I’ve always loved pickles ever since I was a little kid, so like 72 years ago. My dad gives me a jar just about every Christmas; yes, he gave me the infamous pickle ornament too.
My mom’s made baked pickle chips for me. To the surprise of absolutely no one, fried pickles are better.
I put pickles on all my salads, homemade or at restaurants. Doesn’t matter where I am, long hair don’t care.
When we went to Bruce’s Candy Kitchen in Seaside, my mom bought me a bag of candy pickles. They didn’t really taste like pickles but I still ate them all like a boss.
When I’m feeling superbly awesome, I eat pickles right after a run because salty sounds good. And yes, of course I’ve drunk pickle juice. Why would you even ask me that!?
I know my husband loves me, not because he puts up some seriously legit psycho crap of mine, but because when we go out to eat, he orders an extra cup of pickles for me without asking. And when he doesn’t, I pull said psycho card. “You don’t love me, do you. I knew it!”
When I ran my then-PR at Carlsbad, I celebrated by going home, popping a bottle of bub and eating a whole jar of pickles. NBD. and that’s happened on more occasions than one.
Whole jars of pickles aren’t just for PRs.
So imagine my surprise when I found out this afternoon that I’m not the most amazing pickle lover in the world.
I was reading Rachel Ray’s EveryDay magazine that my neighbor gave me and saw this:
Katy Tackett is such a pickle lover that she carries around a jar in her purses and “nearly ever shelf (of her fridge) is reserved for pickle jars.”
“Tackett’s wardrobe is predominantly green” and when she can’t have a pickle she uses pickle-flavored lip balm.
I just got served.
Any food/candy/drink/dessert that you love fresh to death?
I’m pretty obsessive over cinnamon bears too.