Missing flavor

There are so many foods that I can buy in Japan that was never possible for me to purchase here years ago.  It is so exciting to go to a store and find a familiar food that my American palate has been missing.  Yellow mustard can be found in import stores, and I am so grateful for this.  I am a big fan of yellow mustard in my egg salad, tuna salad, on hamburgers, and more.  It may not seem like a big deal to not have access to this condiment, and most of the time it isn't.  But when you haven't had something in a long time, it can be torture. 

Recently a friend went to Costco (I dream of someday going and checking it out, but I must admit I am a little afraid of the overzealous joy that may overtake me once I walk inside).  She sent a Line to all the park moms asking if there was anything we wanted. 

I have been on the search for dill pickles for months.  Dill pickles are one of my favorite foods in the entire world.  I had a source for them, but soon that store stopped carrying them.  I was crushed.  I kept returning and returning, hoping they would go back on the shelves.  But alas, I was out of luck.  Every time we would go out for hamburgers, most of them came sans pickles.  If the burger was served with pickles I would ask for extras, and I would always been greeted with rejections. 

I miss my delicious, sour pickles.  I grew dill in my garden to make my own, but then I couldn't find any white vinegar.  My dreams dashed, I decided to take a stab in the dark and ask my friend if Costco carried dill pickles.

Another friend had to translate my request.  Dill pickles just are not common here and my friend at the store had no idea what I was asking for.  After a quick translation and a educated search, she found my pickles. 

I was ecstatic.  While these don't compare to the pickles I make each summer in the US, they are so much better than nothing.  All my friends wondered why I was so happy.  After all, they haven't been denied a favorite food for almost a year.

When she was done shopping at Costco, she drove to the park to deliver everyone's goods.  Big packages of paper towels were split between households and even a box of Oxyclean was carefully weighed and divided.  And my two jars of dill pickles were all my own.  I couldn't wait.  I cracked the jar open right in the park. 

The first bite of crunchy gloriousness did not disappoint.  My son rushed over, pulling himself away from the play structure, in order to get a pickle, too.  A huge smile quickly spread across his face.  He even rolled his eyes with delight.  After answering several questions about how we "use" pickles (they don't need to be cooked; we eat them strait from the jar; I always save the brine and soak hard boiled eggs in them for even more enjoyment), I doled several out for them to try.  Some people like them.  Others did not.  No matter the results, I was happy to share.

Since bringing home the pickles, I did not try to savor them.  I devoured the large jar in a matter of days.  Then I made pickled eggs.  And my mouth was happy.