The Great Christmas Eve Dip Incident
By the time she realized something had gone terribly, deliciously wrong, the food processor was already humming like it had a personal vendetta against moderation.
It started innocently enough. A Christmas Eve gathering. A handful of friends. A noble plan to put out “a little vegetable dip” so people could feel virtuous before absolutely demolishing cookies, cheese, and anything wrapped in bacon. Sensible. Wholesome. Responsible.
What she did not realize—what no one warned her about—was that the dip recipe she chose was apparently written for a situation involving troop morale, trench warfare, or at minimum a very hungry battalion.
She followed the recipe exactly. No doubling. No improvising. Just honest, rule-abiding cooking. Yogurt. Sour cream. Herbs. Garlic. Lemon. Salt. Into the food processor it all went, blending into something fresh and bright and immediately addictive.
Then she transferred it to a bowl.
And then another bowl.
And then stood there, spatula in hand, staring at what could only be described as a defensive fortification of dip.
There was enough dip to comfortably bathe a family of carrots.
Still, she pressed on. Vegetables were chopped with confidence. Carrots into sticks. Peppers into strips. Cucumbers into coins. Broccoli broken down like it had personally offended her. The platter grew. The dip situation escalated. At some point, the serving bowl required strategic placement and emotional acceptance.
When guests arrived, they reacted exactly as you’d hope. Compliments. Enthusiastic first scoops. Someone said, “Wow, that’s a lot of dip,” in the reverent tone usually reserved for scenic overlooks and newborn babies. She laughed, waved it off, pretended this was all very normal and intentional.
Reader, everyone went full.
An hour later, the vegetable tray looked like it had been through a small but decisive war. The dip, however, remained. Calm. Expansive. Still three-quarters full, as if quietly daring someone to try again.
People moved on. To wine. To cookies. To cheese. The dip stayed put, a creamy monument to culinary overconfidence and poorly scaled recipes.
At the end of the night, she packed it up. All of it. Containers upon containers. Dip for tomorrow. Dip for the next day. Dip that would reappear in lunches, dinners, and late-night fridge visits like an overly enthusiastic ghost of Christmas Eve.
For a week afterward, every vegetable in her house met the same fate.
And honestly? No regrets.
Because there are worse problems than too much dip. Worse mistakes than trusting a recipe. Worse legacies than being remembered as the person who was exceptionally prepared for vegetables.
Next year, she says, she’ll check the serving size.
She won’t.
Recipe: The Dip That Could Feed an Army
A festive vegetable dip with unrealistic confidence
Yield: Officially “serves 8–10.” Spiritually serves a platoon.
Prep time: 10 minutes
Cook time: Absolutely none
Ingredients
- 2 cups plain Greek yogurt (full-fat if you love yourself)
- 1½ cups sour cream
- 3 cloves garlic, finely grated or minced
- ¼ cup fresh dill, finely chopped
- ¼ cup fresh parsley, finely chopped
- 2 tablespoons fresh chives, finely chopped
- Zest of 1 lemon
- 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (or more, inevitably)
- 1½ teaspoons kosher salt, to taste
- ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- Optional but encouraged:
- ½ teaspoon onion powder
- ¼ teaspoon smoked paprika
- A drizzle of olive oil for finishing
Instructions
- Begin with confidence.
In a very large bowl (larger than you think you need), combine the yogurt and sour cream. Stir until smooth and unified. - Add the aromatics.
Mix in the garlic, dill, parsley, chives, lemon zest, and lemon juice. At this point, pause briefly to admire how professional you feel. - Season generously.
Add salt and pepper, plus any optional seasonings. Stir well, taste, adjust, taste again, adjust again. This step will take longer than expected. - Accept your fate.
Notice how much dip you have. Resist the urge to panic. This is happening. - Chill (optional, unlike you).
Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes to let the flavors meld. Or serve immediately if guests are already eyeing the bowl. - Finish and serve.
Drizzle lightly with olive oil if desired. Serve with an aggressively large assortment of vegetables: carrots, cucumbers, peppers, broccoli, snap peas—anything sturdy enough to handle repeated dipping.
Storage
Keeps well in the fridge for up to 5 days, assuming you don’t find new excuses to eat it with every meal.
Notes
- This dip improves overnight.
- It pairs well with vegetables, crackers, chips, spoons, and regret-free snacking.
- If you think you made too much, you didn’t. You just made plans.
Happy dipping.