Deep Fried Pickles?

Okay, I'll confess: technically, 'officially', this isn't really an Abandoned Edibles post...I suppose it doesn't qualify. This project stems from a recent trip to visit family in California that I took with my significant other: while tucked away inside a gay dive bar in Arcata, waiting out a sudden thunderstorm, the two of us were treated to rum (with a dash of coke) and deep fried pickles (seriously amazing) by Aunt Lynn. They. Were. DELICIOUS! Ever since then, I have been craving these tasty, fried, vinegar-y vittles. I decided to embark on an experiment to make The Best Deep Fried Pickle Ever while at home the other night, and I documented my adventure. Here we go...


Having lived in Hawai'i for five years--Land of Tempura Batter--I will admit, I am somewhat partial to this particular mode of frying. So, naturally, I decided to dunk my cukes in tempura. First I dredged them in seasoned flour (S&P only), then the tempura, then into the vat of scalding hot canola oil. It should be noted that I tried two sizes/types of pickles: spears, and those tiny little adorable baby dills. I wanted to see if there would be a difference in taste/texture/fry-ability--and indeed there was. I also attempted to pat dry the pickles as best I could before I dredged them...'attempted' being the key word here.


The verdict? Although the wee cukes were surely cute, the spears tasted much better. And the tempura batter worked wonders! Of COURSE we had to have ranch dressing with our fried pickles (ranch dressing = "the best thing Americans have ever contributed to the world", according to my favorite Englishman), which perfectly complimented the fried deliciousness.


Although my tempura-fried pickles were good, they weren't nearly as good as the bar pickles I had eaten a month prior in Northern California. Maybe it was my selection of pickle brand; I just grabbed whatever was in my refrigerator. I'm sure my mother's home-canned pickles would have been WAY better. But you know what? I think I know the most important variable here, one that stands out above the rest. Two words: ranch. dressing. That little dive bar made homemade, buttermilk ranch dressing in their tiny little kitchen behind the bar, and I'm pretty sure it made all the difference. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I could've drank a glass of that instead of my rum. Note to self: LEARN HOW TO MAKE HOMEMADE RANCH SALAD DRESSING!