How Pickling Helped Early American Colonists Survive

When early American colonists left Europe for the New World, they brought with them not just hope for a better life but the weighty knowledge that survival would require every ounce of ingenuity. They faced an unfamiliar land, unpredictable climate and the risk of failed crops, long winters and food shortages. To survive, colonial families relied heavily on the age-old process of pickling to keep food on the table year-round.

Pickling is one of the oldest known methods of food preservation. Though its exact origins are unclear, archaeologists believe ancient Mesopotamians were pickling food as far back as 2400 B.C. Across cultures and centuries, pickling emerged as a reliable and safe way to preserve food for long stretches of time, and the colonists knew it well. They pickled just about anything they could get their hands on.

“What was [pickled] was based on the natural and cultivated resources around them,” says Lavada Nahon, a culinary historian. “What was available in New York was not the same as what was available in Virginia or Maine, but things like oysters, nuts, meats, fish, eggs and various vegetables were all being pickled.”

Families packed cabbage, cauliflower, onions, beets and green beans into stoneware crocks and ceramic pots, covering them with vinegar, salt and spices to keep them from spoiling. Fruits like cherries, peaches and pears were pickled in sweetened, spiced vinegar. They even pickled watermelon rinds, which would have otherwise been discarded. To seal in freshness, they covered the containers with leather, clarified butter or stretched pig bladders, which acted like an early form of plastic wrap.

A 1734 edition of The Young Lady’s Companion in Cookery and Pastry, Preserving, Pickling, Candying, Etc. lists dozens of pickling recipes, including instructions for pickling barberries, purslane (an annual plant with fleshy stems and leaves), mushrooms and walnuts. “To pickle purslane stalks,” one recipe reads, “take the largest and youngest stalks, and make a brine with water and salt that will bear an egg, put them in a pot together and keep them, and as you use them take out a parcel—and boil them a little in such a pickle as you put to cucumbers.”

Protein needed preserving too. Colonists pickled pork and beef and fish like salmon, cod and sturgeon in wooden barrels. “Things like meats generally were preserved with a salt brine,” says Tom Kelleher, a historian at Old Sturbridge Village, “and sometimes later smoked to encapsulate the salted meat with a thick protective coating of creosote that inhibited insects or microorganisms from spoiling the meat.”

For colonial families, pickling was a way to avoid total reliance on root cellars, which didn’t always keep perishables from spoiling. Although the term “microbiome” would’ve been meaningless to an early American colonist, they understood through practice that pickling could keep food from going bad. The salt or vinegar in a brine worked to kill or inhibit the growth of bacteria and mold.

Still, pickled foods weren’t always ready to eat straight from the container. “Most early American pickling involved high concentrations of salt and/or vinegar, and so pickled foods had to be freshened by repeated soaking in fresh water to make them edible,” says Kelleher. “They weren’t like modern Kosher dills.”

There was also the risk of accidental poisoning. As reported by The Virginia Gazette on November 14, 1755, “a Gentleman being invited to Dinner at a Friend’s House” noticed “the beautiful Color of the pickled Cucumbers” and ate a couple. He was “immediately after taken very ill.” A doctor discovered the pickles had been contaminated, “by having had Vitriol put into the Pickle, in Order to give them a fine Green.”

In the early years of colonization, salt had to be imported. Dutch and Anglo-Dutch traders brought it to the colonies as part of transatlantic commerce, and it was closely tied to the Atlantic slave trade. Though salt deposits existed in places like the caves of New York, they remained largely inaccessible until the Erie Canal opened a transport route in 1825.

Vinegar was easier to produce locally. Colonists initially relied on wine and beer but soon prioritized planting apple orchards not only for food but also to make cider and, eventually, vinegar. “It takes time for things to be established,” says Nahon. “In the 1620s when New York was being settled, [for example], much of the food was preserved but primarily imported. By year three or five, they were more self-sufficient.”

Because pickling created shelf-stable food, it enabled more expansive exploration, trade and settlement. A family that could safely store months of food could move deeper into unsettled territory or ride out bad weather or with less fear of famine.

Pickling also supported the colonial economy. In port towns like Boston, New York and Philadelphia, pickled goods were traded and sold. One 18th-century newspaper ad boasted “fifty or sixty barrels of pickled herring” for sale. Another announced “pickled walnuts” arriving via ship from London, showcasing the colonial demand for preserved goods.

While refrigeration and modern canning eventually lessened the need for pickling as a survival tool, the practice never faded. Today, pickling has enjoyed a resurgence as part of the farm-to-table and homesteading movements, not to mention culinary experimentation.

“I think home gardeners and people who appreciate natural eating and living have continued this practice for generations,” says Sandi Duncan, editor of Farmers' Almanac. “Recently, with the uptick of home gardens, I believe there’s been some new interest in ways to preserve fresh picked foods or foods from community supported agriculture [initiatives] and farmers markets because there is so much bad news about food contamination and unhealthy ingredients.”