Miroku hated pickles. He was willing to do practically anything just to avoid them. He could remember sneaking them off his plate and then throwing away while living with Mushin. It had been easy since the old monk hadn't been one to pay much attention to details.
It was still quite easy while travelling with Sango and their friends. Sango was much more observant, noticing his strategy and not letting him continue avoiding pickles. But it took only one meditation session to find a solution to this problem.
His curse turned out to be a blessing.
The Wind Tunnel could suck in any amount of the vile veggies and all Miroku had to do was to pull his beads to the side a little bit pretending heas adjusting his grip on his chopsticks. And when he was moving his hand away there was no sign of the pickles.
But then Naraku was dead and Sango became his wife. And Miroku had to find an another way to avoid pickles. He had to sacrifice many meditation sessions to find a way to avoid his nemesis.
Hard was the live of a holy man.