Epic Pickle Fail

So...a number of contributing factors could be responsible for the failure of my grand pickle experiment.  I had the right 2 gallon crock.  I had Grandma's instructions.  I had a boat load of cucumbers.  However, it appears that the brine either evaporated or leeched through the bottom of the crock to such an extent that the top slices were exposed.  Hence icky mold and flies all over!  Also, my efforts to sanitize the crock and the pickles (I had to separate the good ones from some white fuzzy ones...) might have backfired.

I was decidedly deterred when I discovered the moldy cucumber slices.  However, I do have some cucumbers left, clean and fuzz-free, so I am now encouraged to make a second, edited attempt.  Instead of the crock, I'll start right away with sealed jars to prevent brine loss.  And these jars will be washed and rinsed thoroughly with vinegar to kill anything that might feast on the cucumber.  The challenge will be adjusting the spices from Grandma's 2-gallon recipe.

Financially...that's still around a $20 loss.  Much worse than the spilled $1 coke in the car.  But I'll keep trying to reincarnate this family tradition.

happy birthday martha

Lately I've been trying some new ways to connect with the women that have had the greatest impact on my life. 

Well, more than lately.  I have to admit that getting involved with the sanctuary committee at church was about more than flexing my architectural historical muscles...it was also about feeling out the shoes left by my mother's absence.  And of course I cannot fill them.  No matter how many times I'm compared to her.  But I did my little part despite the toxic political atmosphere. 

My latest endeavor was sewing cloth school bags for a charity.  Naturally, the sewing machine I found in the basement was less than useful, so I used my grandmother's machine.  Which is a bonus because she tweaked the design and the directions a little bit to make it simpler.  The stitches are rather crooked, with the occasional "whoa what happened" curves and snags, but the bags should hold.  I realized a little too late that I made them Florida colors.  But I don't think the bags are going to a part of the world where that will matter.  It's a way to connect to Grandma without having to force anything.  She knows all there is to know about needles and thread, and I don't.  And because the project sends school bags and supplies to children who might not otherwise go to school, including young girls who just need an education to show them there's more to life than what poverty or class or race has given them, I think I am fulfilling that Phi Beta Kappa goal of spreading the importance of education.

The next project won't be charity, but it might be the most difficult.  I'd like to try my other grandmother's pickle recipe.  Finding cucumbers won't be a problem (though my window of opportunity will close soon), since there are so many farmers markets around here.  The problem is pickling salt.  Walmart has pre-seasoned pickling and canning mixes (Dill, Bread & Butter, etc.) that don't help me much.  No surprise that Walmart is not helping.  But I can't even find any at the grocery store.  I'm stumped.  And I'm not even sure I have enough jars.

In my spare time I've been daydreaming of my own place to call home.  The stash of furniture and kitchen utensils and home décor I have in my father's basement has been taunting me...if only I had somewhere to put it and see it every day and live my life.  Most of what I bought from Target last week was to decorate my hypothetical dream apartment.  Those pillows will look so nice on my striped loveseat!

I do manage to stop myself from buying expensive pots and pans and knives.  So far.  I just can't wait.  So there's my Martha Stewart ode for the day.