My heart goes out

to those millions of women (and it was mostly women) who had to get all the summer’s produce into some semblance of preservation. Pickling in the summer is a bitch. How did they do it? Seriously. You just have to. There’s nothing to be done about it. When produce is ready it needs putting up.

I had the luscious convenience of air conditioning and, still, pickling took a lot of effort. It was blazing hot and I was sweating more than one might comfortably want to be sweating around food prep (keep that in mind when you’re eating in a restaurant in the summer). And I cannot just keep all the summer’s batch of cucumbers until I have the entire crop and then pickle them all at once. They need to be pickled as they come along. My cucumbers, there are several varieties, are coming in hither and tither. Peppers, cucumbers, green beans. Peaches if I ever get any—they are very near to ripe and it seems the squirrels cannot eat them all despite their best efforts so I will have to put them up as well. I don’t think you pickle them (a quick peek at the google tells me I can). Oh god.

I can’t help myself

Hot peppers, peppers, mild peppers, sorta hot peppers, stuffed peppers, peppers in oil. I’m in Germany the land of not hot food. Unless it’s a hot-out-of-the-pan schnitzel. Where do I drift to? The pickle aisle in the grocery store and what am I buying? Hot peppers. Peppers. Jalapeños. Cheese filled hot peppers. (and at the same time wondering how those lime pickles are marinating in my cupboard in Wisco.)

I made some sort of taco stuff. It was delicious. Roasted onions and peppers, chili powder (peppers) in tortillas. With jalapeños. We go to tapas places, what do we always order? Peppers. Pizza here comes with hot pepper oil. Love it.

I even had pepper leaf ice cream. That on the other hand was a bummer.

Anyway, I blame my mother.