Ed, we didn't have any stores in the country (Seekonk) that sold pickles in that form. A town of about 5000 counting the cows in the 1940S in fact we only had a small market that sold a variety of items. My mother would do her shopping at Treglia's Italian market on Broadway next to Asquino's restaurant in East Providence. My first real episode with the pickle was when I was in my 30S at a Jewish deli in Florida the Rascal House. Ahh, they would drop a tray of pickles at the table to go along with a pastrami or corn beef sandwich, went there many times and never disappointed.
You picked a dilly of a subject for this week's installment. Who would think that a lowly dill pickle would have such an ancestry and a multitude of dilly stories. My best memory is having a dill pickle with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The combination is almost sinful. When I want to go to my dark side, I've been known to indulge in gherkins.
Ed, I have a vivid memory of dill pickles from, of all places, India. When I was in the Peace Corps 50 years ago, dill was an unknown herb in Rajasthan. I was longing for a taste of home -- perhaps I complained to my high school buddy. She sent me, in the mail, a fat packet of fresh dill! I couldn't believe it stayed fresh over 10,000 miles, but it did. I made a batch of dill pickles, which all the Volunteers for miles around enjoyed along with me, and just because I'm the child of Great Depression parents, I saved the dill and made a second batch with the same dill. It wasn't bad either. The funny thing about it is that I'm not really that fond of strong dill pickles, and have hardly had one since.
I still remember those pickles in a sealed plastic bag, they were a nickel at Shaheens Grocery on Wickenden St. in Fox Point, a wonderful little market run by Abe Shaheen and George Abrams.
In the face of all the discouraging political news I’ve already read this morning, this was a pleasant reprieve. Thanks for making me smile at the image of you as a 10-year-old biting into a pickle. I too favor dill pickles.
Brings back fond memories of my brother & I going to buy a pickle from a barrel. We would go to Sam's grocery store in Williamsburgh , Brooklyn, which was not the trendy fashionable neighborhood it is now. More of a ghetto. We lived on the top floor of a five story tenement building (no elevator so it did not qualify as a "high rise"!). Runnig up & down kept us in shape! Anyway, we would give Sam a dime & he would give us the forceps to take out a sour pickle. The top of the barrel was covered with brine and many roaches would be walking across over the brine. No matter ! My brother would dip in and get the largest pickle! Sam would put it in a wax bag and we were off! Could'nt wait to get upstairs and start crunching on that pickled cucumber. Mad our bologna sandwhiches taste muuch better! Sure miss thoses old days!
Ed, we didn't have any stores in the country (Seekonk) that sold pickles in that form. A town of about 5000 counting the cows in the 1940S in fact we only had a small market that sold a variety of items. My mother would do her shopping at Treglia's Italian market on Broadway next to Asquino's restaurant in East Providence. My first real episode with the pickle was when I was in my 30S at a Jewish deli in Florida the Rascal House. Ahh, they would drop a tray of pickles at the table to go along with a pastrami or corn beef sandwich, went there many times and never disappointed.
OMG, what you missed, Peter. I believe pickles engender immunity. Except for tonsillitis, I was disease free. Of course, I was vaccinated!
Yes, I did and had the mumps and tonsilitis. Still own the tonsils. Ahh, if I only knew.
They, like the rest of my family, were just plain folk, who all grew up
in Providence, had families but all stayed in RI. We would all get together on the 3 major
holidays, Thanksgiving night at my Uncles house in Warwick, Christmas night at another
Uncles house in Johnston and on Wisdom St. Easter Sunday night. My Mothers family (Irish)
was a bit smaller, but when the families got together, it was so loud but great!
Beautiful, memorable times, Tom
Wow! You remember my Aunt Sylvia and Uncle Lenny? As you came down Wisdom, they lived
in the small bungalow ( I don't remember the number) on the left, about half way down the
street. Sadly, my Aunt passed away from cancer May 3, 1975 when I was 14. My Uncle remarried
and moved to N. Providence in 1980. He passed in 1995. I have wonderful memories of visiting
them at that house with the whole family getting together. They had 2 children, Karen and Len Jr.
She's in Florida and he's in Arizona. Those were the days!
Tom, they lived near the Barretts and the Crowleys. Further east down the street were the Terry's and the McCaughys and the Pilkingtons.
You picked a dilly of a subject for this week's installment. Who would think that a lowly dill pickle would have such an ancestry and a multitude of dilly stories. My best memory is having a dill pickle with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The combination is almost sinful. When I want to go to my dark side, I've been known to indulge in gherkins.
Pickle w peanut butter and jelly. It's a
dilly. Hmmm. Are you pregnant?
Ed, I have a vivid memory of dill pickles from, of all places, India. When I was in the Peace Corps 50 years ago, dill was an unknown herb in Rajasthan. I was longing for a taste of home -- perhaps I complained to my high school buddy. She sent me, in the mail, a fat packet of fresh dill! I couldn't believe it stayed fresh over 10,000 miles, but it did. I made a batch of dill pickles, which all the Volunteers for miles around enjoyed along with me, and just because I'm the child of Great Depression parents, I saved the dill and made a second batch with the same dill. It wasn't bad either. The funny thing about it is that I'm not really that fond of strong dill pickles, and have hardly had one since.
With such a great experience and story, Karen, ya gotta go fer the dills again. C'mon 😉
Very nice,thanks for the memories, Frank
I still remember those pickles in a sealed plastic bag, they were a nickel at Shaheens Grocery on Wickenden St. in Fox Point, a wonderful little market run by Abe Shaheen and George Abrams.
And they gave you immunity from diseases, Eh?
Not really still had to stand in line for all those shots and the yearly Schick test.
Yep, mee too.
In the face of all the discouraging political news I’ve already read this morning, this was a pleasant reprieve. Thanks for making me smile at the image of you as a 10-year-old biting into a pickle. I too favor dill pickles.
It's always a pleasure to hear from you, Dianne. Yes, we need reprieves from the news these days, so I try to keep my blogs simple and fun.
I'm convinced the dills boosted my immunity when I was a Kid. I was rarely sick. I received my vaccinations of course.
Ed, the name of the variety store sounds familiar, was it on Academy Ave and do you remember
exactly where it was? I went out with a couple of friends last Saturday night up to Cassarino's on
the Hill and then took them through the old neighborhood. We went down Wisdom Ave where
my Aunt and Uncle lived. Last name was Mernick. Neighborhood sure has changed.
Madeline's was on Putnam Street, just a block from the school.
You remember I grew up on Wealth Avenue.
I remember The Mernicks.
I was lucky to grow up in a family that owned 5 NY Kosher Delis!!! Pickles galore from United Pickle in the Bronx !
Lucky you, Alan. Do you believe, as I do, that pickles enhance your immunity? I was never sick as a Kid. Of course, I got my vaccines.
Well , I was never absent from school and did 32 years at RWMC without a single sick day.......
I shoulda known. Dill Pickles!
Brings back fond memories of my brother & I going to buy a pickle from a barrel. We would go to Sam's grocery store in Williamsburgh , Brooklyn, which was not the trendy fashionable neighborhood it is now. More of a ghetto. We lived on the top floor of a five story tenement building (no elevator so it did not qualify as a "high rise"!). Runnig up & down kept us in shape! Anyway, we would give Sam a dime & he would give us the forceps to take out a sour pickle. The top of the barrel was covered with brine and many roaches would be walking across over the brine. No matter ! My brother would dip in and get the largest pickle! Sam would put it in a wax bag and we were off! Could'nt wait to get upstairs and start crunching on that pickled cucumber. Mad our bologna sandwhiches taste muuch better! Sure miss thoses old days!