Close to Nowhere
I love pickles. I grew up eating peanut butter and pickle sandwiches. One of my best childhood memories is walking to the Blind Man's store in our neighborhood with my sister Peggy to get a huge Kosher dill pickle to make the sandwiches for lunch.
My mom was a Yankee and I've always thought maybe she got the idea up North. Her dad was German and her mom was French/Russian so who knows where she got that "recipe." I do know most people say "ick" when I mention the sandwiches.
They're really easy to make. Two slices of bread (I used to only eat white, especially with this recipe, but now I use honey wheat bread and can't abide white). Anyway, two slices of bread, spread both slices with peanut butter. You have to do both slices otherwise the pickle juice makes the bread way too mushy.
Now the complicated part, depending on what type of Kosher dill pickle you have. And it has to be Kosher dill! If you have a whole, large pickle, slice it into thinnish slices and lay on one side of the bread. If you have hamburger dill chips or any kind of kosher dill slices, lay them on one side of the bread. Then, put the other slice on top and enjoy. I like lots of pickles so I lay mine on thick. My late husband Pop used to make these and he'd add mayonnaise. Ick!
I was thinking about all this because dialysis makes my blood pressure fall really low. And I feel terrible. I posted something about it on Facebook, looking for anything to help, and one of my youngest brother's teenage friends answered.
Steve and Danny (my brother) were part of a teenage gang, consisting mostly of Steve, his brother Paul, Danny and our next door neighbor's son, the late, lamented Johnny Key. These guys were really teenage boys!
Danny lived with us after our mother died. We lived in a subdivision out near Shelby Forest, near Memphis, Tenn. Danny's room was in the back of the house and he frequently snuck out the back door.
One late night I accidentally found him gone. I went to the front door, looked out and lo and behold, I'd timed it perfectly. Steve and Paul were in their parents' car, coming around the corner. Danny was sitting on the hood of the car and I believe was either singing or reciting something.
His face was totally priceless when he opened the door to come in and I was standing there with my arms folded. Just priceless!
But anyway again. Steve replied to my post on Facebook and said his dad used to drink pickle juice.
Last Wednesday night when I got home from dialysis, once again my blood pressure was extremely low and I felt terrible. I sent son Kris into the kitchen to fetch the jar of pickle juice I'd saved and after about 10 or so spoonfuls I was happier. In about half an hour, my blood pressure was nearly normal again.
Steve's dad and pickle juice have saved the day! Did I mention I love pickles?