My friend has been on the hunt for Knorrs Leek Soup for several months now. Very few people (not in rehab) would pursue an activity to the gates of hell or insanity, but for the perfect clam dip, my friend would. She called Knorrs’ headquarters IN GERMANY, to find out why they don’t stock the soup mix in the U.S. anymore. There was no small amount of rejoicing when we found it at a local Piggly Wiggly.
This gives rise to the delicate issue of double-dipping. My mama told me horror stories about how when saliva is introduced into the dip, it starts to break down. This could turn a perfectly good thick paste into a slightly thinner paste. *Shudder* Since then I’ve taken great care not to be the cause of a sour cream state of emergency. I can only hope that others sharing the bowl are equally vigilant.
My distaste for separation of dairy products seems rather odd in light of the fact that I have a cat, ergo my kitchen counters are crawling with e coli. Fortunately, I know this, and knowledge is power. I have carefully choreographed food preparation routines to avoid serving litter box juice to the ones I love. It’s the least I can do.
People are not going to fess up to double dipping, so it’s the not knowing that makes a communal bowl of dip a thrill-seeker’s paradise. “Hey guys, let’s go base jumping then share some clam dip.” When I finally get up the courage and scoop, inevitably there’s breakage from somebody else’s chip. A half-soggy chip crumb is now hitching a ride on my chip. Gaaah!
I grew up playing with snakes and eating dirt (long story). I’m a staunch supporter of the five second rule. I’ve swapped sweat at the gym, grown up with the community bathhouse, shared bottles of soda, and have been known to French kiss. I don’t know why throwing dairy products into the mix puts saliva on a par with weasel snot.
Fortunately, God has genetically engineered clam dip to taste good enough that it’s worth the risk. I may not go base jumping anytime soon, but break out the chips and dip, and I can feel the adrenaline pumping.
I was kind of hungry when I started reading this and now I’m fine. Karla, they could use your posts over at Weight Watchers! Thanks.
Then my work here is done.
Ah, there went my appetite, off into oblivion!
And I recommend base jumping. Good for what ails one. Except if the parachute happens to, oh… fail to deploy.
That too would stop any ailment in its tracks.
I’m admitting to nothing. However. This post did not make my stomach turn as it probably should have from reading the other comments. Double-dipping doesn’t bother me as long as I know the other dippers (intimately or at least know their hygiene habits and whether or not they french kiss their animals). Random hair does get me going (and not in a good way) if it’s anywhere near the vicinity of the kitchen. I’m not crazy about it in the bathroom either, but at least there’s an excuse for that random hair. I guess. Ewwww.
If it’s my hair, I’ll pick it out. If it’s at a restaurant, I’ll push the plate away and pretend I’m not hungry. If it’s hair from any part of the body other than the head, I’ll try not to be obvious about throwing up in my mouth.
Karla, this is the BEST appetite suppressant I’ve seen outside of watching Dr. Oz while eating!
I’m glad I’ve missed that pleasure.