A difficult time for pickles

The first step is acknowledging the problem.

There’s a crisis happening in New York City today. It is next-to-impossible to find a guaranteed perfect pickle. The situation is dire.

A pickle should be as firm to the tooth as a carrot. It should not just be salty or sour, but fully fermented, powerful. It should knock the wind out of you and leave a strong aftertaste. The briners of Minsk who were first creating this peasant food didn’t know it at the time, but a pickle should have an umami quality that radiates from the mouth down to the toes. It should assault the senses in waves. An initial shock, then a rumble, like lightning then thunder. A pickle should have danger.

Years ago there were good, small, full sour pickles everywhere. Now, most pickles are soft and weak, affirming no snap, only limply offering a squishy over-reliance on unnecessary herbs and added flavors. Occasionally you see massive, flavorless cucumber logs in a barrel at a deli with nothing to offer. May as well just be eating vegetables. Anything in a glass jar at a grocery store sucks. The Vlasic stork should be euthanized.

The days of heading to the barrels of the Lower East Side (as seen in Crossing Delancey) are over. Guss’s Pickles has been dead for years, and a recent attempt to revive the brand in the basement of City Point in Brooklyn was a disgrace to the name. They closed and it was right that they closed. The shysters that sullied the name should be put in irons.

“The Pickle Guys” downtown come close, but it’s not quite there. The offerings from the East at the Tashkent mini grocery chain are okay. The online store “Olive My Pickle” is decent (but extremely pricy) but frankly their Giardiniera is their strongest offering, not the pickles. There’s a new Brooklyn-based company (branded trucks spotted on Rt. 9 in Central New Jersey!) called Flaum that I suspect may carve out a niche for themselves in the market. Flaum (in plastic containers) is basically good. It’s very close to good. And its proximity to true pickle excellence is such a differentiator that I don’t doubt they may achieve something of a cult of personality — like when Chobani yogurt suddenly came to town. But if you dare to have high demands for a pickle in 2026, you will be disappointed.

There is only one truly reliable pickle vendor anywhere. And it comes from a tiny garage in Hicksville, Long Island.

Pickle Me Pete is a small business that makes olives, sauerkraut, pickled garlic, and specialty flavored pickles (like a preposterously mega-hot one shot full of capsaicin for frat guys on a dare), and brings them all to street fairs throughout Manhattan, Queens, and Brooklyn during the warmer months — plus a stand in the Bryant Park winter market during the Christmas season. Tourists waste their money on fried pickles and take selfies for Instagram. I’m glad P.M.P. gets to line their pockets from the clueless influencers, but what’s funny, of course, is that star of the show is hiding in plain sight.

Pickle Me Pete’s full sour small pickles are the best available anywhere. They are almost as good as what a true Guss’s Pickle was like. It’s 98.9% of the way there. It is the only real option today. What’s more, the people who work there are wonderful.

I say “there” because, when it isn’t street fair season, you can travel there and buy direct. I have done so often.

Pickle Me Pete is on a half-residential, half-industrial side street in central Long Island. I believe it is next to a hubcap place. It’s always freezing in there. And it is the only place I know of where you can exit with full assurance you have a true and honest and righteous pickle. They sell by the gallon. The prices are fair. (They also ship via FedEx, but those prices are insane. I’m not there yet.)

Pickle Me Pete is officially sanctioned by Hoffstack and a the Great Last Stand of quality pickles. Follow them on social media and track them down as the weather gets better.

Let me know if you have a line on a decent pickle connection. I’m always looking for backup.