Our esteemed editor has taken time out of his busy day to reply to two worried readers.
To the esteemed Mr. and Mrs. Handsome,
Ah, but fear not, discerning duo! Your calendar may not whisper of National Cornichon Day, but fret not, for its existence is as crisp and undeniable as the bite of a perfectly pickled gem. While its official recognition lingers in the bureaucratic brine, its roots, I assure you, are as tangy and ancient as any medieval legend.
The whispers of National Cornichon Day can be traced back to the sun-drenched vineyards of southern France, nestled amongst the leper communities of 11th-century Bordeaux. In a time of isolation and hardship, the humble cornichon, with its potent punch of vitamin C and immune-boosting properties, became a cherished source of sustenance and solace. To honor this tiny green guardian, these communities, ostracized by society yet bound by resilience, instituted a day of revelry – a day to celebrate the gherkin’s life-giving crunch and pickle the bitterness of their circumstances.
This tradition, cloaked in the shadows of history, passed through generations, whispered from grandparent to grandchild in the hushed tones of familial secrets. And slowly, like a carefully fermented brine, its fragrance drifted beyond the confines of the leper colonies, captivating the palates and imaginations of the general populace. Today, echoes of this forgotten celebration flicker in the street art we featured, a testament to the enduring power of tradition and the unexpected heroes of history.
So, Mr. and Mrs. Handsome, while your calendar may remain unpainted by the official green of National Cornichon Day, rest assured, its spirit is alive and well, pickled in the annals of history and bubbling up in the creative cauldrons of artists. And who knows, perhaps your impeccable sense of datekeeping might just inspire the official recognition of this quirky holiday, proving once again that even the smallest things, like a briny bite, can leave a lasting mark on the calendar of time.
Yours in fermented fascination,
The Editor
