If estimates are correct, baby-so-sour's favorite pickled snack was probably first picked and rotted about 4400 years ago in the land between the two rivers. In terms of holiness, you probably couldn't find a fruit closer to earthly paradise (now, before you protest, think about where that infamous 'apple' lead), so it is nothing but fitting that our little angel absolutely loves them.
Her first taste of the salty, sour cucumber happened at a barbeque restaurant of all places. It was served along side babymama's pulled pork sandwich - cool and crisp, a refreshing sour to the sweet, rich, buttery melting of meat on mama's plate. As mama ate, baby-insistant kept pointing to what mama thought were her french fries. After repeated attempts to quiet the increasing volume of the hungry girl's pleas with a fry, mama finally understood that baby-demanding wanted the pickle.
You can easily understand the, ahem, pickle in which we-the-parents found ourselves. It's a pickle for goodness sake, and baby girl is a mere 15 months old . . . arguably an age that is entirely too young to appreciate, much less enjoy, the many virtues of vinegar and garlic combined with fruit and fermentation. It is, however, a near-impossible feat to distract the baby-girl once she has focused her attention upon any desired food item, and so, with warnings in baby-tongue intended to prevent what mama knew would be the inevitable tears, mama handed over the pickle.
Amazingly there was no crying, and thankfully, no vomiting (as was the case with the veggie puffs and cooked carrots). The baby's eyes widened as she took a small bite, quickly realizing the sourness of the fruit. She pulled her head back, puckered her lips, and then she shuddered - a full-body, head-shaking shudder that drew those puckered little lips down into a grimace. We-the-parents braced ourselves for the wailing that never came. Instead, we saw a smile, and our adventurous little eater leaned in and reached for a second helping of the pickle that mama pronounced 'soooo sour'.
Since that first taste of kosher dill, the baby-girl always asks for our pickles, often enjoying a whole side of them on her own. At her last trip to the land of lemon-pepper-wings, baby-sweetheart ate 3 spears nearly back to back, and mama and daddy now keep a jar in the fridge just for her. We've not introduced her to the gherkin yet, or the bread and butter variety, but we plan to do so well in advance of next year's International Pickle Week, so she's well prepared to celebrate with the rest of the world's pickle lovers. If you're so inclined, you can get some of Daddy's favorites here, and you can check out the 39 flavors (yes, that's right) offered here.
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