I can't believe I'm eating this!

I am an admitted food snob. Local, sustainable, organic, free ranging, heirloom, artisanal, all buzz words. Every single one of them. But there comes a time when I have to 'fess up: there are things that I eat, that I LOVE, that defy all of those categories. Call 'em what you want: comfort foods they ain't. "Red light foods," like they use in Weight Watchers, they ain't either. It's another one of those things I can't explain.

And you 'fess up too, gentle reader: you have em too. Maybe it's a Nestle's Crunch bar (I'm there on that one), or caramel popcorn (got some to share with me?), or cool whip (I'll pass on that one), we can all make a list of the things we eat that we shouldn't. But it's much more fun to look at someone else eating something and saying "HIM? HER? I can't believe that" But unless you're someone like the sanctimonious party pooper who once wrote an article about how her secret midnight snack was soy milk yogurt (OH PULEEEEEEEZE), you've got one or more of the bad foods in your list. Even Alice Waters admits to a weakness to potato chips.

So, last week, my buddy David asked me for a recipe for an appetizer I make at New Year's. All he said was "you know the one!!!!" I knew the one immediately. And if you step back from this, you would say "DAVID???? YOU???" David plays the cello. David plays the cello at the Met Opera. He's handsome (STOP BLUSHING DAVID. It's true), he's smart (Now he's saying "well, that's right), and if he asked to move into our apartment we'd be there with a truck right now. On one level, the man sweat sophistication. Get to know him better, and the boy from Upstate NY comes out. And at least he 'fessed up to loving this incredibly bad for you dish. I KNOW other people like it, because when I make it, it's gone. People pass over the crab cakes (well, maybe not those), but they pass over the smoked salmon, the stuffed mushrooms, the other goodies, and dig in to this dip. Piling it on bread, piling it on crackers, shoveling it in. And I'm right there with them.

The origin of the dish is very simple. We used to stay at a bed and breakfast in San Francisco called "Petit Auberge" (there was a definite article, but I forget the one, and I'm not embarrassing myself any more in this blog). They had tea and sherry every afternoon at 4, with a hot savory and a cold sweet. Their artichoke cheese savory was reason enough to be back at the hotel early. In fact, we used to ask, at the start of the day "is artichoke dip on the menu?" It was THAT good.

Ok, ok, ok. TEACH US. Well, here it is. And after all my rantings and ravings about "nothing canned," the sins of Hellman's, and everything else, shoot me. I'll make this about five or six times between now and New Year's, and I'll love it each time.

To make one dish of this (and you can quadruple this recipe. That's how much of it I have made, using a can of artichokes so big I could have cut off Grendel's head with the lid), you need three cans of artichokes. Don't bother with the expensive kinds. You're going to drain them and chop them up, so if the cheaper ones are broken pieces, get those. Anyway, like I say, drain them and chop them up, into small pieces. You don't have to be neurotic about this part. Then grate half a pound of Jahrlsberg, or some other cheese into them, and add half a cup of full fat mayonnaise (don't bother with the homemade stuff. It's not as good with the homemade, I swear). Grate a bit of parmesan in (but this time, DO use the good stuff), mix it all up, put it in a baking dish, and bake it for 30 minutes or so, at 350. The mayonnaise will begin to bubble, and the dish will brown slightly. You're done. Serve it warm, with crackers or toast, or cold, the same way. And sometimes, if there's some left over, you can wake up early in the morning, eat it right out of the refrigerator, and then deny there were any leftovers to your partner. He won't believe you, but hey, it's gone now.