Easy Freezer Pickles

Memorial Day weekend. I have a complicated relationship with this holiday. I'm not a veteran, but my father came to this country as a refugee because American soldiers fought and died in a war that ultimately failed to save his homeland, and the complexity of that — gratitude and grief and futility all tangled together — is not something that fits neatly on a bumper sticker. I fly a flag on Memorial Day. I also think about it more than most people do.

Huy never talked about the American soldiers he encountered during the fall of Saigon. I think he was grateful to them and angry at them in roughly equal measure. Grateful because a U.S. Navy vessel pulled our family out of the South China Sea. Angry because — well. Because of everything that came before that. Because of what was lost. Because gratitude and anger can coexist in the same breath, and in refugee families, they often do.

I smoked ribs for the holiday — two racks of St. Louis cut spare ribs, rubbed with a blend of paprika, brown sugar, garlic powder, onion powder, cayenne, and a tablespoon of five-spice powder that I sneak in because it bridges the Texas and Vietnamese flavors in a way that people notice but can't identify. "What is that?" they always ask. I say, "The good stuff." I never give up the five-spice secret at cookouts. It's my competitive advantage.

Lily and James came over. Emma and Daniel came over. Mai came, driven by Linh, who dropped her off and went to a medical conference at the Hilton. A full backyard. I set up two folding tables end to end and covered them with butcher paper and the ribs went in the center with all the sides around them: coleslaw, baked beans, corn on the cob, and a Vietnamese cucumber salad with rice vinegar and sesame that Mai taught me to make when I was twelve.

James and I stood at the smoker and he told me about Nigerian Independence Day — how his family celebrates in Chicago, the goat pepper soup his mother makes, the jollof rice that takes all day. He said he grew up straddling two cultures too — Nigerian and American — and that food was the bridge. I said I knew exactly what he meant. I looked at him standing there, a Nigerian-American man at a Vietnamese-Texan smoker on an American holiday, and I thought: this is what this country is supposed to be. Not perfect. Not easy. But this.

Emma pulled me aside and said, "Dad, James is good for Lily." I said, "I know." She said, "Like, really good." I said, "Emma. I know." She nodded. My daughters think I don't notice things. I notice everything. I just don't always comment on it.

The ribs always get the attention, but the dish people quietly go back for is the cucumber salad—the one Mai taught me when I was twelve, standing at her kitchen counter in Houston while she explained that good food doesn’t need to be complicated, just honest. What she made was essentially a quick pickle: cool cucumbers, sharp rice vinegar, a little sesame, a little sugar, done. I’ve formalized it over the years into what I now call my freezer pickles, because you can make them ahead and they hold beautifully, which matters when you’re also managing a smoker and two folding tables of family. This is the recipe I bring out every Memorial Day—the one that sits next to the ribs and the baked beans and quietly carries thirty years of memory in every jar.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes (plus 24 hours chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 pounds pickling cucumbers, thinly sliced (about 1/8 inch)
1 medium white onion, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup rice vinegar (or white vinegar)
1/2 teaspoon celery seed
1/2 teaspoon mustard seed
1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil (Bobby’s addition — optional but recommended)
1 teaspoon sesame seeds, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Salt the cucumbers. Combine sliced cucumbers and onion in a large bowl. Sprinkle with kosher salt, toss to coat, and let sit for 10 minutes. This draws out excess moisture and keeps the pickles crisp.
Make the brine. In a small saucepan or microwave-safe bowl, combine sugar, rice vinegar, celery seed, and mustard seed. Stir or heat just until sugar fully dissolves—you do not need to bring it to a boil. Let cool to room temperature.
Drain and combine. Drain any liquid that has accumulated with the cucumbers but do not rinse. Pour the cooled brine over the cucumber and onion mixture. Stir in sesame oil if using. Toss well to coat everything evenly.
Pack and chill. Transfer to freezer-safe jars or zip-top bags, pressing out excess air. Refrigerate for at least 24 hours before serving to allow flavors to develop. For longer storage, freeze for up to 6 months; thaw overnight in the refrigerator before serving.
Serve. Serve cold, straight from the jar. Garnish with sesame seeds if desired. These are ideal alongside smoked ribs, grilled meats, or anything that benefits from a cool, bright counterpoint.

Nutrition (per serving)

Easy Freezer Pickles — The Cucumber Salad That Started with Mai