I wrote in NRODT a few weeks ago about buying pickles at the town fair.
Well, we were getting towards the end of all those wonderful pickles, and
needed more, and were not willing to wait for next year’s fair. So I
tracked down the firm that runs that booth, drove 12 miles over there, and
picked up three gallon tubs of their fantastic pickles.
That’s a lot of tubs for a small family refirgerator, so we did what we do
in these cases — parked the pickles on the deck out back.
Then came the storm. The pickles disappeared under a 2 ft snowdrift. We
didn’t think about it. A few days later, we reached the end of our fair
pickles, and I went and dug out a tub from the snowdrift. The pickles were
frozen solid. I brought them in and set them to thaw. They thawed. We
opened up the tub and tried a pickle. Aaaaaaargh!
If you like your pickles crisp’n’crunchy (and I can’t imagine anyone liking
them any other way, DO NOT FREEZE YOUR PICKLES.
Anybody want three gallon tubs of flaccid pickles? No viagra jokes, please.
(Incidentally, Mark, i discovered when at the pickle establishment that the
proprietors are Armenian immigrants. Is this a one-off, or do delicious
crunchy pickles loom large in Armenian culture?)