I Ate an Entire Jar of Pickled Okra

It's no secret that I have always been fascinated by the grocery store and food markets. As a single girl, I typically do not need to purcase much while I'm food shopping, however, I typically spend way too much time walking through aisles ogling the packaging of products.



Now that I'm back in SC, one thing that I have thoroughly embraced is the art of the farmer's market and the items that are packaged in these southern staples. Sure... there are farmer's markets across New England and one of my favorite pastimes while I was settled in Yankee-land was heading to Honey Pot Farms to go apple picking each fall.

However, there are certain things that farmer's markets up north do not do and I have missed them so. Pickling is one of the first traditions that comes to mind when I contemplate on what I have missed, well... more specifically, pickling okra. As a matter of fact, the day I took these photos I bought a can of pickled okra and then proceeded to eat the entire jar of the crunchy, spicy green goodie otherwise known as Abelmoschus esculentus.



This particular farmer's market is located at the corner of King's Rd and Lake Arrowhead Rd (for those of you, this is a few blocks toward the ocean if you use Bimini's as a reference point).

Not only does this market have a vast array of pickled products they also have fresh shrimp, fruit and they have a giant pot of peanuts boiling in the back.


Enjoy...

By Any Means Neccessary

As I rolled back in to the Dirty Myrtle, via highway 90, after having been away from my home town for many years, I was feeling a bit nostalgic for the busy intersections and overwhelming grdlock of my adopted Boston. And then... I saw this sign on the side of the road, in a section of the beach we like to call Poplar. The minute I was close enough to read the sign comments came rushing in to my head faster than pop- ups on a porn site.

- So, can you mapquest the G- Spot?

- The quest is over, the road to the G-Spot has been found.

- Is the clientelle at The G-Spot often late in arriving because they keep getting lost?

However, I think my favorite portion of the sign is the sub-head, "By Any Means Neccessary." I applaud the dedication of G-Spot revelers. I think if we all had this sort of determination there might be a few more satisfied people, well at lest in the sack.

As I pulled off to the side of the road to take this photo, the reporter in me desperately wanted to stroll inside of the establishment, but alas the petite southern flower in me warned me that this might not be an establishment for a lady. And then, I saw the homemade disclaimer posted outside of the door.



It was at this moment that I realized that returning to my roots was going to be quite the adventure. I implore you to add your own comments about the G-Spot or anything else Dirty Myrtle related to this blog.