Adventures in pickling

I'm a slacker. It's quite sad. I buy every organic jalapeno sold by the sweet-faced farmers' market teenager. I'm pickling them!, I say. I don't really care!, she thinks.

The earth spins. The recipe for my August cookbook challenge sits open on the table. The jalapenos decay in my fridge.

Although they are salvageable, I buy more. This time from an exceedingly disinterested teenager from a different farmers' market. I'm picking them!, I say. Six dollars, he shrugs.

And now, I pickle. Except for using canning tongs, I follow the recipe to the letter.

Pickling is fun. One day I'll buy those tongs I need. But I like a challenge.

Why did I make pickled jalapenos? I don't even eat pickled jalapenos. One brave bite and I couldn't feel my lower lip for like an hour. I like sweet hot pickles, so why didn't I adjust the sugar? And they're not as crisp as I wish they were. How the FUCK do you pickle something and keep it crisp? Once I get past the vinegar onslaught, I notice the jalapeno flavor. It's quite good.

But still, what am I gonna do with all these? Anybody want some pickles?