Is Jimmy John’s Picklewich the Real Dill?
Has pickle culture gone too far?
On October 28, sandwich chain Jimmy John’s released an otherworldly “sandwich” to the general public: the picklewich. Rather than use two pieces of bread, a hollowed out pickle keeps everything in the sandwich together. Can you even call this a “sandwich” if there’s no bread?
JJ’s offers two kinds of picklewiches: the Vito Picklewich (salami, capocollo, provolone, lettuce, tomato, onion, oil and vinegar) and the Turkey Picklewich (turkey, provolone, lettuce, tomato and onion.)
On the day of release, I proudly marched into Jimmy John’s and asked if they had any picklewiches, to which the kind gentleman at the counter said yes. I ordered the Turkey Picklewich, fearing that the Vito may be too much for my palate to handle.
“How many of these have you made today,” I asked the gentleman behind the counter.
“About 20, 25,” he replied. I gasped—Jimmy John’s had been open for less than three hours. My local JJ’s alone was making 6.67 Picklewiches an hour.
After paying $12 for the bizarre meal, I headed home to unravel the mess. When I stripped the picklewich of its papery wears, I was met with a cold lump. The pickle was sizable, framing the sandwich innards. It was missing the provolone cheese and onion, leaving me with turkey, lettuce, tomato, and “bread” constructed out of a hollowed out dill pickle.
My first bite was scrumptious. The crunch of the pickle as it met my teeth was impeccable. I munched slowly, taking in the full flavor combination of meat, veg, and pickle. The portions were correctly doled out, preventing a mess from spewing out of the wrapped pickle.
However, everything was so, so cold.
By the time I had reached my fourth bite, my first half of the sandwich was nearly gone. Here is where things went wrong. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the pickle. The salt and brine began to overpower the fillings. The second half of the meal became a treacherous task as I attempted to crunch down more of the picklewich.
As I made my way through the second half, I squirmed and grimaced at the sheer amount of sodium now running through my veins. This realization brought me out of my pickle-induced haze and I slammed the picklewich back onto the plate. I shook my head before gutting the sandwich, eating its fillings, and depositing the remaining pickle slices into the trash.
I gave up.
The Picklewich was a lesson in strength and perseverance, or perhaps a lack thereof. The night before this fateful meal, I texted what felt like half of my contacts about getting the bizarre pseudo-sandwich. I was adamant that I would review the sandwich.
It was all a performance. I had based my lunch solely on doing something “for the bit.” I talked the biggest game, and I couldn’t even finish the Picklewich that sat before me.
But, was the Picklewich itself ever necessary?
A Long Island deli went viral this summer for their own Picklewich before Jimmy John’s unleashed their own abomination. The local deli boasts more charm than a corporate chain, but this doesn’t mean that pickle-as-bread is needed. There are simply too many pickle products.
The Chamoy Pickle. Pickle Soda. Another Pickle Soda. Dill Pickle Ice Cream. Pickle Beer. Pickle Cotton Candy. Pickle Vodka. Pickle Freeze Pops.
I love a good pickle, but do we need this briny treat in every form known to man? Do we really need to mix soda and pickles? Aren’t picklebacks enough?
We’ll never know if the true tribulation was my own failed attempt at greatness (consuming an entire picklewich), or Jimmy John’s hubris in crafting such a creaturesome sandwich in the first place. Let this be a lesson that you need not complete a task that does not serve you—nor do you need to create a sandwich made of pickles.