Double Dipping Helps Resolve Her Indecision

By MELISSA CLARK

THE test of a dip is what happens when the chips and crudités run out.

A mediocre dip will sit there until its creamy peaks congeal.

A truly great dip manages to somehow disappear — via cheese cubes or hunks of bread, even surreptitious fingers, whatever it takes — until the bowl is bare.

I know this because I’ve spent a lot of time hanging around the dip bowl at parties. I like to watch the goings-on — the sneaky double dippers, the enthusiastic overloaded breadstick breakers, the radish-munching dip avoiders.

I can tell from a glance which dips are so drippy they’ll end up splattering someone’s shoe, and which are so dense they’ll wreak havoc with the chips, shattering one after the other.

The perfect dip is light yet clingy, with a zippy flavor that works just as well with tortilla chips as it does with bell pepper strips, and keeps you coming back for more.

I have a brain full of such recipes and was going through them recently when asked to bring dip to a party.

I couldn’t decide between my tried and true green goddess dip and coming up with something new, perhaps a baked cheese concoction that could be served warm and molten.

As much as I love the sprightly freshness of green goddess, the thought of hot melted cheese inevitably won out, especially in winter.

I went through the possible cheeses: Cheddar, brie, goat — and when I got to blue, I thought of that blue cheese dressing that is served with chicken wings and celery sticks. How would a hot version of that taste? Would it work with just the celery, no wings? I’d have to try it and see.

Part of that marvelous chicken wing-blue cheese dip alchemy is the bite of the hot sauce on the wings, so I added it to the mix along with some garlic for tang. I also mixed in some cream cheese and heavy cream to stand in for the usual sour cream, which I feared would curdle in the oven.

When the dip was ready for its party debut, I got cold feet. What if it turned out to be one of those mediocre dips that would congeal while people ate naked celery?

So just in case, I decided to make green goddess dip, too.

As I shopped for ingredients I noticed some nice, feathery dill. The dill made me think of a Greek friend’s phyllo-feta torte. Maybe, instead of my usual green goddess dip — an assertive version of the many recipes out there, made with minced watercress and plenty of anchovies — I should make a Greek goddess dip, using the dill in place of my usual watercress, and feta cheese instead of the anchovies?

I puréed everything in the food processor, adding lots of lemon and mint, and brought both dips to the party.

The Greek goddess dip, with its stunning verdant color and bright herby flavor, completely disappeared while the blue cheese dip heated in the oven.

I worried that no one would want to do anymore dipping after that. But I was wrong. Hot and savory and almost fondue-like, the blue cheese dip was a completely different experience; that disappeared, too.

Of course, it helped that I brought enough veggies, crackers and chips. No fingers were required.
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