Hot, Limp Pickle

Seriously. That’s what you get when…

you drop a
several week/month/year-old pickle
– who’s suspended succulence –
– was made possible thanks to a high-acid bath –
into a very, very, very
hot vat of splitter, splattering oil.

Images of hot, limp pickles danced through my mind as I challenged myself to experience this abomination of an otherwise crunchy, tangy little treat.

Ever-so-bravely, I took the plunge. Not surprisingly, the outside was fried to a perfect golden, greasy little crispity crisp. Also not surprisingly, the inside — the actual pickle — was warm and soggy.

I took one bite and couldn’t finish.

Yeah, yeah. I blog smack about these nasty little GI bombs. But in all fairness, (or simply to twist things up a bit), I should share that my two dinner comrades found the contradictory soggy/crunchy pickle combination to their liking.

Still, the most impressive element of this bold experience — hands down — were my comrades’ fried-pickle comments:

“I can see it on an omelet. Really.”

“It’s like a vege alternative.”

“Ketchup on fried pickles. It’s like white trash on top of white trash,” she said with a big dollop of catsup on the end of her pickle.

“Fried pickle belch is not the tastiest.”

Our fried pickles were scrounged up at Fire on the Mountain.
Thanks, guys.
For an experienc.e