I’ve gotten to the point in my life that I’ve begun to notice my tastes have changed.  It’s not so much that I prefer some tastes over others, but more that I crave things I never have before, and look less forward to other tastes I’ve always loved.

Let’s talk cabbage, shall we?

My mother makes a mean cole slaw:  chopped green cabbage, mayonnaise, a few other ingredients I’m not too sure of, and pickle juice.  There always seemed to be cole slaw at picnics and parties in the summer and I never understood completely why people enjoyed it.  It was nearly colorless and somewhat soupy.  But the pickle juice saved it for me, so if I happened upon a cole slaw that didn’t have pickle juice, then forget about it.  None of that cloyingly sweet stuff for me.  Definitely nothing with Miracle Whip.  Goodness.  No, it was the slight tartness I was attracted to.

Now?  Well, I’m all about that tartness.  I love raw cabbage.  I love the crunch.  I love the not sweet, but slightly briney quality of a very good slaw — one you’d want to heap onto a plate of ribs, or a knockwurst.

Serve me up.

Continue reading Pink Slaw