Over the last few months, I have received several gentle reminders of undoubtedly the best pickle I have ever savored-- My Grandmother Edythe's Bright Green Pickled Watermelon Rinds.
The first reminder came as my kids and I sampled some spicy dill pickles at a local restaurant and shared a learning moment about the types of pickles and various ingredients that compose such. It was a thorough lesson on the delicacies and intricacies of the pickle art and family, which of course included the lively details of the watermelon rind pickle and our family history that parallels that great pickle. I am certain that I must have enjoyed the lesson far more than any of them, since they all firmly concluded that they really do not care for pickles at all. My sadness with their conclusion, however, was quickly replace with the joy of knowing that at least for the next several years, that would mean MORE PICKLES FOR ME! Hurray!
The next gentle reminder came in the form of a sensory flashback. A homemade salad dressing brought by my dear friend with the love of a warm meal upon my husband's return from a brief hospital stay. A wonderful salad and dressing in it's own right signaled a tasteful tease of that wonderful pickle of my childhood - a shared ingredient undoubtedly. The watermelon rind pickle was the relish I clamored for as I approached the twirly tray that sat on my mother and father's dining room table at every Thanksgiving Dinner of my youth. It spun and neatly encapsulated all the wonderful colorful relishes that we were allowed to sample before the prayer. Nothing on the tray, not even the plump black olives that decorated our fingertips, surpassed the wonder of the brightest green pickles one would ever find. (Where is that tray by the way?).
A final flashback came as more of an insult to the pickle family altogether. My husband and I were blessed by a dear friend and able to enjoy a holiday getaway in a charming Texas Hill Country town. I was strolling the aisles of a wonderful, touristy gourmet food shop enjoying the spicy Texas salsas and every kind of berry mixed with a kick of some kind of pepper (a bountiful taste bud adventure) when I serendipitously approached the pickle shelves. As expected the hot pickle varieties abounded with the expected Texas flair. As I perused the labels across the shelf, I was suddenly filled with surprise and delight as I read "Watermelon Rind Pickle." I was mesmerized by the words on the label having never seen those words in an actual store before. Someone here must know my Grandmother!!! My pure excitement and delight must have blinded me to the rest of the bottle as my eyes darted to find the sample bowl, and I quickly shoved my cracker under the much loved pickle of old. No sooner had I savored the bland wilting pickle when I noticed the drab, dull green color of the pickles that filled the jars marked "Watermelon Rind Pickles." Maybe they were my grandmother's pickle that someone had stored since the early '70's? Even that wouldn't explain the insult that watermelon rind pickles had just received!
So today I will contact my grandmother, my father, my aunt, and my sister who seem to always have a way of finding, refining, remembering and even uncovering the secret ingredients of my grandmother's old recipes. My Italian Grandma is 92 and doesn't do much cooking anymore, but the love that she always shared with us through her foods has left a legacy of culinary experts and a treasury of fond family memories. Thank you God for my Grandmother.
“Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.” James 1:17
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