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Dill Pickle Dip — The Companion Sauce That Belongs

First week of June. Summer. The furnace door opens and Memphis walks in and sits down and makes itself comfortable the way it does every year — without asking permission and without regard for the opinions of the people who have to live in it. Ninety-one degrees on Monday. Ninety-three on Wednesday. The humidity is so high that the air itself seems to have texture, like walking through warm gauze.

Schools are out. The neighborhood changes again — kids everywhere, bikes on sidewalks, the sound of ice cream trucks competing with the sound of mothers calling children who are pretending not to hear. My route is slower in summer, not because I walk slower (though I do) but because people are outside, and people who are outside want to talk to their mailman, and I am a mailman who talks back, because the route is not just a delivery — it's a relationship, and relationships require conversation.

This week Aaliyah finished pre-K. She's five now, about to start kindergarten in the fall, and she celebrated the end of school by announcing to Walter Jr. that she wants to be "a doctor who cooks," which Walter Jr. interpreted as a chef and which I interpreted as a Johnson woman combining Rosetta's medical calling with my culinary one, and I choose to believe my interpretation because it flatters me.

I made fried green tomatoes this week — the first of the summer, from tomatoes that my neighbor Mr. Patterson grew in his yard and brought over in a paper bag with the casual generosity that is Orange Mound's native language. Green tomatoes, sliced half-inch thick, dredged in cornmeal and flour seasoned with salt, pepper, and a touch of cayenne, then fried in a cast iron skillet in just enough oil to come halfway up the slice. Two minutes a side. The outside should be golden and crisp, the inside tart and slightly firm, and the first bite should make you close your eyes because the combination of the crunchy cornmeal and the sour tomato and the heat of the cayenne is a three-part harmony that no choir could sing better.

Served them with a remoulade sauce — mayo, Creole mustard, capers, a splash of hot sauce — because fried green tomatoes deserve a companion, and remoulade is the kind of companion that enhances without overshadowing, the way a good spouse does, the way Rosetta does, every day, without trying, which is the secret: the not-trying, the natural fit, the sauce that belongs on the tomato as if they were made for each other.

The remoulade is what stays with me after a plate of fried green tomatoes — not because it outshines the tomato, but because it completes it. That briny, tangy quality, the way a good dip cuts through the richness of a crust and makes the whole thing sing louder, is something I think about every summer. This dill pickle dip carries that same spirit: creamy and sharp, a little bold, the kind of thing you make in ten minutes and put on the table and watch disappear, which is exactly what happened the afternoon I set it out next to a basket of fried slices and Aaliyah — my doctor-who-cooks — asked for a third scoop.

Dill Pickle Dip

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 8 oz cream cheese, softened to room temperature
  • 1/2 cup sour cream
  • 1/4 cup mayonnaise
  • 3/4 cup dill pickles, finely chopped (about 4 sandwich slices)
  • 3 tablespoons dill pickle brine (juice from the jar)
  • 2 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried dill)
  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • Salt to taste

Instructions

  1. Soften the base. Make sure your cream cheese is fully softened before starting — cold cream cheese will leave lumps in the dip. Set it out at room temperature for at least 30 minutes ahead of time.
  2. Combine the creamy ingredients. In a medium bowl, beat together the softened cream cheese, sour cream, and mayonnaise with a hand mixer or sturdy spoon until smooth and well combined, about 1–2 minutes.
  3. Chop and drain the pickles. Finely chop the dill pickles, then press them briefly between paper towels to remove excess moisture. This keeps the dip from going watery as it sits.
  4. Mix in the flavor. Fold in the chopped pickles, pickle brine, fresh dill, garlic powder, onion powder, and black pepper. Stir until evenly distributed throughout the dip.
  5. Taste and adjust. Give it a taste and add salt if needed — the pickles and brine bring salt of their own, so go carefully. Add more brine for extra tang, or more dill for a brighter herbal note.
  6. Chill before serving. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before serving. The flavors come together and deepen as the dip rests. Overnight is even better.
  7. Serve. Plate alongside fried green tomatoes, crackers, sliced vegetables, or kettle chips. Garnish with a sprinkle of fresh dill and a few pickle rounds if you want it to look as good as it tastes.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 165 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 15g | Carbs: 4g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 390mg

Earl Johnson
About the cook who shared this
Earl Johnson
Week 62 of Earl’s 30-year story · Memphis, Tennessee
Earl "Big E" Johnson is a sixty-seven-year-old retired postal carrier, a forty-two-year husband, and a Memphis BBQ legend who learned to smoke pork shoulder at his Uncle Clyde's stand when he was eleven years old. He lost his daughter Denise to sickle cell disease at twenty-three, and he honors her every year by smoking her favorite meal on her birthday and setting a plate at the table. His dry rub uses sixteen spices he keeps in a mayonnaise jar. He will not share the recipe. Not even with Rosetta.

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