If you’re receiving this post late or twice, I’m so sorry. There was an issue with my website service on Wednesday. Some of you found my blog through Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, or Instagram. There are comments on the original post from Wednesday if you’d like to join the conversation, or feel free to comment on this one.
Just drop down to the next post on my website and you’ll see the first post about pickles.
Now, back to our regularly scheduled program…
“Julie,” my mother said. “We aren’t those kind of people.”
“What kind of people?”
My husband Rick had just brought in a mountain of cucumbers from his garden and we planned to make pickles.
Cinnamon Red Hot Pickles.
Starting the tedious process I thought, What in the heck are we doing? Mother’s right.
Our ingredients included strange things like ALUM and PICKLING LIME.
Here’s the recipe. I’m warning you. It’s intimidating. The recipe says it takes three days, but we started at night. It took four.
Washing, peeling, and removing the seeds from 5,000 cucumbers was quite an ordeal.
Next we cut them into a million pieces.
We cheated and used the dishwasher to sterilize the jars.
With each step, my doubt grew.
We’re wasting our time.
We aren’t pickle-making people.
It was messy. Sticky. Exhausting.
One night after eleven o’clock, I was so sick of making pickles that I went to bed and left Rick stirring.
Somehow, we made a monumental mistake and bought the wrong kind of Red Hots. :( Ours turned into clear rubbery balls that wouldn’t dissolve.
Nevertheless, Rick charged on, hoping they’d miraculously melt.
By day three, red sticky syrup covered the counter. Cucumber seeds clung to the cabinets, the floor, and the refrigerator door.
The final morning before Rick left for work he asked me to do the next step.
“You’re kidding,” I said. “We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s just quit.”
“Nope. We’re not giving up.”
Feeling foolish and frustrated, I took the stupid cucs out of the fridge.
To my horror, they were pale green and pink.
Not candy-apple red.
Then my mother called. “I tried to tell you,” she said.
Throwing the mess away, I decided NO MORE PICKLES.
This is it.
But Rick wouldn’t give up.
He went to four stores in search of the right kind of Red Hots.
He found them.
This time, he called his aunt for her recipe.
We started all over again.
But guess what?
We did it!
We made absolutely incredible Cinnamon Red Hot Pickles!
Mother still can’t believe we’re pickle-making people.
I saved her a jar.
If you’re working on something that seems impossible:
1. Tune out all negative thoughts. And comments.
2. Don’t be afraid to change your approach. (Aunt Jane’s recipe.)
3. Hang in there. Sometimes God’s favor comes when you least expect it.
Can you identify?
P.S. They’re gluten-free!
Julie and Rick