It was my sister’s birthday recently (meaning like three weeks ago) and she wanted to do a pickling class at the The Brooklyn Kitchen. (or should I rather say “up” because I live south or west or some cardinal direction beneath and below Brooklyn) Except… this was their Manhattan “campus”. So I’d still be south, yeah. We’ll go with that.
Aside – This is my quick photograph of the board because good looking well dressed people make me sweat.
In short, the class sucked. We were waiting around forever, and then our teacher was canceled and we got stuck with some rando chef in the back who just happened to look professional enough, you feel me? On top of that we pickled carrots. CARROTS. Who the fuck signs up for a pickle class and is like “carrots? yeah exactly what I signed up for! Not cucumbers at all!”
Maybe I’m just salty because I can’t reach the perfect carrot cutting nirvana that the two girls in front of me were able to reach.
See that dip bowl? that was me. See those chips missing? That was me. See that beer? Me too.
You can see how this class went for me.
Armed with our new knowledge my sister and I were like “hey lets make pickles! …. at midnight!”
Note: do not do this. You do not want to do this. Do not start pickling at midnight unless you are prepared to donate almost four hours of your life to pickling.
However, if you ain’t got jack to do the next day, because you’re 22 and got no job, and still waiting on your expensive piece of paper in the mail, fuck it. Join me in midnight pickling.
We used basically three different recipes so we can end up with pickled cherry tomatoes and pickled cucumbers.
For the cucumbers we sort of followed these instructions from Serious Eat’s Garlic Dill Pickles and adapted the adapted David Lebovitz’s take on Arthur Schwartz’s Jewish Home Cooking pickles
The cherry tomatoes were more or less followed by Healthy Green Kitchen
Make sure your grandparents are a sleep on the first floor bedroom before you start. This is important. You cannot create pickles at night without possibly waking up your geriatric grandparents.
My sister and I were more than ready to follow the Serious Eats recipe until we realized a fatal flaw in our plans: we had no dill.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, let me plead to you the case. The monster pot was already starting to boil, my sister’s expensive local farm grown cucumbers were already sliced while delicately sitting in an ice bowl and my fingers smelled of garlic and peppercorn and we had no dill.
What to do at this point? Do we give up? Nay, we push forth! An create the best fucking pickles ever! (I think. I literally just made them yesterday and sealed them. I can’t taste them yet. Bare with me people.)
Damn, this must be why I don’t have a job.
Do you know what the hell is the hardest thing on this good green earth? Dividing up recipes. Between my sister and I, she has a business minor and I have a business degree, so you’d think, yeah these cool chicks totally can do some simple math.
Yeahhhh-no. Never. Even with a calculator, even with all of my fingers and toes and some pen and paper, my sister and I were too dumb-stupid to figure out how to properly divide up this massive batch of pickles. Seriously, Serious Eats you expect me to have 3 pounds of cucumbers? Where? In my pants?
That might not be a bad idea
No, friends, we had 9. No, not 9 pounds, but 9 small little local farmers cucumbers that didn’t even weight two pounds together. We were properly under prepared to partake in a pickling party.
We ended up using Lebovitz’s links taking us to this old New York Times article that was apparently printed in 2005 and looks like it came out of the caveman era of internet.
But damn, this pickling spice recipe doe. It at least sounds tasty. I wouldn’t know since I haven’t eaten the pickles yet.
And oh this might be totally like not important at all or anything, but we improvised the whole spice recipe.
Yeah no big deal, right?
Just two chicks blind diving into a pool of vinegar and salt without knowing our brine from spice.
I can’t even honestly share the recipe on account that I haven’t even tried our Frankenstein pickle creation.
But hey! At least they photograph really stinkin’ well!