The Spicy Pickle is a sandwich lover's dream

Boulder Daily Camera
By Catherine Christiansen, Camera Restaurant Critic
October 15, 2004

here are a few pinnacles of achievement I always aspired to as a kid: wiggling my nose like Samantha Stephens on "Bewitched," jumping into a car with the doors shut like Bo and Luke Duke and making a sandwich like Dagwood Bumstead. I never mastered the nose thing and the "Dukes of Hazzard" trick only resulted in pain and suffering, but I've now found a place where the Dagwood sandwich can be realized.

Better than throwing the contents of the fridge between two slices of bread, the Spicy Pickle offers a chance to create the sandwich of one's dreams with just about anything you could want right at hand. After choosing fresh-baked bread from Il Fornaio and some Boar's Head meat, a magnificent selection of toppings beckons.
Advertisement Lettuce, tomatoes, sun-dried tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers, roasted peppers, banana peppers, pepperoncini, jalapenos, portabellos, red onions, kalamata olives, coleslaw, corn relish, alfalfa sprouts, artichoke hearts, spicy pickles, roasted eggplant and spinach.

Throw on some flavored mayo, mustard, vinaigrette or dressing and a few slices of cheese and the self-tailored sandwich is yours, whether it's a panini on focaccia or a big fat sub on chewy filone or airy ciabatta.

Also on the menu are housemade soups and big bowls of salad ranging from a Caesar to an excellent-sounding Spicy Pickle tuna.

The walls are olive (or is it pickle?) green and brick red, while oak butcher block tables and padded dinette chairs give the place a slick Starbuckized feel, a long way from the original Spicy Pickle at 988 Lincoln St. in Denver. The original Pickle has a scrappy chalkboard, a tiny kitchen and tables where tattooed Goths rub elbows with accountants from ING. While the streamlined franchise look eliminates the funkiness, the integrity of the food is still there.

Started by Kevin Morrison and Tony Walker (then a chef at Barolo Grill) in 1999, the local franchise operation now has seven locations from south Denver to Fort Collins. The GM in Boulder is Alli McClintock.

I was with my 4-year-old niece, known as "the Mouse," when I happened upon the Spicy Pickle. The Mouse lives in Breckenridge and she's one of those fearless mountain kids who straps on a helmet and some skis and she's gone, flying down the hill.

But the hot, peppery Spicy Pickle spear that comes alongside every sandwich stopped the Mouse in her tracks. One bite and she began squeaking. A few tears and a bite of sandwich later she was ready for another try. I love that kid.

She had a kid's sandwich ($3.95), same as an adult's but with a little less meat and fixins on the outstanding chewy filone. The rest of us opted for the house paninis. The zesty, creamy Gobbler ($6.45) reigns supreme with "salsalito" turkey (turkey roasted in salsa spices), artichoke hearts, feta and sundried tomato mayo.

The earthy Adobe ($6.45) has smoky mesquite turkey, fresh mozzarella, green peppers, corn relish and chipotle mayo, and the Bronx ($6.25) has corned beef, Swiss, coleslaw and Thousand Island.

This last one lacked the pungency that comes from sauerkraut, making me wonder what the heck a place dedicated to the art of pickling is doing without pickled cabbage?

We split a passable chocolate chip cookie, the only dessert offering, and the Mouse ushered us into the minivan.

It was on my next visit that a friend and I tried to achieve Dagwood status. Assisted by a most excellent counter guy named Mike, we tried to cover as much territory as possible.

Lured by the plethora of toppings, my friend started with rosemary ham on focaccia and added horseradish mayo (why cut horseradish with anything but more horseradish?), sprouts, spinach, peppers and anything else he could have the faster-than-the-speed-of-light sandwich makers squeeze between two hearty slices.

I went the veggie route, starting with smoked gruyere and goat cheese along with avocado (75 cents extra), kalamatas, artichokes, eggplant, portabellos, tomatoes and everything else green on the topping list. Heated up on focaccia ($5.95), the sandwich was a gardener's gem, crunchy, gooey, spicy, salty, sweet and sour.

We fought over a bag of dill pickle flavored chips (80 cents) and debated the merits of the cha cha versus the merengue while mayo and shredded lettuce dripped from our chins. Meanwhile other lunchtime diners waited for their to-go orders or crowded into the table area.

It's not a stand-alone place, but the franchise started just 30 miles away and the idea is a good one. Why not offer every fresh, tasty quality ingredient you can think of between slices of fresh Italian bread? Dagwood would be proud.