Things I would eat before I would eat dill, a partial list:
- Brains
- Durian
- A whole bowl of unadorned cilantro
- Epoisses cheese
- Chalk
I don't mind most of the items on those internet lists of divisive foods. I'll eat oysters, I'll eat black licorice, I'll eat fennel and okra and collards and other unpopular vegetables. Not dill, though. Can't do it. It tastes like sadness and compost, neither of which I wish to have in my mouth.
Elwood just asked us if we knew where dill originated. "Hell?" I answered right away, and Joe laughed out loud. "I knew you were going to say that," he said. (The answer is actually Egypt.)
Yesterday we made our annual end-of-break trip to Chicago, and after a visit to the National Museum of Mexican Art I got a delicious chicken sandwich at a restaurant in Pilsen. I asked for the pickles on the side, please, because usually pickles taste like dill. But! In a happy surprise, these pickles were dill-free and they made the sandwich. I ate them all and licked my fingers afterward.
Pickles are such a perfect thing to put on a sandwich -- crunchy, sour, salty, a little sweet. I love the idea of pickles. Why oh why, though, do most pickles have to taste like sadness and compost? Periodically I have attempted to find pickles without dill. I used to get these fantastic, ferociously sour little gherkins when we lived near a Whole Foods. I've made refrigerator pickles in the summertime. But there must be some options at the neighborhood Kroger, right? I can't be the only person who digs the crunchy-sour-salty part and detests the dill part.
If you have any recommendations for dill-free pickles, please tell me all about them.
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