When I was younger, I craved the usual stuff: pizza, ice cream, and in the midst of humid Baltimore summers, the local special, a chocolate sno-ball with marshmallow filling (this ice-based treat is not to be compared to the sno-cones that are triangularly shaped, often red, white and blue, and served in other parts of the country. Baltimore sno-balls are a delicacy not to be missed.)
But times have changed. I still love me some junk food, and there will always be a place in my heart (and stomach) for one of those sno-balls, but if I had to choose one food item that I dream about and would prefer never to live without, it is this: the jalapeño stuffed olive.
Alone, the jalapeño stuffed olive is all kinds of delicious, but after resting at the bottom of the martini glass for a half an hour, while I sip on my drink, that olive is nectar of the gods.
Two of our California cousins are in town for a few days and showed up for a visit around eight this evening. We don’t get to see Jill and Mike often so there is a lot to catch up on when we get together. What better excuse is there than visiting with old friends, who happen to also be family, to bring out my special olives.
My husband does not understand that I would probably be happiest with ten of the olives in a martini glass with only a splash of liquor, so he gave each of us only two olives per glass. After I ate mine, I eyed the olives in his glass and strong armed him to share his with me. Which he did because I can be a pain in the ass when I want something badly and, well, he had what I wanted.
I’ve tried the bleu cheese stuffed olives and the standard pimento stuffed ones and they’re okay. I will gladly eat them if offered to me.
But, the jalapeño stuffed olive lives in a category unto itself.
It is true that when nobody’s home, I may or may not curl up on the sofa with a brand new bottle of these amazing olives. And a fork.
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