I Tried Pamela Anderson’s $38 Pickles

I’ve long counted myself among the pro-pickle faithful. Spicy spears, bread-and-butter rounds, classic dills, petite gherkins — each has its place in my kitchen. As a food writer in Texas, pickles are almost as synonymous with the Lone Star State as barbecue and scratch-made tacos. (Who can forget Selena Gomez’s go-to frozen pickle treat?)

So when Pamela Anderson announced a pickle collaboration with Los Angeles–based lifestyle brand Flamingo Estate (the same team behind Food & Wine’s favorite olive oil splurge), I had to see how Pamela’s Pickles, priced at $38 a jar and produced in small batches, compared to my trusty jars lining the shelves at H-E-B.

Unboxing Pamela’s Pickles

My long-awaited jar finally arrived after a heat-related shipping delay. Far from being a nuisance, the pause felt like a promise: proof of freshness, and a reminder that in Texas, heat delays are as common as margaritas with a Tajín rim. 

The packaging served as the amuse-bouche: sleek green box stamped with Flamingo Estate’s logo and tied with a dark bow gave way to what might be the most glamorous jar of pickles I’ve seen. Even before opening it, the jar looked designed for display: Its blush-pink label, trimmed with florals, carried “PAMELA ANDERSON” in bold lettering, alongside a sketch of the star herself.

The tasting notes? Rose, dill, mustard, garlic, layered with pink peppercorn, Guajillo chile, and smoky sea salt. Opening the jar felt a little wrong — almost like disturbing a piece of art — but curiosity won out. I had to give the lid a few guilty whacks before the seal gave way.

Do Pamela’s Pickles deliver on flavor?

These are adult pickles.

With no added sugars, the first bite released a wash of subtle smokiness — as if the spear had just been lifted from the grill at a backyard barbecue. A second bite, this time with a few pink peppercorns stacked on top, delivered a delicately zesty punch. Nothing overwhelmed; each ingredient worked in concert, while every spear retained that essential, satisfying crunch that defines a great pickle.

The rose petals, though technically present, played more of a whisper than a note. A faint floral sweetness tucked behind the bolder, smokier accents of mustard seed, guajillo chile, and pink peppercorn. Those flavors took center stage, creating a profile that felt grown-up and complex.

Pamela’s Pickles are designed to stand apart, not to compete with standard supermarket jars. The mission behind them reinforces that. All proceeds go directly to the California Wildlife Center, a nonprofit dedicated to rescuing and rehabilitating native wildlife. True to Anderson’s decades of advocacy, the pickles are also vegan. 

“When Harvey and I first met Pamela, we bonded over our love of gardens and growing our own food. Then we discovered her incredible skill as a chef — her cookbook, her business acumen, and her work as an activist and fierce green warrior,” says Flamingo Estate founder Richard Christiansen. “It was Pamela’s idea to make the pickles and give all the money back to charity. She brought her own secret recipe, passed down to her by her great aunt Vie, and we added some of Flamingo Estate’s signature flavors.”

Are Pamela’s Pickles worth $38?

That $38 price tag is tricky. Would I swap these in for my everyday snack? Probably not — H-E-B’s $4 jars still win if I’m craving a straightforward pickle. But Pamela’s Pickles were more of an experience. From the striking packaging to the Instagram-worthy jar, it felt like an occasion — the kind of thing you want to savor slowly rather than plow through.

In an era of instant gratification, waiting for this jar, then finally cracking it open, was a reminder that some pleasures are worth the pause. Or, as Anderson herself wrote on Instagram: “I think of life as a garden. You get to replant, start again, and make it yours.”

With Pamela’s Pickles, she’s planted something memorable.