Pickles.

Pickles, eh?

I like pickles, most of them. You know what kind of pickle is gross? The sweet kind. You know, the kind in the jar that taste like there is 24987 grams of sugar in them? That kind. I hate them. Eww. Please, for the love of Pete, give me a good, crisp, kosher dill and we are good to go.

There is a place here in CT called Rein's Deli. Oh my gosh, it is SOOOO good. They make their own pickles there. I like the kind that aren't mild (I forget what fancy name they call them.) Yum. I need to get down there to have some Rein's Deli pickles. In fact, here's a picture of one of my bff's eating a Rein's Deli pickle. We took this picture while answering a 100 hour board question a few years ago. Good times. I wonder how Bethy would feel about this picture being posted on my blog. Oh well, what's done is done.

Ok, back to pickles. In my family, my aunt and I are the chief pickle eating peoples. In fact, my grandma only buys pickles when she knows my aunt and I are going to be there. I appreciate it.

There are, however, pickle products that I don't like. Here are a few of them:

1. Relish.
2. Pickled cucumbers.
3.

What?? You want me to describle the attrocity that is a pickled cucumber and tell you the difference between a pickled cucumber and a pickle? Ok, I'll try.

Pickled cucumbers are NOT pickles. They are cucumbers that someone decided to stick in some vinegar for not enough time and call them a pickle. Restaurants like to serve these, I've noticed. Yeah, gross. A pickle needs to have some bite to it. It needs flavor. When I eat a pickle, I want to be surprised it was ever a cucumber.

Just thinking about it gives me the jibblies.

Ok, now that I'm worked up, I'll try to calm down by telling a "youth pickle story".

When I was growing up, my uncle owned a restaurant (he still does) and my cousins and I would go to the restaurant and cause all kinds of problems. (We still do.) One of our favorite activities was going to the kitchen, finding the biggest bowl we could, and piling on the pickles. Then, we'd go to the counter and chow down. I'm pretty sure it grossed out everyone there, but we loved it. As we grew up we all started getting our own pickle bowls.

Good times.

So, kids, that's my pickle blog. Thanks, Megan, for giving me the idea. I hope that you like your prize!