Pickles

Maybe it's the time of the year, but lately when I think of my Grandma, I think of pickles.  Kind of an odd thing to start my memories of her and telling her how much she means to me, but pickles are on the brain.  She taught me many, many things and one of them is knowing my way around the kitchen and we did a lot of "old fashioned" cooking.  Around this time of the year, it would be the beginning of our canning season.  We didn't grow our own garden, but my grandparents had plenty of friends who did and always had an over abundance of produce.  Pickles were made every year.  Two weeks of many pickle crocks sitting on the back porch to let the cucumbers pickle.  Two weeks to smell the spices and I could never resist taking the cover off and getting a good whiff of the vinegar and spices.  Two weeks of stirring the pickles each day. Then, the canning day.  The kitchen was full of steam from the pots of boiling water.  Lots of boiling water to sterilize the jars and then to seal the tops after we stuffed them full of pickles and juice.  The pickles made the most were bread and butter pickles, but I always preferred dill pickles.  One year, we made dill pickles because I asked for them.  Would it have been easier to go to the store and buy the pickles?  Absolutely.  But, maybe I learned something else while making pickles.  Maybe I learned that the easy way is not always the best way.  Maybe I learned that it takes time and hard work(think mid-summer, no air conditioning and A LOT of steam!) to create something wonderful.  Maybe I learned that accomplishing something with your family is better than an easy quick trip to the store.  All I do know is that I never look at a jar of pickles(store-bought or otherwise) without thinking of my Grandma and those late summer, steamy, spicy days in the kitchen with our pickles.