I love pickles. I almost always order pickles and/or ferments on restaurant menus, my fridge is regularly stocked with a zoological range of pickle colours and smells, and I find the idea of eating more than 20 different pickles in a single hour thrilling.
But this wasn’t a taste test of pickles: it was a taste test of supermarket aisle cucumber pickles, the Wes Anderson films of the stinky food world. Sure, they’ve got some character, but step into that theatre and everyone knows exactly what they’re about to get, and it isn’t depth.