Week 54: Continuing the Trend
About that time I tried fried pickles…
Each Sunday, my wife and I prepare, cook and eat a meal together — intentionally. Every Friday, I’ll be sharing our experience here in this space. I want to see the growth that will come in our marriage because of this. I hope you enjoy our story. You can find last week’s post here.
When I was a kid, an entire jar of pickles spilled in our fridge one time. Pickle juice was everywhere. On everything. It all smelled of pickles. I remember it vividly. I was utterly repulsed.
Ever since then, I‘ve shied away from pickles. I ask for burgers without them. Sometimes I forget to ask for my sandwich to come without those solitary pickles they put on your plate (I’ve never understood those, by the way). When that happens, I eat around the fries that have been tainted by pickle juice. Every once in a while, I’ve venture out and try a pickle. But in my 24 years of life, pickles have been one of my most hated foods.
But since I’ve started liking tomatoes, and I even tried jalapanos, I figured it was time to give pickles another chance. The opportunity presented itself when Sarah, who has no such qualms about pickles, offered fried pickles as a Sunday option.
Softening the Blow
I like fried food, so I figured that would help with the situation. But I wasn’t quite ready to make pickles the main course. So we decided that we’d need something to pair them with.
As a kid, one of my favorites (who am I kidding — it was everyone’s favorite) was a nice PB&J sandwich. And, no, the “J” doesn’t stand for jalapenos. So the menu was set — peanut butter and jelly with a side of fried pickles. And odd combo for sure, but we’ve been known to make a few of those from time to time.
Pleasant Surprises
I’ve purchased pickles at the store for Sarah before. But somehow, knowing that I would be eating these specific pickles made me more jittery than usual as I walked down the aisle. I inspected the pickles with great care to make sure I found the least vomit-inducing jar available. Then I stopped to think…
…shouldn’t I use the same care (more even) when I’m buying the jar for my wife?
I came home with all the ingredients. We started our weekly adventure. This week involved dipping each pickle into an egg-milk mixture and then into the breading. Sarah and I made an assembly line and finished the task in short order. It was fun! I completely forgot that we were cooking pickles.
Then came the really fun part — we fried them!
The cracks, pops and sizzles provided a rousing soundtrack to the festivities. In no time at all, our side dish was ready. Once we made the sandwiches, are meal was all set.
We sat down to eat, and I bit into my first bite of pickle. Yes, I slathered in a ranch at first. But then, I tried it on its own. And you know what?
It tasted really good!
I’m thankful that I have a wife who helps me overcome childhood fears. She’s my teammate. My partner. A few measly pickles don’t stand a chance.
First it was tomatoes, then it was jalapenos. Now pickles. What irrational food fear should we tackle next? Well…someone will need to send us a good recipe using beets, I guess.
