6 recipes that use dill pickle slices, with photos, step-by-step instructions and cook times. The quickest, Iowa loose meat sandwich, takes 25 minutes. It is most often cooked with beef mince, onion and plain flour.
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Hot chicken has been a Nashville institution since the 1930s and is eaten at late-night shacks and the city's summer hot-chicken festival: crisp buttermilk-brined fried chicken painted while hot with a paste of cayenne and brown sugar in hot oil, served on a slice of white bread with dill pickle chips to cool things down. Chef's tip: brine the chicken overnight in the fridge; it seasons the meat right through and keeps it juicy under all that heat.
The po'boy was born in 1929 when two former streetcar drivers fed striking workers free sandwiches at their New Orleans restaurant, and today every neighbourhood joint from Mid-City to the Bywater fries them. The bread is a light, flaky-crusted French loaf, and a shrimp po'boy comes 'dressed' with shredded lettuce, tomato, pickles and rémoulade or mayonnaise. Chef's tip: use the lightest, crustiest baguette you can find and warm it; dense bread fights the filling.
The loose meat sandwich, sometimes called a Maid-Rite after the Iowa chain that started it in Muscatine in 1926, is beef mince simmered until finely crumbled and tender, then piled loose on a soft bun with mustard, pickles and onion. It falls apart as you eat it, so it comes with a spoon. Small-town Iowa cafés have served it at lunch counters for generations. Chef's tip: break the meat up constantly with a potato masher as it cooks; you want fine, even crumbs, not lumps.
The breaded pork tenderloin sandwich is the pride of small-town diners in Indiana and Iowa: a pork cutlet pounded so thin and wide that the crisp, golden edges stick out far beyond the bun. It came from the German schnitzel tradition of the farming towns, and people drive miles to compare them. It's dressed simply with mustard, pickles, onion and lettuce. Chef's tip: pound the pork evenly to 5 mm; thin pork cooks through in the time it takes the crumb to turn golden.
Two bars in south Minneapolis both claim to have invented the Juicy Lucy in the 1950s, and the city still argues about it over beers. Instead of cheese on top, the cheese is sealed inside the beef patty, so it melts into a molten pocket that spurts when you bite. It is served simply, with fried onions and pickles. Chef's tip: warn everyone to wait a minute before biting; the cheese inside is scalding hot.
Diners and drive-ins across the American Midwest have smashed burgers on hot griddles for a century, and the style is now everywhere from food trucks to backyard cookouts. A ball of beef is pressed hard onto a very hot pan so it spreads thin and develops a deep brown, lacy crust, then gets a slice of cheese and goes into a soft toasted bun with pickles and a tangy sauce. Two thin patties per burger is the classic. Chef's tip: smash within the first 30 seconds only; pressing later squeezes out the juice.
American
