Pickle People Say Yeah!

Have I ever mentioned that I love pickles?

I’m going to go with, yes.

So when Chris from Apartment Therapy: The Kitchen and Electric Stove asked me if I’d be interested in helping him organize a food blogger Pickle Party, I nearly jumped out of my chair. Oh hell yeah I was interested!

I guess in doing this story, Chris had met Jon, the genius behind Wheelhouse Pickles. He was our pickle pusher on Saturday night. I’ve never met a dealer I liked so much, but there was one unpleasant side-effect to Jon’s pickles.

They made me feel guilty. Guilty? Yes, guilty. Why? Were they Catholic pickles? Jewish grandmother pickles? Close. Jon’s pickles are better than my mom’s.

I always thought hers were best. Her Dilly Beans are legendary, as are her pickled red beet eggs. But Jon’s? Yeah, they’re better. More nuanced, more modern, and highly, highly addictive.

I stood by the pickle platter, picking and noshing for hours, like I was one of the Queen’s guard. The only muscles that moved were in my arm and my jaw. I reached for a Sour Barrel. Munch, munch, munch. Just one more bean. Chomp, chomp, chomp. No one will see me grab those insane pears. Nibble, nibble, nibble. I was a woman possessed.

Apparently Jon is, too (pickle possessed that is). He spent half the evening in the kitchen cooking up delicious pickle-friendly fare, like celeriac soup, garnished with pickled beets. There was a potato and cheese galette which was perfect with those redonkulous pickled pears. A beef stew with some kind of cucumber based pickle in it and a red beet and goat cheese salad. Oh and there were cocktails too. Jesus, I want to live in his world, surrounded constantly by delicious brined things!

But lest my pickle preoccupation give you the impression that it was just me rolling around like a pig in a pickle patch, there were other people there too!

The amazing husband and wife team behind Stinky Brooklyn and Smith & Vine brought pickle-friendly cheeses and meats (hie thee there and grab the tres leches jobbie from Portugal rubbed in paprika, trust me).

I finally got to meet the Grocery Guy and Gal, the wine obsessed half of Cravings, and a very cool contributer to Gothamist Food. There was one normal sized member of the Tiny Banquet Committee, one-not-so-poor-looking-half of The Paupered Chef and the not-so-pickle smitten Smitten Kitchen accompanied by her pickle-smitten husband (say that five times fast). NYC food bloggers mailing list creator and party doyenne Habeas Brulee was there, as were the Curd Nerds and a few Apartment Therapists.

Due to the size of the hosts’ apartment we had to limit the guest list, but hopefully not so the next time, because, oh yes, there will be a next time! So if you’re an NYC-area food blogger, yummy food maker or purveyor or a gourmet with the inside track on a space that could host a lot of funny, friendly foodies, please drop me a line at chickeninacart AT gmail DOT com.

To everyone I finally got to meet on Saturday, nice to meet ya! To Jon, thanks so much for ruining my mother’s pickles forever for me! To Stinky Brooklyn thanks for the protein! And to Chris, a million thank yous for being such a gracious host and having such great ideas!

To everyone else in Manhattan salivating at the thought of these pickles; Meet me in line at the Real Foods market on Houston and Sixth Ave on Saturday morning. It’s the only place to buy these puppies on the island. Apparently they’re available lotsa places in Brooklyn (including Marlow & Son). For once Brooklyn you’ve won one, but only this one time!