Tyler Smith Chicken Bacon Ranch Dip

Fourth of July. The community center event. Ninety people this year — the largest crowd I have ever fed. The food was the pinnacle of six years of cooking: ribs smoked for eight hours, fried chicken in Mama's recipe, mac and cheese in hotel pans, greens slow-cooked from dawn, cornbread from cast-iron, banana pudding that disappeared in seven minutes (a new record). The smoked wings were the hit — people returned for seconds and thirds, and one woman told me they were the best wings she had ever eaten, which I accepted with gratitude and without arguing because you do not argue with a compliment about your wings. Marc was there. He came with Darius and Tanya and DJ. He ate six plates (a personal record that he announced to the crowd, who applauded his commitment). He played cornhole in the parking lot. He held Zaria on his shoulders and she screamed with delight because Uncle Marc is the tallest ride at the amusement park. He danced to the music — badly, joyfully, with the specific freedom of a man who does not care what he looks like because the moment is all that matters. I watched him dance. I stood at the grill, tongs in hand, smoke in my eyes, and I watched my little brother dance at a Fourth of July picnic in Detroit, and I felt the love that brothers feel — the fierce, possessive, automatic love that does not need to be spoken because it lives in the shared childhood, the shared parents, the shared table at Sunday dinner. Marc is my brother. He is loud and imperfect and occasionally irresponsible and always, always alive. The fireworks were spectacular. Aiden watched without flinching. Zaria danced. Marc set off sparklers in the parking lot and the light caught his face and he was grinning, and the grin was the last image of him that I carry from a night where everything was normal and good and the world had not yet ended. Three weeks later, the world ended.

The wings were the headliner that night, but every cookout needs something people can circle back to between plates — something warm and effortless that keeps the energy alive while the grill is still going. This Chicken Bacon Ranch Dip is what I bring when I need a dish that works in the background, the way the best people do: steady, generous, asking nothing in return. Marc had two scoops of it before his third plate of ribs, which is the highest compliment a man like Marc can give a dish without actually saying a word.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

2 (8 oz) blocks cream cheese, softened
1 cup sour cream
1 (1 oz) packet ranch seasoning mix
3 cups shredded cooked chicken (rotisserie works great)
8 strips bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled, divided
2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided
1/4 cup sliced green onions, plus more for garnish
1 tablespoon hot sauce (optional)
Tortilla chips, crackers, or sliced baguette for serving

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish or a large cast-iron skillet.
Mix the base. In a large bowl, beat the softened cream cheese until smooth. Add the sour cream and ranch seasoning packet and mix until fully combined and creamy.
Fold in the fillings. Stir in the shredded chicken, half the crumbled bacon, 1 1/2 cups of the shredded cheddar, the green onions, and hot sauce if using. Mix until everything is evenly distributed.
Assemble. Spread the mixture evenly into the prepared baking dish. Top with the remaining 1/2 cup cheddar and the remaining crumbled bacon.
Bake. Bake uncovered for 22–25 minutes, until the edges are bubbling and the cheese on top is melted and lightly golden.
Garnish and serve. Remove from oven, scatter sliced green onions over the top, and serve hot directly from the dish with tortilla chips, crackers, or toasted bread alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Tyler Smith Chicken Bacon Ranch Dip — The Wings Were the Hit, But This Is What People Come Back For