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To Brine Own Self Be Pickled

Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind, and therefore pickles are my everything. 

Shakespeare's famous words, right? Truer words never spoken. TBH, that guy really got it.

Maybe it's childhood nostalgia (Claussen kids represent!), but a briny, vinegary aroma still fills me with immediate happiness. With one satisfying crunch, I'm calm. I may have outgrown many childhood habits (Dad, why was microwaving salami ever a good idea?) but I will never outgrow my pickle habit. And now that pickling has gotten serious attention in the indie world, I don't have to.

Gone are the days of pickle binarism, where half sour or sour were the only options (coughsourforever). These new flavors and combinations get me psyched. Like, OMGOBP (OMG, Old Bay Pickles). 

For me, it’s totally natural to stick pickled asparagus or string beans in a Bloody Mary, to add some Hefeweizen Bread & Butter Pickles on a BEC (extra points for pronunciation), and to top a grilled turkey burger with smashed pickled cherry tomatoes bursting with juiciness. Only at the end of the day will it occur to me just how many pickled items were consumed.

Afternoon pick-me-up? Little Hotties! Midnight snack? Pickled peas and carrots!  Party show stopper? Kale salad with pickled watermelon, feta, and pepitas. (A little olive oil and balsamic and you're good to go.) BRB, salivating.

Stop being so pickle normative and start experimenting.

The only thing left to conquer now is pickle pecked ice cream (and if you have any info on this plz lmk).

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