AT all but the most archly ironic parties, classic creamy dips seem to have gone the way of pigs in a blanket. Salsa and guacamole are inescapable, and even hummus is more likely to turn up with the cocktail du jour. When it comes to party food, immigrants rule.
But it doesn't take a Minuteman to know what will always be most irresistible. The all-American dip, the dairy-based kind that clings to chips and crudites alike, is one of the most seductive innovations of that age of innocence, the 1950s. The contrasting combination of crunchy and silky textures, of saltiness against creaminess, is so perfect it's hard not to double-dip.
Dips are just the guiltiest of pleasures, which has to be why salsa and hummus moved into their territory. In all the nutrition nuttiness over the last 20 years, Americans were clearly looking for alternatives to sour cream and mayonnaise and cream cheese, especially all three together. Unfortunately, fat-free perversions did more harm than good -- anyone craving the real deal could eat a whole tub of chemically altered dairy product and never get any satisfaction.
Now that fats have been partially rehabilitated, the classic dips look better than ever. You just have to forget those mid-century ideas about the rest of the ingredients and bring old favorites into a fresh era.
Start with that old party stalwart, artichoke cheese dip. Its origins are murky, but it generally comprises artichoke hearts, mayonnaise and Parmesan, baked together into edible proof that the only thing better than plain mayonnaise is mayonnaise bubbling with cheese. In most recipes the artichokes are canned (and taste of tin) or marinated (and taste of vinegar and whatever dried spices the producer bought in bulk).
You get cleaner, much more robust flavor by starting at the beginning and steaming whole artichokes and dicing the hearts. The cooking is easy, and the leftover leaves can either be used to dunk into the dip or eaten as a snack all by themselves. Real Parmigiano-Reggiano also elevates this dip into another dimension from Kraft in the green can, and a freshly roasted poblano chile adds a hot and smoky undertone.
(For a superb variation, try diced Vidalia onion, mayonnaise and grated cheddar, blended in the same proportions and baked the same amount of time. It's not classy, but it is good.)
