A pickle is a cucumber that is preserved in vinegar, salt and other spices. As a child I never liked pickles. So much so that if they touched another item of food, it was forever unclean and unfit for my consumption. The same goes for honey mustard, black olives, beets and Catalina salad dressing.
It’s typical for most children to keep a running laundry list of inedible foods, and they have plenty of ways to avoid and dispose of these foods. The average American family has a dog, the true first in-home garbage disposal, and that average family’s dog probably consumes a shocking amount of the country’s vegetables. The kids without dogs have to resort to other methods of subterfuge. My brother once flushed an entire apple down the toilet in an attempt to hide it from my mother. In case you’re wondering, the toilet is not an efficient method of getting rid of a whole apple.
Nowadays I don’t hate pickles. At some point in my development, maybe at a barbecue or 4 bites too late into a burger, I became reacquainted with them. Perhaps 3 times a year I eat one with fervor and joy, the other 362 days I won’t touch them.
Life is too short to proclaim an all out hatred on something – maybe you can learn to love it occasionally, if you just give it a chance.
Except for beets, you should always hate beets.