The bread and butter pickle recipe I keep going back to came out of a four-hour class in Streator, Illinois, taught by a woman named Marlene in her own kitchen. I signed up on a whim during a Midwest road trip. I did not expect to be handed a paring knife and put to work inside twenty minutes.
The Market Tour Before the Kitchen
The class started at the little farmers’ market off Bloomington Street, which was mostly two long tables and a pickup truck full of cucumbers. Marlene wore a denim shirt tucked into jeans, half-moon glasses on a chain, and she moved through the stalls like she owned them, which functionally she did. She picked up every Kirby cucumber before buying it. If it bent, she put it back.
She told me the shortest ones were the ones we wanted. Small, firm, no soft ends. I had been reaching for the pretty long ones. Wrong move.
Inside Marlene’s Kitchen
Her kitchen was a real working kitchen. Yellow laminate counters, a chipped enamel stockpot on the back burner, a radio on the windowsill playing a Cardinals game on low. She had a wooden spoon that looked older than me. Every time I picked up the wrong knife she quietly slid the right one across the counter without saying anything.
She corrected me on two things early. I was slicing the cucumbers too thick, and I was trying to be gentle with the salt. She wanted a heavy hand, and even coins, one-quarter inch. She said the salt and the ice were the whole trick. Skip that step and you get sad, floppy pickles.
While the cucumbers sat under ice for three hours, we ate saltines with sharp cheddar and drank iced tea that was mostly ice. The game kept going. Marlene told me about the Fannings, Omar and Cora, who trademarked this style of pickle in 1923 not far from where we were standing. During lean years they bartered jars of them with the local grocer for bread and butter. That is where the name comes from. Not an ingredient. A trade.
A Little History She Set Me Straight On
I had assumed, wrongly, that bread and butter pickles were just a sweeter version of a regular sweet pickle. Marlene set me straight while she measured out mustard seed by eye. The mustard seed, the celery seed, the turmeric, that is the profile. Without those three, you have a candy pickle. Not what we were making.
She also mentioned that the Fannings did not invent the recipe. They popularized and trademarked a specific Midwestern-style version that had been floating around home kitchens for decades. In 1927 the trademark went to what became Best Foods, and by the early thirties the jars were on holiday tables across the country. Depression food. Frugal, clever, and it happened to taste incredible on a ham sandwich.
Bringing the Bread and Butter Pickle Recipe Back to My LA Kitchen
Back home, I made a batch on a Sunday afternoon in July with the kitchen window open and the neighbour’s jacaranda dropping petals onto the sill. I put on a Gillian Welch record because it felt right for the job. Slow, patient, a little dusty. I opened a bag of pretzels and had them standing at the counter while the cucumbers cured under ice.
I sourced the Kirbys from the Wednesday farmers’ market at Santa Monica, from a grower who keeps them in a shallow tub of ice water at the back of the stand. If you cannot find Kirbys, do not substitute slicing cucumbers. I tried it once, out of impatience. Mush. Genuinely inedible mush.
What I Used
- 4 lb Kirby pickling cucumbers, sliced into even quarter-inch rounds
- 2 large yellow onions, thinly sliced to match the cucumbers
- One-third cup kosher or pickling salt, not iodized
- 3 cups ice cubes, straight from the freezer
- 3 cups distilled white vinegar at 5 percent acidity
- 2 and one-quarter cups granulated sugar
- 1 and a half tablespoons whole yellow mustard seed
- 1 tablespoon whole celery seed
- 1 teaspoon ground turmeric for that signature gold
- 8 whole cloves
- 4 sterilized pint canning jars with lids
- My one good chef’s knife, the one with the slightly loose rivet I keep meaning to fix
The Part That Matters Most
The brine. Marlene said it three times in her kitchen and I will say it once here. Do not let the brine come to a rolling boil once the cucumbers are in. You are watching for a color change, not a bubble show. The slices go from a bright, cheerful green to a dull olive green, and that is your cue to pull the pot off the heat. Maybe five minutes. Seven if your stove runs low.
I use a stainless steel pot. Never aluminum. The vinegar reacts with reactive metal and you get a metallic aftertaste that ruins the whole batch. Marlene’s line was that if the pot could stain, so could the pickle.
Pack the hot cucumbers and onions into the jars first, distribute the whole spices as evenly as you can, and then ladle the golden brine over the top. Leave half an inch of headspace. Wipe the rims. Seal. Let them cool on the counter for about two hours before they go anywhere near the fridge.
The Wait, and What to Do With Them
Twenty-four hours minimum before you open a jar. I know. I hate it too. The first batch I made in LA, I cracked a jar at hour fourteen and it was fine, but at hour twenty-eight it was a different pickle entirely. The mustard seed had bloomed out. The turmeric had gone deep. The onion had softened without going limp.
I eat them on cheeseburgers, which is the obvious move. Also on a plain deli ham sandwich with too much mayonnaise. On a cheese board next to a wedge of sharp cheddar, which is where they really surprise people. And, once, straight from the jar over the sink at midnight. No shame.
Fridge method holds one to three months. For shelf-stable jars, process the sealed ones in a boiling water bath for ten minutes and let them cool undisturbed for twelve hours. I usually do half and half. One batch in the fridge for right now, another on the shelf for winter, when a jar of anything gold and tangy feels like a small correction against January.
Marlene sent me home with a jar of her own that day, wrapped in a paper towel and tucked in the passenger seat. I finished it before I got back to California. Worth every mile.
Bread And Butter Pickle Recipe
Ingredients
Equipment
Method
- Slice the Kirby cucumbers into even 1/4 inch rounds. Thinly slice the yellow onions to about the same thickness so everything cures at the same rate.
- Layer the cucumbers and onions in a large glass or ceramic bowl, scattering the kosher salt across each layer. Bury the ice cubes on top so they sit in direct contact with the vegetables.
- Let the mixture sit at room temperature for 3 hours. The salt and ice will pull water out of the cucumbers, which is what keeps them crisp after pickling.
- Tip the bowl into a colander and drain thoroughly. Rinse the cucumbers and onions under cold running water for 30 seconds to wash off excess salt, then let them drain again while you build the brine.
- In a large non-reactive pot, combine the distilled white vinegar, granulated sugar, yellow mustard seed, celery seed, ground turmeric, and whole cloves. Set over medium heat and stir with a wooden spoon until the sugar dissolves completely, about 4 minutes.
- Bring the brine just to a gentle simmer, not a rolling boil. Add the drained cucumbers and onions to the pot and stir to coat every slice in the golden liquid.
- Heat the mixture only until the cucumber slices turn from bright green to a dull olive green, about 5 to 7 minutes. Do not let the brine boil hard or the pickles will go soft.
- Immediately pack the hot cucumbers and onions into 4 sterilized pint jars, distributing the whole spices evenly between them. Ladle the hot brine over the top, leaving 1/2 inch of headspace and covering the vegetables completely.
- Wipe the rims clean, seal with lids, and let the jars cool to room temperature on the counter, about 2 hours.
- Refrigerate for at least 24 hours before serving so the flavors marry. For shelf-stable jars, process the sealed jars in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes, then cool undisturbed for 12 hours before storing.