A GALLON jar of pickles sits near the register at Lee’s Washerette and Food Market, a mustard-colored cinder-block bunker on the western fringe of this Mississippi Delta town.
Those pickles were once mere dills. They were once green. Their exteriors remain pebbly, a reminder that long ago they began their lives on a farm, on the ground, as cucumbers.
But they now have an arresting color that combines green and garnet, and a bracing sour-sweet taste that they owe to a long marinade in cherry or tropical fruit or strawberry Kool-Aid.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/09/dining/09kool.html?_r=1&oref=slogin
I'm not big on dills (have to be in the mood) but it strikes me these might be a good seller at fairs or the like.. I prefer sweet baby gherkins.
Those pickles were once mere dills. They were once green. Their exteriors remain pebbly, a reminder that long ago they began their lives on a farm, on the ground, as cucumbers.
But they now have an arresting color that combines green and garnet, and a bracing sour-sweet taste that they owe to a long marinade in cherry or tropical fruit or strawberry Kool-Aid.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/09/dining/09kool.html?_r=1&oref=slogin
I'm not big on dills (have to be in the mood) but it strikes me these might be a good seller at fairs or the like.. I prefer sweet baby gherkins.
