For the longest time, I thought that people who patronize this place are insane. It sells pickled cucumbers steeped in Kool-Aid or jam. I once accepted a sample while queuing up for another stall. One lick of a pickled cucumber smothered in maraschino cherry goo almost sent me into a hyperglycemic coma. To say that it tastes bad is like saying that the sun is warm. I’m from the USSR. I have tasted the most bizarre gastronomic concoctions. Plus, I adore pickles. But that candied pickle was atrocious beyond my scariest imaginings.
Finally, after a random YouTube segment, I figured out this place’s mystery. It’s an African-American tradition, a cultural thing. Twenty-eight years in North America, and nobody bothered to explain. Far be it from me to criticize anybody’s culinary traditions given that I’ve seen people look in horror at the Soviet-style buckwheat we chomp up like it’s nobody’s business. But I would have appreciated a hint.
Speaking of culture-specific foodstuffs, today I bought five 1 lb tubs of this:
I would have gotten more, but that’s all they had. People of my cultural background are dedicated to this thing. I had it for dinner today with plain kefir and cinnamon. We use it to make pies or quiche sort of dishes. A Kool-Aid pickle it isn’t, but it’s an example of a culture-specific food.
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