Rachel Thompson 
It happened at my friend Dana’s holiday party. I had made the most incredible white queso dip — velvety, spicy, absolutely perfect. Then it sat on the counter for forty minutes. By the time the second wave of guests arrived,…
It was a Saturday afternoon, two hours before my annual summer cookout, and I was elbow-deep in a chickpea disaster. My old blender was whining like it was about to take off. The hummus looked grainy. The texture was completely…
It was a Saturday night in November, and I was elbow-deep in a spinach artichoke dip disaster. My ceramic baking dish had cracked — right in the oven, mid-party — and twenty hungry guests were staring at me like I’d…
It was Super Bowl Sunday, forty-five minutes before kickoff, and my queso had broken. Completely, embarrassingly, grease-pooling-on-top broken. My friends were pulling into the driveway. The chips were already in the bowl. I was standing over a pot of what…
It was a Saturday afternoon, forty-five minutes before my friends arrived for game night. I had three dips ready — queso blanco, roasted garlic hummus, and a chunky guacamole — but zero serving situation to speak of. My mismatched bowls…
It started with a spinach artichoke dip disaster. My friend’s birthday party, thirty people crammed into a backyard, and me showing up with a beautiful warm dip in a ceramic bowl — and absolutely nowhere to put it. The folding…
It was a Saturday afternoon, and I was standing in my kitchen staring at a truly embarrassing situation. My spinach artichoke dip was bubbling in the oven. A giant batch of roasted red pepper hummus was chilling in the fridge….
It was a Tuesday night before a big Friday party, and I was elbow-deep in a double batch of spinach artichoke dip. My old rubber spatula — the sad, warped one that had survived too many hot pans — was…
I have been making whipped feta dip for about eight years. I know that because I can pinpoint exactly when I first made it — a New Year’s Eve party in 2016 where I showed up with three dips and…
I have a reputation at every gathering I attend. People don’t ask me what I’m bringing anymore — they just ask how much. For over twelve years, I have shown up to parties, potlucks, holiday spreads, and random Tuesday night…
