Spinach Dip -- Something to Pass Around While the Steaks Rest

May. The grass is up to the cows' bellies. The leaves are full on the cottonwoods. The wildflowers — arrowleaf balsamroot, lupine, larkspur — are starting in the south-facing slopes. The mornings are still cold but the afternoons have been in the sixties for ten days. The world is doing what the world does in May in central Montana. I am here for it.

I made bread every other day this week. The starter is responding. The loaves are getting better. Mom says the loaves are now indistinguishable from hers, which is a generous claim and which I do not entirely accept but which I appreciate. The bread is becoming a thing I do. I had not anticipated this. I had assumed bread was Mom's domain and I was content to let it be hers. The book project — the second book, which is starting to take shape in my head — is, I am beginning to see, going to be in part about bread. The bread and the fire. The two oldest cooking technologies. The two cooking technologies that hold the most weight for a man whose internal architecture was rebuilt in fire and who learned, late, to be fed.

I did not write any of that down. I will not for a while. The shape needs to keep settling. But I am noticing it.

Patrick has been steady. He came out to the barn Wednesday morning and stood in the doorway watching me clean tack. He said, You have your grandfather's saddle hung wrong. I said, Where. He said, The off side. The cantle should be facing the wall. I had it the other way around. He has been telling me how to hang saddles for thirty years and I had hung this one wrong on Sunday and he had spotted it Wednesday. I corrected it. He nodded. He went back to the porch. The shop was quiet. The correction was a small one. The fact that Patrick had walked from the porch to the barn to make it was the news.

I shod five horses across three days. The work is the work. The waiting list is now at twenty-two for late May and June. I have been pushing back appointments. The economy of the rural farrier in May is more demand than supply, period. I am at capacity. I am doing the work. I am sleeping. I am eating. I am thirty and I am, broadly, doing well. Some weeks broadly doing well is the thing to note. I am noting it.

Maggie is ten weeks. Cole and Tara came down Saturday for the cookout. Tara has been sleeping more. Maggie sleeps from ten to four most nights. Cole said, We are coming back. We are becoming people again. Tara said, I am still milkable, but I am also a person. We laughed. The men around the fire — eleven this week — passed Maggie around like a small package nobody could quite believe. Vince held her. Pete held her. Tom Whelan held her and looked at her face for a long minute and said, I would have liked to have one of you. He said it quietly. He meant it. His wife had not been able to. The men understood. We did not say more. Tom held Maggie for two minutes longer than the man before him had. Tara saw it. Tara said nothing about it. She let Tom hold the baby. The men understood that too. Some accommodations are made silently. The fire was big. The food was steaks. Marcus made two hundred twenty-one days. He held Maggie also. He had not held her since March. He said quietly to me later, You sleep again after a while. I said, Yeah. You do. He said, Good. I said, Yeah. The fire helps. The bread helps. Tom holding Maggie longer than necessary helps most of all.

Eleven men around a fire, steaks going, a baby being passed from hand to hand — the food that matters most at a night like that is the food nobody has to think about. The dip that’s just sitting there when you need something between the first beer and the first steak. I’ve been bringing this spinach dip to the Saturday cookouts since February and at this point the men expect it. Marcus asked about it before he even sat down. Some things become a thing without you planning for it. The bread. The dip. The fire.

Spinach Dip

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes + 2 hours chilling | Servings: 10–12

Ingredients

• 1 package (10 oz) frozen chopped spinach, thawed and squeezed very dry
• 1 cup sour cream
• 1 cup mayonnaise
• 1 packet (1.4 oz) dry vegetable soup mix
• 1 can (8 oz) water chestnuts, drained and roughly chopped
• 3 green onions, thinly sliced
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 1 round sourdough or pumpernickel loaf, for serving (optional)
• Crackers, sliced baguette, or raw vegetables for dipping

Instructions

1. Dry the spinach. Thaw the frozen spinach completely, then wrap it in a clean kitchen towel or several layers of paper towels and squeeze out as much liquid as possible. This step matters — wet spinach will thin the dip.
2. Combine the base. In a large bowl, stir together the sour cream and mayonnaise until smooth and fully combined.
3. Add the mix-ins. Stir in the dry vegetable soup mix, chopped water chestnuts, green onions, and garlic powder. Mix well.
4. Fold in the spinach. Add the dried spinach and fold it into the base until evenly distributed. Taste and adjust with salt and pepper.
5. Chill. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or overnight. The dip firms up and the flavors come together as it sits. Don’t skip this step.
6. Serve. If using a bread bowl, hollow out the sourdough loaf, reserving the torn pieces for dipping. Transfer the chilled dip to the bread bowl or a serving dish. Set out with crackers, bread, or vegetables.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 185 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 7g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 410mg