Many generations ago my family, like most others, canned just about everything. Tomatoes, sour kraut, dill pickles, beets, sweet pickles, okra, green beans, jams, pie filling, and many more were all staples of the family pantry. Recipes to can, preserve, or pickle just about anything were fairly common and essential to survival in some cases. Generally everyone had a garden and devoted much of their time to growing and preserving the fruits of their labor.

Over time canning transformed from a necessity to an art of some sort. Today it is a treat to have and enjoy home canned foods. We no longer make time to grow and "put up" our own food simply because it is less expensive, more convenient, and certainly less time consuming to just go to the supermarket and buy what we want. As a result, the quality and flavor of our foods have been compromised. In addition, many of those recipes and processes have long been forgotten.

A great deal has changed over the years but some of those old recipes are still alive today. Thanks to special people in my family, like my Aunt Linda and Grandma Helen, I was able to enjoy a few of the most wonderful flavors imaginable. Wonderful treats like Aunt Linda’s pickles and Grandma Helen’s sour kraut were common highlights to the past-time of growing up. I have very special people in my family that are still willing to put the time and effort into providing these special wonders that make an ordinary life extra-ordinary. As I grew older I realized this value; so naturally I was compelled to share it.

HOW IT ALL STARTED

As a young boy, my cousin Heath and I would spend the whole of a summer day outside fishing, hunting, swimming in the creeks, and playing baseball. My fondest memories are of Home Run Derby. We would have preferred to play a real game but most of the time we couldn’t get enough people together for teams, so off to the cow pasture we would go; generally just Heath and I. We played our own version of Home Run Derby. We wore ourselves out pitching to ourselves, smacking the ball, and chasing hits all over a minefield of cow patties and rocks. We played until we couldn’t hardly stand up…or the smell of ourselves. Afterwards we would cool off on the shaded porch. Aunt Linda would bring out a pitcher of ice cold sweet tea and a jar of her home-made dill pickles. We were in heaven. She always said "don’t eat the whole jar ‘cause it’ll make ya sick" but of course we did anyway. Yup, she was right as usual, but it was simply impossible to have that kind of discipline with something so good, and well, it was sure worth the belly ache.

Since I was out of town most of the time, it was always a treat to go to Aunt Linda’s and raid the pickle supply. She would also give me a jar or two for Christmas, birthday, and special visits. Unfortunately this didn’t settle to well with my dad because I pretty much took his place on her gift list (she could only make so much and I was a passionate consumer). I was also kinda stingy when I got home with them and had a tendency to hide them. This sort of thing happens when your supply is limited and you have to compete with family. I would usually share one jar and savor the other jar (and juice) all to myself. As I got older my conscience overwhelmed me and something had to be done. I had to have more but it wasn’t fair to deprive my family of this oddity of happiness and joy.

So I asked her to teach me how to make them. She did, God bless her! I felt as if I had been anointed. I started a garden and put up my first batch in 1996. Now that I could make all I needed I wanted to share with friends and family. I began giving some jars for birthday and Christmas presents and the next thing ya know I was giving away over a hundred jars a year. Well that was fine and dandy but then everyone started wanting more and some friends had more expectations than I was able to keep up with. Not only that, but if I missed someone that I had treated the year before, it was assumed that I didn’t like them as much or at all. Nasty rumors and vicious accusations were rampant. This, of course, was not the case at all. I had met new friends and the word was spreading. I just couldn’t keep up or for that matter afford to. Something had to give.

I came up with a demand control (so I thought). I decided to give only one jar on occasion to each and if they wanted more they would have to buy them at $10.00 a jar. This price seemed reasonable to me for the time, ingredients, and effort involved. I thought this would suppress some demand but just the opposite happened. I started getting tons of orders with advance payment and the next thing I knew I was putting up 300 to 400 jars a year and selling over half of them. Due to request, I began creating new recipes and experimenting with different flavors. In some cases, I improved existing recipes and processes. I enjoyed it so much that I knew it was time to take it to the next level.

In 2003 a good friend, Ted Cassidy, said I could use some of his land for cultivation. I went into it full on planning to make over 10,000 jars and distribute through small market stores and trade shows. The crop was beautiful and hopes were high. Then the rain stopped. The creek not only went dry but it stayed dry… over 2 months. I watched everything die slowly. The local farmers said they hadn’t seen it this dry in over 50 years. We had 10 days over a 100 degrees. They said they couldn’t remember the last time the creek stayed dry over a couple of weeks. Hells Bells! I was done. I lost my rear.

I found my rear in 2005 and started over. Now I am back up to about 800 jars of pickled pickles, peppers, green tomatoes, and relish. The crop is beautiful and the product is spectacular. Thank you for taking the time to learn about Cobinsteinz gourmet pickles and I hope you enjoy every bite just as much as I do.