
It's no secret that I love dips, spreads, and condiments of all kinds. I regularly return from a grocery trip with a bag filled solely with cylindrical containers. (Almond butter, hummus, tahini, labneh, and chili garlic sauce; the five main food groups.) I run out of spoons even more quickly than I do clean socks in the winter.
Something about the unbridled and unadorned consumption of an amorphous, softly textured semi-solid brings me all the pleasure in the world. Call it an affinity for nursery food, or a disproportionate appetite for concentrated flavor—or call it nothing at all, and just hand me that jar of crunchy peanut butter.
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