Oh the shame of it all..........a pickler, I am not.

I have 11 quarts of soggy pickles.  They wouldn't be crisp if you froze them - even in the Artic polar ice cap.

What looked so pretty in the jars and just like the directions read has resulted in the absolute worst pickles I've ever put in my mouth.  I should call Guinness Book and have them declared the Worst Pickles in History!  At least I would be famous for something.

Great day in the morning!

Can't you just see me, slipping down to the basement and getting both a jar of bread and butter and a jar of dill pickles.  Me being all sneaky thinking I was going to sample my prize winning delights all by myself before anyone else remembered it was time to eat them.....?  I was trying to be oh so quiet, gliding into the kitchen (have you ever tried to open a new jar of anything - quietly? It's about impossible.)  There I was, my mouth was watering all ready to taste the sweetness and crispness of the bread butter pickles until.....

..........ugh.....hrrmmph.....gag...OH - what IS this?  Soggy mush in sweet vinegar?  I nearly upchucked in the sink.

So then, I just put them in the refrigerator and didn't say anything about them to anyone to see what would happen.  The Gladiator came in from working outside to get something to drink and noticed the jars.

He said in his light bulb moment, "Oh yeah, I forgot about your pickles, I guess they're ready to eat."

I said, "Oh, yeah, they're ready alright.  But I don't I think they're fit to eat."

"Why not?" he asked, "Have you already tried them?"

"Yes and I gagged. They're awful.  I can't believe it!"

"No way.  They are bad?  Let me try one."  (famous last words second only to, "Watch this...")

Big mistake.  But he can never say I didn't warn him.

My husband, hot and sweaty with grass clippings sticking all to him, plopped a big ol' slice of bread and butter pickle substance or matter  into his mouth.

Can you hear the Psycho theme music?

First, his mouth looked like his teeth evaporated, then his nostrils flared and finally (and very quickly I might add) he gagged and held over the sink.

May I repeat, he can't say I didn't warn him.

Surely, 11 quarts of the worst pickles in history won't destroy my compost.  Ya think?

At least I won't have to worry about the chickens getting in the compost for a while.  They'll be busting outta there as fast as their little yellow legs can run!  hee hee~

So the reality is - I failed Pickling 101.  My Home Ec teacher would be so ashamed - except that we only learned how to make biscuits and Baked Alaska - we never canned.  If only......

Does this mean I have to go to summer school?

Next summer school?

Maybe I should've bought the Ball Blue Book before I pickled, huh?

Harriette