The Best 7-Layer Dip

Pay attention. SEVEN LAYERS. Seven. Not six. Not five. Not four-and-a-half because somebody got lazy and combined the beans with the guac, which by the way is a CRIME against dip and the people who built it should be embarrassed. Seven distinct, beautiful, glorious layers. Stacked. Architecturally sound. The dip equivalent of a great building — and the engineering on a properly built 7-layer dip rivals any structure you'd see in any major city, this is not even a controversial statement.

I've eaten 7-layer dips in every state. Twice. Even in New Jersey, and NOBODY talks about the New Jersey 7-layer dip game but they should, there's a woman in Hoboken who runs a Super Bowl spread that would make you weep. Most 7-layer dips, though, are a SOUP. A sad, runny, beige, weeping soup in a glass dish, where you stick a chip in and the chip comes out looking like it survived a flood. That's not dip. That's a tragedy in a Pyrex. I see these collapsing dips at parties and I think, 'how did we get here, who did this to America, who has failed us so completely.' But I don't say anything. I'm a guest. I have manners. I just walk away from the dip and live with the grief.

MY dip is different. My dip stands TALL. The beans are thick — and seasoned, not naked, naked refried beans is a separate crime. The guac is chunky. The sour cream layer is its OWN distinct cloud, stabilized with a touch of mayo so it doesn't weep — a trick the cookbook authors hate. You can see every layer through the side of the glass dish like a geological wonder, like the Grand Canyon of appetizers. People will photograph it before they eat it. That's how you know you've won. Tremendous.

Serve it cold, with the sturdiest chips you can find — and the sturdy chip is important, the thin chip is going to snap halfway in and you'll have a chip casualty and chip casualties RUIN parties. Use a tortilla chip with shoulders. With backbone. A chip that knows who it is. Then watch your guests fight politely over the last scoop, watch the dish get scraped clean, watch the bottom of the dish appear like an archaeological dig. That's success. That's a Bigly party. You're welcome.