Great Piccalilli Hunt continues for my besotted Yorkshireman – Susan Morrison

Last week we had lunch at the Pitlochry Dam visitors centre. My husband opted for a ham and piccalilli sandwich. He said he hadn’t tasted piccalilli for years. Bet you haven’t either. Your saliva glands probably just hit Def Con 2 at the memory of 20th century piccalilli.
Modern piccalilli is a different pickle to its ancestors in the UK (Picture: PA)Modern piccalilli is a different pickle to its ancestors in the UK (Picture: PA)
Modern piccalilli is a different pickle to its ancestors in the UK (Picture: PA)

It was a vicious shade of yellow, the colour of an old dog's teeth. It was the kryptonite of preservatives. The only thing that contained it was Plain bread. Everything else it dissolved, like acid going through toilet paper. It stained. Slapping your cheese and piccalilli on a pan loaf left you yellow-fingered for life.

It had a bite like an old scrapyard hound to match. After two mouthfuls, the insides of your cheeks began to suck protectively inwards. By bite three, your saliva glands went into ‘Fire In The Hold’ mode and flooded the area. Polite conversation became hazardous.

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However, this piccalilli was a revelation. Bright colour, fresh crunch, mild spiciness. My husband was impressed. He made me try it, shoving a piece of pickle-slathered bread in my gob. Romantic. Take that, sloppy rom coms. When a Yorkshireman loves you, he shares his piccalilli.

Sweet. The moment, and the pickle. But now he has become a piccalilli obsessive. Who makes this piccalilli? Can we buy it? He became an online pickle-tracking sleuth. Then, at the weekend, we toured delicatessens quizzing shop assistants.

Now, I love a deli as much as the next woman, particularly if that woman is Mary Contini, but even I had had enough of the Great Piccalilli Hunt. There was only one place that could help. With pickle-struck husband in tow, I crashed into Mr Mellis’s Cheese Shop desperately shouting “Do you have piccalilli?”

The young men serving handled the sight of a screaming old bat very well. Of course, they said. We have a tasting jar available. That pulled me up short. Why do they need samples? How many crazed piccalilli hunters are there?

It was deemed acceptable. It is now being stored at room temperature, as advised. However, it’s not quite the correct piccalilli. I know the hunt continues.

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