WHY ARE THEY CALLED BREAD AND BUTTER PICKLES?

The last thing we hear from the young man who is standing at a pay telephone booth with a long line of disgusted folks behind him, waiting to use the phone while he's having an inconsequential chat with his mother is, "Why do they call it duck tape anyway?"

If I were to replace the young man, I'd probably say, "Why do they call 'em bread and butter pickles anyway. Are they made of bread and butter?"

Every pickle making season I ask myself that question. Are they made just to eat with bread and butter, which may not be so bad. Maybe it is because they are so common and so easily made. Anything smacking of bread and butter seems to conjure up simplicity. I guess it is about the easiest sandwich to make. My bread and cucumber sandwiches are even easier. No spreading at all of butter or margarine which can sometimes be aggravating if the butter or margarine is cold and the bread fresh. Slicing a few rounds of cucumbers onto bread is easier and, oh, so good, crisp and low caloried.

What brings this subject up is that it is time to make bread and butter pickles. You don't use your best cucumbers for this process. Those pretty little cucumbers have already been made into 14-day pickles, dill, sweet gherkins, or other such pickle aristocrats.

When~~~, shall I call them culls, start coming from the garden it is time to slice them, along with onions and let them "visit together" for a while, then pour over them a hot solution of vinegar, water, salt, sugar, mustard seed and curry powder. Simmer for a while and then can. Doesn't sound too "bread and buttery" does it? Unless you're speaking of simplicity.

Lou and I, coming home from school, could tell, long before we'd entered the kitchen door, that it had been pickle making day from the aroma that was seeping out. It gave us a good feeling, not only because of the pleasant smell, but because we'd had something to do with the raising of the cucumbers and we knew how good they were going to taste on the cold winter days along with the ham and gravy, potatoes and green beans and whatever else Mama and Grandma decided to bring up from the cellar for a suppertime meal.

The cellar, the barn, the smoke house and the pantry was our portfolio for getting through the winter in fine shape, and it was really a good feeling, preparing for the future in the summertime, to pick the berries, can the beans, dig the potatoes, dry the apples, etc. It was like going to the bank to put in money for when we'd need it. We just eliminated the~ middle man.

~~~~Mama's great masterpiece of relishes was~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ just-end-of-garden produce all ground up together in the sausage grinder and cooked in a salt, vinegar, sugar, water solution. She would grind, or have us take turns at the grinder, cabbages, onions, red and green peppers, green tomatoes and sometimes carrots. This really smelled good simmering on the back of the stove until she deemed it time to put the heated mixture into quart jars.

Later these jars were carried down cellar to mingle with the other rows upon rows of canned produce and fruit.

Hanks of dried sage hung from the smoke house rafters. Sister Lillian couldn't abide some of the little short stems of sage that inevitably got into the crushed sage leaves that went into the sausage, but I would just love, once again, to taste some country sausage that had a short stick of sage in it.

I'~d love it so much that I'm raising sage this summer which I'll hang upstairs to dry, buy some Jimmy Dean sausage and re-work it with some course sage leaves and a tiny stem or two of sage.

It might find its way into my turkey dressing too; Granddaughter may pick it out and exclaim, "What's this?" which wouldn't be very smart of her unless she wants me to embark on a long rambling story about sausage making and the growing of sage for sausage-making~~~~~~~ purposes. "It belongs to the mint family," I'd tell her, and anyone else around the table who would like to listen. "And it comes from the southern part of Europe. It has rough, woolly, grayish-green leaves and the flowers are usually a sort of lavender. We don't use them.

Sage smells like no ~other herb. Needs lots of sun and rich soil. How did it get to the United States? Who knows? Some pilgrims may have brought some seeds. Maybe the first Thanksgiving turkey dressing was seasoned with sage.

Squanto probably wanted to know what in the world it was. What? Oh, you want me to pass the bread and butter pickles. What? Heavens, I don't know why they are called bread and butter pickles but they go good with the sage seasoned dressing, don't they? What? Do I know what garrulous means? I think so, but I'll look it up to be sure.

REJOICE!