Today's confession: I love sweet pickles. Why does this make the list instead of pizza or ice cream or any number of excellent foods? Because sweet pickles were, at one time, a bane of my existence. Out of the many food banes in my life, it ranked Number 4.
How did the bane become boon? One of Laura's friends gave us a long weekend at her timeshare in Myrtle Beach in late September 2005. We don't go on many vacations. Some of that is due to not having the money and some of it is due to spending our vacation time with family, since we do not live near family.
Anyway, while we were at the house, Laura walked over to the nearby grocery store. She got back with bologna sandwich fixings, which included some dill-pickle sandwich stackers. I built my sandwich and took a bite. "Laura, you bought sweet pickles instead of dills!" I accused with my mouth full, as if she had slept with the neighbor's teenage son. The words had not gotten far past the bologna-pickle mash when they were immediately followed by the thought, "and I like them."
She came into the kitchen and said she didn't realize they even made sweet-pickle sandwich stackers. She, of course, had to fill in this part of the story later because I didn't hear a word she said. I was consumed with sandwich consumption and working on plans of making another.
I reminisce about that happy accident and it makes me think of the monk who mistakenly overcooked his soft pretzels only to produce the wonderful snack pretzels we enjoy today.
I liked the sweet pickles so much that once that jar was empty, I ran out to the grocery store and bought another jar of the sandwich stackers. I've been hooked on sweet pickles since. In fact, I just finished an egg-salad sandwich with sweet pickles in the egg salad. I hear the mocking oohs and ahs, but trust me here - I've been a strictly no-pickles-in-my-egg-salad-please kind of guy ever since I've been able to stomach egg salad.
Okay, so maybe it's not that big of a deal. But, even so, I'm grooving on it.