Some days it's zucchini bread. Today, it was all about the pickles.
Bread and butter, dill, hot, and horseradish — four kinds, one very full counter, and every jar lined up on towels like they'd earned a rest. Which, honestly, they had. So had I.
There's something satisfying about a whole batch of cucumbers turning into this many different things. Same vegetable, four completely different personalities by the time they hit the jar — sweet, tangy, sharp, spicy. It's the closest thing I have to a science experiment, except the only acceptable outcome is "delicious."
The horseradish ones are new for me this year, and I'm already planning who's getting first dibs once they're ready. Everything else — the garlic, the dill, even the horseradish root itself — came out of my own yard, which still feels like a small miracle every single time I remember it.
Pickle day is a good day.