A Day In The Life…Of A Pickle

Last weekend, my cousin brought us sixty five pounds of freshly picked cucumbers. 

Yes.  You read that right. 


You see, my cousin has a little garden out at his ranch.  At least that’s how he describes it.

And he says he’s gonna bring us a few, I repeat… a few cucumbers from his little garden.

Oh, they are also “all organic”.

He knew we were getting ready to make pickles, and he and my aunt, have always supplied our family with the best cucumbers you have ever seen.

My mom has always canned dill pickles, and last year, I finally went through the whole process with her. 

She learned me how to do it.

I guess the “torch” has been passed.

Anyway, my mom’s pickles are world famous.

Well, if you live in this little part of the world.

Or,  if you have ever lived in any of the various college dorms where the kids from our extended family have lived.

It’s a good thing I am married to a good man.  I would never, ever, attempt this on my own.

He helps me every step of the way.

So, we start with a “few” cucumbers. 

Thoroughly washed and scrubbed with tender loving care, by none other than….

Make a brine with vinegar, water, and canning salt.
Each quart jar gets a garlic clove, and a red dried pepper.
And some fresh, homegrown dill.
We pack the jars with quartered cucumbers.
Then pour the hot brine in.
The lids all get a few minutes in hot water.
Lids go on, and then the whole jar gets a five minute hot bath.
After each jar comes out of the hot bath, they are covered with a towel.
We also had some jalapenos from our very own garden.
These babies are dangerous.
Yes Wranglers is wearing rubber gloves.
But still, after handling these little jewels, you don’t want to touch or scratch anything.
I mean it. 
Here are the finished products.
Trust me-you can go to the store and buy these for a few bucks, however, they will never- I repeat-NEVER taste as good as these.
They are worth every bit of blood, sweat, and tears.   I promise.


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