We love to fry and it shows
Recently, on my way back to Los Angeles from a wine-tasting excursion–some highlights include: Kenneth Volk Vineyards, Curtis Winery, and Tastes of the Valleys in Solvang–we stopped for a beer and snack at Hollister Brewing Company. My pal chillindamos was interested in investigating the latest they had to sample, while I was interested in the curious listing near the top of their appetizer menu: the fried pickle. As well, I couldn’t resist a martini; wine lover that I am, sometimes cocktail hour demands nothing other than an actual cocktail. To my surprise they actually carry Hendrick’s, my favorite gin.
Why would you fry a pickle? Why would you fry anything?
Well, because it tastes good, of course. I am no stranger to the joys of frying–calamari, mozzarella cheese, potatoes, green tomatoes, ice cream, I could go on… But this struck me as, well, pointless. Mostly I am up for adventures of the culinary variety–still on the fence about insects–as long as there is some thought that goes into it, and, naturally, a pay off at the end. I would argue–with myself–that the unknown or unintended ending is what makes it an adventure. Yes, self, I would agree; however, this is a fine example of a situation where one plus one equals not two, but, er… one and one. Does this make sense?
Perhaps my face after a taste will explain things a little better (see below). Point is, there was a definitely a pickle under that fried coating, but there wasn’t anything necessarily new. It’s just a pickle with a fatty jacket.
Now, you may find what I’m about to say next to be a surprise, so hold on to your hats (and pickles): I am curious to try frying my own pickles. It will have to wait until much later in the year when all the stars are aligned (read: when I’m at a particular cabin, which holds a particular fryer, and where the home-brew will flow like wine.) All this to say I can possibly do it better. Or at least make an attempt. Hollister tried it. I will too. And if it doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll eat a scorpion.
