Pickle Pantry Purge

Cucumbers mid-pickle, back when “just one more batch” still felt reasonable.

Remember the pandemic?

When the world narrowed to our homes and routines fell apart, many of us found novel ways to cope with lockdown. Some baked sourdough. Some learned to cut their own hair.

I made pickles.

While humans struggled, my cucumber vines were thriving. They didn’t get the memo about global uncertainty. They just kept producing—long, straight, and relentless.

Normally, excess produce went to work with me. Or to the food bank. Or to friends happy to take a bag of cucumbers off my hands. But suddenly, all those outlets disappeared. Giving food away wasn’t simple—or sometimes even allowed.

So I did what felt responsible at the time.

I saved it.

And by saved it, I mean I made pickles until our house smelled permanently of brine and my husband politely—but repeatedly—asked if I could please stop.

I did not stop.

Cucumbers went first. Then zucchini. Then peppers. If it fit in a jar and tolerated vinegar, it was fair game. I told myself I was being practical. Resourceful. Prepared.

The pantry filled. The world slowly reopened. And the pickles… stayed.

The Honest Math of the Pantry

A year passed. Then another.

The jars sat there, lined up neatly, waiting for a future version of me who apparently ate pickles with every meal. That person never arrived.

Eventually, it became obvious: these pickles had nowhere to go. They weren’t bad. They just weren’t wanted. Not at the scale I had imagined during a very strange chapter of history.

So I finally did it.

I drained the jars. Composted the solids. Let the glass move on to another purpose. A full pickle purge.

Lesson Learned About Pickles

Here’s the part I carry forward:

Just because you can can, doesn’t mean you should.

Preservation isn’t only about skill. It’s about realism.

Do the math:

• How many jars does your household actually eat in a year?

• Do you reach for pickles with joy—or obligation?

• Are you preserving for nourishment… or for reassurance?

There’s no shame in what we did to cope. Gardening fed many of us in ways that went far beyond calories during those years. But abundance still asks for discernment.

Now, I preserve differently. Fewer jars. More intention. And a lot more honesty about what future-me will truly enjoy.

The garden will always give generously.

The pantry doesn’t need to prove anything.

Growing with you,

Cindy