The Pickle Story

I have never been a fan of pickles. Being a lady,  I am assumed to be a pickle lover. So when I refuse to have them when offered, it astonishes many. The only pickles I would consume with some interest is of stuffed chillies, chillies and garlic, chicken and peaches. And I had never thought that I would ever make pickle on my own. Before getting married an aunt-in-law asked me if I knew to prepare pickles, I replied with a smile that neither I eat pickles nor prepare any. But what did I know. Love and care makes you do things you think you are incapable of.

My maternal grandmother (Aita) is a fantastic cook. And her pickles are known far and wide. For my wedding, she prepared three pickles–chillies and garlic, olives, and starfruit. Everyone in my new home loved them, especially the chillies one. The recipe was asked for along with the sample. Then with self surprise I asked Ma the recipe.

Once in Delhi, I was on a mission. A kilo of green chillies were bought. Mummy cleaned and dried them, while Daddy chopped them all for me. Yellow mustard seeds was washed, dried and grounded, garlic and  ginger chopped. The recipe was confirmed and paraphrased from Ma over the phone. Deta was worried how would I prepare it on my own. But everything went on as it should have. Pickle was made and rested. It is still resting, now in the sunshine when available.  But yes, it is being consumed from day one. And so I have not failed I think!
So as I said love and care makes you do things you think you are incapable of. I am now a part of a family who are fond of pickles. A family I am expected to take care of. A family who is me now. And this is what made the first pickle story of all my (future) pickle stories.

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