It's always a neat feeling for cookbook aficionados to find something truly new. Some books speak to your soul or your practicality, some drive you crazy. Still others wrap you in a warm cocoon, whether or not you ever cook a thing from them. Never, though, have I imagined an author and a group of her friends getting face-meltingly high, coming up with a bonkers idea for a concept album of a cookbook about dips, then, miraculously, selling the idea and executing at a high level.
Grab a chip, friends, it's time for some dip. You will likely be stopped cold by the art here, a tilt-shift-esque extravaganza of kitschy-fun props and dips galore, all wrangled by a team of six stylists who had to be doing it for the love. There is, for example, a two-page summer-grilling-themed photo featuring miniature figurines lounging in the outdoors around a giant ceramic hamburger, arm-in-arm squeeze bottles of ketchup and mustard, a pool with a plastic piano and “chopped cheese (burger) queso” dip in a “burger and all the fixings” themed plate/bowl combo, all on a checkerboard of white tile and possibly real grass.
Pun lovers, rejoice! Whitney goes so deep on dip vocabulary that eventually you’ll succumb and become a—brace yourself!—“dipficionado.” Her “freak-a-leek beer cheese dip” is the dipification of her friend Erin McDowell's cheddar-ale soup, which can be served hot or cold. Chez Joe, I made the chilled version, adding a bit of horseradish for kick. When you're ready to go wild, throw a head of romaine into the food processor, the first step on your way to Caesar salad dip, an extra-fun cousin of green goddess dressing.
Many of Whitney's other recipes are as over-the-top as the Caesar, but along with being a big dip person, Whitney is clearly a food person, with credits that include stints with magazines and TV shows. Her energy and skill will rub off on you. Go ahead and dare yourself. It'll be diplicious.