Just finished skimming the Houston Chronicle’s article on pickles from the May 26th morning edition.  I’m kind of making a sour pickle face, but there are no pickles around.

From writer Greg Morago’s description, you’d think pickles were to America what rice is to China.  You’d think that we burn pickles in effigy on 4th of July.  You’d think the founding fathers signed the Declaration of Independence with pickle pens.

Morago offers, “As summertime entertaining swings into high gear, the pickle turns that audible crunch into a rumble heard throughout the country.”

I was no journalism major, but I equate this manufactured glee with someone on an elevator going all bonkers on you.

(you enter the elevator)

Bonko Guy: “HI.  I’M GREG.  IT’S HOT OUTSIDE!”

You: “Yep.” (you press ’14′ for the 14th floor)

Bonko Guy:  ”So we got out our wading pool.  It’s me, and Chris, and Abel, and Amy.  So REFRESHING.”

You: “Uh-huh.” (you press ’9′ for the 9th floor)

Bonko Guy: “I LOVE AMERICAN IDOL.”

You: (smashing the ’4′ button over and over)

All I did was glance at the newspaper, and here comes pickle-crazed Looney Land, and it’s right here in the USA.   “WHAT’S THE BIG DILL?” is the teaser at the top of the page.  Really, guy?  And your editor said OK?

Morago goes on to quote pickle packers as saying, “a good pickle has a crunch that’s audible at 10 paces,” which is about as believable as that miserable Kit Kat commercial with all the fake crunching going on.  To get a Kit Kat (or a pickle) to make that sound, you’d have to either put a microphone inside someone’s mouth, or crack the person’s skull while he’s chewing (a compulsion that may overtake you if you actually watch the commercial).

I mean no disrespect to the pickle.  In fact, back in the day in my REAL JOB in sales, I was the account executive for the Schwartz Pickle Company.  At pickle school I learned the cold hard facts about pickles – different cuts, curing, and the source of their crunch.

My buddy and pickle mentor Jeff Stevens set me straight one day, kind of like Morpheus sitting down with Neo to discuss the Matrix.  Except we didn’t have a swanky parlor, lush furniture, or a selection of pill colors.  We sat on a pickle love seat.  Kinda awkward, now that I recall it in technicolor:

Him:  ”Do you want to know why most pickles crunch?”

Me:  ”Yes.”

Him:  ”If you discover this truth, you must tell the world about it, and you can’t ‘un-know’ this.”

Me:  ”Ok.”

Him:  ”If you take this hit of Centrum . . . ”

Me:  ”JUST TELL ME THE GODDAMN SECRET!”

Jeff eventually got around to telling me why pickles – especially commercially produced ones – have a lasting crunch.

“It’s calcium chloride.  They’re adding it into the pickles.”

I kind of shrugged.  It had all the zing of telling me they were adding whitener to my toothpaste.

But then he added, “It’s the same stuff they de-ice the roads with.”

Then I was flushed off the pickle love seat and plugged into a bug-robot controlled universe where my body was like a battery but I was rescued by Armani clad hipsters and given tons of ammo that I used to kill androids that looked like businessmen but they were really tough and hard to beat, although I really didn’t win everything until I died and came back and stopped bullets with my hand without touching them and then I punched out the bad guys once and for all with my fists.  Oh, and I get the hot girl.

The beautiful truth for me (at the time) was that the calcium chloride angle was to be my sales pitch for Schwartz Pickles.  See, Schwartz was the ONLY PICKLE MANUFACTURER that hadn’t succumbed to the shameful addition of calcium chloride into its product.  Even the ones you find in the store with names you’d recognize had added it.

All that to say, any deli worth its salt will pay extra for the white bucket of Schwartz Pickles.  The main frustration I had as a Schwartz salesman was ignorant DSRs (District Sales Reps – the distributor reps who sell to restaurants).  These guys would try to sell on price rather than quality OR, worse yet, sell their own private label (e.g. Sysco Brand) instead of the higher-quality Schwartz product.  Yet, every time I did a pickle cutting (comparison), I would always win.

Schwartz didn’t pay me for this ad; it’s a simple matter of comparing one pickle with another – especially with the aftertaste -which is where you’ll discover the calcium chloride hits you . . . kind of like waiting for the oak or cherry burst about 5 seconds after sipping a good cabernet . . except calcium chloride tastes more like toilet bowl cleanser.

It’s a shame that Schwartz  pickles aren’t available in retail stores, but feel free to ask any deli owner what brand of pickle he prefers.  It may even be a point of contention or passion with him.  But if he doesn’t say “Schwartz” then it’s Calcium Chloride City (unless of course it’s a chef-made or home-made pickle).

So here I’ve ended up adding to the PICKLE GLEE all over this page.  I like pickles, but I’m no expert.  Morago actually disseminates some good info on pickles in the article, plus he interviews local chef and demi-goddess Monica Pope . . . so I should probably curtail the critique.  I just thought the presentation was a little heavy on the goofball, and the importance lent to the mighty pickle a bit overstated.

SO, as the article suggests, go get some fresh cucumbers, garlic, vinegar, and a few mason jars and get to work making pickles.

Pickles are also zombie repellent, so you’ll be all set for the impending invasion.