my mom loves coffee; she drinks it all the time, even late at night before bed. i have this really distinct memory of being four years old, and us drinking from matching coffee cups. in hers — folgers. in mine — pickle juice. i guess the point of that, is there’s a special place in my heart for pickles.
a couple weeks ago, steven and i took a day trip to the new river gorge in west virginia to go zip lining. it was a lot of fun and it’s so beautiful there, but in true chef fashion i think he was most concerned with what we’d be having for lunch. after much googling and pressure from a control freak friend (hi, bill!) we settled on gumbos cajun restaurant. i had a fried crawfish po’ boy with the most delicious pickled okra on the side! i mean, this okra seriously tasted like a dill pickle. i ate mine and his. i guess it may be a no brainer to some people, but it was an epiphany to me: you can pickle anything.
i didn’t believe him at first, but trust me… these pickled brussels are worth the wait!