out and send you flying with one good lick!  And therefore, this canker was housed on the side of my rather large tongue where my teeth rest and I spent the next two days in agony and slathering on copious amounts of Oragel to numb the pain.  I suppose that this should teach me a lesson, but I fear it hasn’t!

However, I do hope the pickles have appreciated their two days of respite because I am happy to report that my tongue is satisfactorily healed and I have a feeling that tonight, I will exact my revenge back...!  Mwaaaa haaaa haaaa....

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches