I have a gallon of pickles in the pantry right now. I know that can be hard to imagine, so I’ll just pause here a moment to let that sink in. A gallon of pickles. Like if the milk jug didn’t have any milk in it and instead was full of pickles. Not that that would be really any good for anyone, but it does get a nice visual. I mean imagine waking up and pouring out a bowl of cereal only to find the milk jug full of pickles. Ugh. Not the best way to start the day. Anyway, I’m getting a little sidetracked here, especially since they are in four separate quart containers, not a milk jug. I just like to think of it as a gallon because it makes it more clear what a cool accomplishment it was.
Now, simply having a gallon of pickles isn’t really a great feat. It’s not something Hercules would have set out to do, or some sort of Mission Impossible task. Anyone, Greek heroes and Tom Cruise included can simply jaunt over to the nearest grocery store, pick up four jars of pickles (Hercules would do it with one hand, by the way), and buy them. Presto! A gallon of pickles in the pantry. So how about this? The whole lot of them, with the exception of one teensy little insignificant equipment expense, cost $1.68. That’s some good bang for the buck, pickled vegetable-wise.
Of course, the argument could be made that such an incredible quantity of pickles, obtained for such an astonishingly low price, is not so spectacular an achievement. Suppose these pickles were on clearance at the store? Maybe they were expired, or about to expire, if something surrounded by brine and vinegar can even expire in the first place. Then perhaps the store, in a quest to rid itself of the overzealously ordered and apparently unloved pickles, marked them down to, say 42 cents per jar. A strange price point, to be sure, but that’s not to say that it couldn’t have happened. It didn’t, for the record. No, these were so inexpensive because, we made them ourselves!
The whole story begins several weeks ago, when we received a surprise visitor. Or more accurately, an expected visitor, though that sounds much less intriguing. Or to be more accurate still, a visit from my Mother-in-law. She stopped in to town to visit us, we went out to lunch, checked out a local winery, went shopping at the mall, chatted and snacked, watched a movie, and much fun was had by all. I expected that we’d all have a good time. What I did not expect is that she would come bearing a bag of cucumbers. Almost eight pounds of cucumbers which were going to be unused in Edgewood, and naturally were given to us. Maybe because we’re so cool? (Ouch, lame joke).
It was during the aforementioned snacking and chatting stage that the cucumbers were discussed further. My wife or I indicated that we had no idea what we would do with eight pounds of cucumbers, short of building a green Lincoln Log-style fort. Then my Mother-in-law mentioned how easy it would be to make them into pickle relish, and since the vinegar would help preserve things, they could even be stored in the refrigerator in old jars from the store, without sealing. That made things start to sound more interesting.
The final piece of the puzzle came just a few days later, on a random browsing trip to World Market. Sipping my sample tea and meandering through the food aisles, on the lookout for a bargain or currant Lakerol, something caught my eye. A small pouch, with pictures of pickles (or pickle pictures) on the front, and better yet, a red clearance sticker. It was a seasoning mix for making pickles, marked down to $1.68! That was all we needed, cosmically speaking. Through the free cucumbers, the relish suggestion, and the clearance spices, it was clear that the universe wanted us to make pickles. The reason has yet to be revealed - maybe the universe has a burger it needs to garnish - but we certainly weren’t going to ignore the signs.
There’s an old saying about helping those who help themselves or something, so we weren’t going to wait for the universe to plop a canner into our laps. We took the initiative on that one and outfitted ourselves with a top notch pressure canner, pint and quart jars, and a toolkit to help fill and handle the hot jars. This would be that minor equipment expenditure I mentioned earlier. It’s kind of an inside joke for people who have bought canners before. See, they’re not actually cheap. Get it? But we had everything we needed to make pickles, we weren’t going to give up with the finish line in sight. Sure, the entertainment budget took a hit that month, but it turned out making the pickles was entertainment in itself.
That is, if frenzied and harried rushing around with stuff you’ve never used before is entertainment. The jars need to be washed and then kept warm. The cukes need to be sliced and crammed into the jars, then covered with hot (not boiling) pickling liquid. The lids need to be pulled out of a pot of hot (not boiling) water and placed on top. Then the ring gets tightened down and the jar is put into the canner full of boiling (and hot) water, for a prescribed amount of time. It is possible that you can take your time doing all of this, but I’d never done it before, so I was trying to get everything full, closed down and put in the water while things were still hot. It was just like preparing Thanksgiving dinner, assuming that you were just serving pickles for Thanksgiving, which I have to say is a little weird.
Eventually the jars came out, and one by one, we heard the “pop!” noise that meant all four jars had sealed. Following a brief happy dance, we got to end the entire ordeal… by putting the jars into the pantry. You see, they need to pickle and marinate for something like four weeks before you can even think about eating them. So don’t ask me how they taste. I said I have a gallon of pickles in the pantry, not a gallon of pickles in my belly. But give me a few more weeks, and that will all change. If you think it’s impressive to make that many pickles, just wait ‘til I find out how quickly we can consume a gallon of them. Now that should be interesting.
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