So I became an addict sometime around 1970. In Miami, on Collins Avenue, at the coffee shop lunch counter of the Eden Roc. It was a glorious day.
You see, in those days, all the class hotels along Millionaire’s Row served up all the half sour pickles you could eat, for free, 24 hours a day. Bowl after bowl after bowl, the entire length of the counter, on every table, at every booth. These wondrous, pale green inside, brilliant green outside, incredibly crunchy, manna from heaven, half sour pickles.
I’d grown up with dill pickles, and had met many a sour pickle, and even some sweet pickles were actually pretty good under some circ*mstances. But I had never before met a half sour. And when I did, I knew I had found pickle perfection.
Unfortunately, since Goldi’s Deli closed about 10 years ago, there has been no source of half sour pickles in this part of the world. Occasionally, a jar of BaTampte half sours would show up at the grocery store, but then months would pass without another. I suffered as long as I could. Now I make my own.
These are not yet pickle perfection; I’m still ‘in search of,’ on that journey. But they are certainly Pretty Good Pickles . . .
Here’s what you’ll need:
1/3 tsp. whole coriander seeds
1/3 tsp. brown mustard seeds
1 or 2 whole allspice
1/3 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1/3 tsp. black pepper corns
¼ tsp. dill seeds
1 – 2 Tbsp. dill weed
2 or 3 pieces broken dried bay leaf
4 – 6 cloves garlic
¼ cup pickling salt
4 cups water
8 or 9 pickling cukes
Here’s how you do it.
First, buy some pickling salt. Look for salt that specifically says “pickling salt.” That’s because pickling salt is simply plain, pure salt. No iodine, no additives to ‘ensure free flow,’ no nothing. Just salt, sodium chloride, NaCl, that’s all. Even Kosher salt, these days, usually has additives (presumably Kosher additives, but still . . .) For a pickling brine of any kind, just plain salt is best.
Second, a word about the Pickle Police (with thanks, or apologies, to Emeril). This is a cold, fresh-pack approach to pickles. No heat, no boiling, no sterilization in the autoclave, or canning in a boiling water bath, no antisepsis of any kind other than normal kitchen cleanliness. In other words, against all the rules promulgated by the FDA and every other official food agency. So if you want to stay out of the hospital, be scrupulous in your cleaning.
The process itself is pretty simple. Dissolve the salt in the water. Grind up all the dry ingredients except the dill weed and the bay leaf in a mortar. Chop the garlic. Wash the cukes and pack them in the jar. Dump in all the dry stuff, all the garlic, and pour in the salt water to cover everything. Wait. Chill. Pickles.
Too quick? Ok. One more time . . .
While you’re gathering and measuring and grinding and chopping, let your cukes soak in a sinkful of ice cold water. And be sure to snip off any little stem parts that are still attached. The stems are very bitter and can ruin an otherwise great batch of pickles.
The amount of salt, and the other ingredients, will, of course, depend on the size of your pickle jar. Mine holds about 8 or 9 cucumbers and takes nearly 4 cups of salt water to cover the pickles. So all my measurements are based on my jar. You’ll need to adjust based on your jar. Also, remember that even though I’ve offered specific amounts for the ingredients, I measure them all in the palm of my hand – well, except for the water and the salt . . .
When you grind up the dry ingredients, don’t turn it to dust. You just want to release some of the flavors and let them blend for a minute or two. I usually watch the brown mustard seeds, and as soon as I see them becoming a yellow powder, I’ll stop. The allspice are usually still whole at that point, as are the peppercorns. (In fact, I’ll often just add the peppercorns at the end, without even putting them in the mortar.)
The salt and garlic will be providing most of the noticeable flavor for your pickles, so getting the garlic quantity right is a critical step. Since I didn’t understand that at first, I erred on the side of caution. I urge you to err on the other side. And keep in mind that smaller cloves are often more strongly flavored than large ones. If your garlic cloves are the size of your thumb, use 6 (or 8 or . . .)
When you pack your cukes into your jar, try to leave an inch or two of headroom above the pickles. If the pickles are not completely covered in the brine, they’ll just rot, and you’ll be calling those Pickle Police. So push and shove a little to get them in with some room to spare.
When the pickles are packed, pour in the contents of the mortar, the chopped garlic, the dill weed, the bay leaf, and anything else you decided not to grind earlier. Then fill the jar with the salt water, right up to the top.
Now they get to sit for a few days, somewhere cool and dry (and clean!) Do not tighten the lid while the pickles are sitting. You want the natural airborne beasties to get into the jar and help the pickles start to ferment. Leave them at room temperature for at least 48 hours – I usually wait 72 hours – and then screw that cap on tight and put them in the refrigerator. Oh, and that little ‘diaper dish’ under the jar is a really good idea. Some of the brine is guaranteed to spill out as the fermentation gets going; catching it in the bucket is better than wiping it off the table!
(And, no, that line around the upper part of the jar is not the fluid level – it’s just some gum from the original label on the jar. My pickles are most definitely completely submerged!)
As I said, these are not yet Pickle Perfection, so if, in your experiments, you stumble across the path to perfection (or already know it), please share. Half sour pickle lovers across the globe will thank you for it . . . In the meantime, enjoy these . .
