I’m a pickle addict and I’m not ashamed
Hi, I’m Delilah and I have quite a few culinary addictions. After two days without Parmesan cheese, I start to shake, and when the hot sauce runs out, I’m willing to steal my mom’s. Thanks for listening to me in this group therapy session, and I’d also love to hear your stories. No one? Then I’ll carry on, because I have another one:
Pickles. I’m definitely not pregnant, but if I don’t eat enough pickles in a week, some chemical substances are released in my body that make me want to scream. They have to go on virtually every sandwich I make, except those with hagelslag, of course. But I never eat that anyway, so we’re back to pickles. And when I came across this jar recently, I actually got emotional…
Nostalgia at its finest
I don’t get like that over just any random jar of pickles, mind you. But this particular kind—American kosher dill pickles—took me straight back to my teenage years (a loooong time ago).
Food homesickness
I went to an international school abroad where many of my friends were American. I believe they had little faith in the selection at the local shops, or simply suffered from severe food homesickness, because they all had huge pantries at home filled with dozens of boxes of instant Mac ’n’ Cheese, pancake and brownie mix, bags of marshmallows stacked to the ceiling and: jars of kosher dill pickles.
Pickle, but different
What was so special about them? Nothing overly complicated, but to me they were a surprising flavor experience. These pickles were large but crunchy, had a subtle garlic flavor, and were saltier than the sour pickles I was used to in the Netherlands. (Not to mention sweet-and-sour pickles—I’m opposed to those). And they were ‘exotic’, of course, because they were American and different, and couldn’t be found anywhere except through the special channels the American community there used to get groceries from The Motherland.
A nagging sense of absence
And so, after returning to the Netherlands, the years went by without me ever coming across another kosher pickle. Every now and then I would nostalgically reminisce about them to my husband, but I could never quite explain why I missed them so much. After a long search, I discovered the fermented pickles from Thull’s Deli in Amsterdam. They’re delicious, but from a budget perspective they’re more of a delicacy than something to devour at the almost obscene pace at which I work my way through the weekly jars.
Patience pays off
Until… last week! Bam, coincidence, score, success, hooray! Why I hadn’t thought of it sooner is actually a mystery to me. Of course Tjin’s has them. Because Tjin’s has everything. I came in for chipotle powder, casually tossed some Kewpie mayo into my basket as well (okay, and ten other things), and then I spotted them. The jar was about the size of my head, the pickles inside were also a satisfyingly American size, and once I got home I could NOT stay away from them. On the second day, I had to ask my FavorFlav colleagues for an intervention because I had eaten eight in a row. The jar is now (figuratively) under lock and key again. But when I think I’ve got myself back under control, I’m allowed to have them again. Kosher pickles, here I come.
PS: No problem if you don’t live in Amsterdam, because you can also shop online at Tjin’s!
Also read:
- Incredibly creative with pickles
- Beyond the sad supermarket bouquet: a pickle bouquet
- These are Amsterdam’s best international supermarkets
