I feel obligated to want pickles at some point in the next few months. Generally, I don’t like pickles. Not on my cheese burger, not as a nasty relish, and certainly not soaking my grilled cheese. However, every now and then when I visit my parents I will opt for pickles on my taco. (Weird? Yes. My mom claims pickles are what you are supposed to put on your taco….according to her brother who served a mission in some taco eating country. I think the joke might be on her….who knows).
Several times in the past few months I’ve looked at the pickles in the grocery store. I’m tempted to buy some but I don’t know what kind! There are so many! There are the “bread and butter” pickles (who came up with that term?) which I know I don’t like. There are dill. There are gherkins. And somewhere in there I’m sure there’s a “sweet” something. All I know is I like them small and crisp…not soggy. Ah, what to get?! Kosher, for sure!
Then I think to myself, “I don’t really want pickles! It just seems like the right thing to do.”
Ha. This one made me laugh. My good ol’ Uncle Robert taught me to put pickles in my enchiladas and now… I love it!
Costco dills are the best. The problem is you have to buy two big jars (give one to the food bank?) They are tiny and crunchy.
By the way it was my uncle Grant (as in Betty and Grant) that taught us all about taco’s before anyone in this country knew they existed. He served a mission in Argentina.
I didn’t know that came from Grant. Everyone that comes to our house on taco night thinks we are crazy when they see the pickles on the table.