Pavlov and Dill Pickles

When I was a kid we studied Pavlov and his ‘conditioned reflex’ theory. You remember…he turned on a metronome at the same time he fed his dogs. Soon the dogs began to salivate just at the sound of the metronome.

I always thought of Pavlov when I went to get one of my mom’s dill pickles. Just thinking about them always made my mouth water. Still does.

Last week I decided it was time to make some home made dills. I had all the stuff I needed…wide mouth jars with the rubber thingee to keep it sealed. Loads of fresh dill. Ahhhhh love the smell of fresh dill. Garlic…keeps away the Angel of Death. You didn’t know? Ask the 2,000 Year Old Man. “Just before I go to retire, I eat a nice pound and a half of garlic. Then when the Angel of Death knocks at my door, I look at him and say ‘Whooooooo is it?’ and he says WOOO and runs away.” (AH Mel Brooks, I love you!). Pickling spices, small cukes, kosher salt, and tap water.

I made four kilo of dills. And about a week later took some to my mom. My mom is going to be eighty-three next month and she is the pickle maven. Ma took one taste and ooed and ahhed and I knew I was a hit! So then we went to the shuk and made her some dills. Don’t tell anyone but she eats them like peanuts…never mind the salt…we won’t discuss that when home made dills are involved.

Two days ago my oldest grandson turned four and I decided it was time he had a real birthday party at our house. I invited my husband’s immediate family and we had around twenty adults, the birthday boy and his eighteen month old sister.

I had a black forest chocolate cake…and yes it was mine (I paid for it myself) and a table full of food plus three pizzas and dishes of my pickles.

At one time during the evening I looked at the table and there was my mom taking a pickle. Standing next to her was her great granddaughter grabbing a pickle for herself.

Ahhhhhhhhh the joy that surged through my soul at that moment.

Memories of Windsor and my mom downstairs in our basement making fifty jars of pickles for us and our friends and relatives.

The thrill of watching my mom and my granddaughter biting into my dills and the look of joy on their face as the pickle juice swam over their tongues.

I love chocolate. I love anything with yeast.

But only home made dill pickles make me salivate.

What do you think of that Mr. Pavlov?

Shabbat shalom from Jerusalem.

Have a great day…stay safe…and thanks for dropping in.