Double-Dipping Confusion

My return may end up being a brief one, if this is the kind of product I have to deal with...

OUTTA LEFTFIELD: Stick a fork in those Super Bowl buffet double-dippers
Published: Tuesday, February 07, 2012
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor

This column is not only insufferably long, but suffers from the following defects:

1.) Overall confusion on the definition of the term "double-dip"
2.) Variations on the term "double-dip" are used no less than 14 times
3.) Seinfeld covered this topic fifteen years ago

The highlights:

I am not a double-dipper, at least not in front of anyone. In my younger days, though, I was notorious for drinking directly out of the milk jug. That was, until I got caught one time and spent the next three days picking plastic out of my ear, unceremoniously put there by someone who was drinking out of the same jug, only not directly.

... What? Re-write that last sentence, but this time, have it make a lick of sense. Does it surprise anyone that he drinks milk directly out of the jug? It shouldn't. He probably also spills milk on himself and snorts it out of his nose.

But my dad was a shameless world class double-dipper — the Kobayashi of Double-Dipping as it were — and it was his dinner table indiscretions over the course of many years that eventually convinced me that I would, for the most part, not follow in his footsteps.

Please note - at no point in this column does Borsch provide a definitive explanation of exactly what "double-dipping" is, despite using the phrase in almost every pharagraph. As it turns out, he seems a little confused on the definition himself.

And my pop wasn’t even subtle about it. When it came time for seconds — or even after the meal was over — he would take his fork and pick right out of the bowls of food that were left on the table.

One wonders how someone could, in fact, be subtle about getting up, walking back to a buffet table, taking additional food, and sitting back down. And just so we're clear - "double-dipping" apparently means using your own utensil to pick food out of communal bowls.

Per Urban Dictionary: Favorite behavior of crude diners. Involves dipping your... chip into a sauce, taking a bite... and then re-dipping the half digested item back into the sauce.

This drove my ex-wife completely stark-raving crazy-go-nuts, so much so that she would go to great lengths to make sure my dad’s fork didn’t poison anyone else’s food at the table. This was after I had politely asked my dad to stop doing it and he had politely promised to comply only to forget and revert back to old habits every time Thanksgiving rolled around.

If you're curious as to why this woman is his ex-wife, you haven't been paying attention.

Here’s how bad it eventually got: One Thanksgiving at our house, my ex had prepared the entire meal with all the trimmings, which anyone who undertakes the preparing of the Thanksgiving meals knows is no small task.

To minimize the effectiveness of my pop’s double-dipping, she prepared a series of extra, smaller bowls of each of the meal’s offerings. My dad got his own platter of turkey, his own bowl of mashed potatoes, his own dish of green-been casserole and his own pumpkin pie.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... Just to make sure that he includes as much dull, plodding detail as possible, this story goes on for TWO MORE PARAGRAPHS. Sheer torture.

These days, I am fortunate in that I am the only one in my house who will eat leftovers. Once the meal is finished, if there is any food left, I am secure in the knowledge that if I choose to double-dip, it is affecting only me. The greatest advantage to that arrangement, of course, is the fact that I get all the leftovers, which is perfectly fine with me.

He's operating on the theory that, if he just uses the terms "leftovers" and "double-dip" enough, it will magically transform from "not funny" to "very funny." He's like a modern-day humor alchemist.

It seems to me, though, that policing the double-dippers at a well-attended Super Bowl party may be a bit more problematic than it would be at one’s own dinner table. There can be a lot of kibitzing, imbibing of spirits and mulling about at a Super Bowl party and policing the food area between expensive commercials can be challenging, especially amidst all the distractions from goofy monkeys, cute babies, cute dogs, Elton John, Madonna, Clint Eastwood and Jerry Seinfeld.

I literally can't believe we're still talking about this. This topic has no interest. It almost has negative interest - the more I read about it, the less I wish I knew.

The column then undergoes a strange transformation - our earlier definition of "double-dipping" changes so that it now conforms with the more traditional meaning.

You tell me if this would be OK at your Super Bowl party: I am partaking of the celery sticks and onion dip. (This would be your party, not mine. At my Super Bowl party we serve cocktail weenies, pizza rolls, the special family chip dip and Girl Scout thin mints for dessert.) I take a piece of celery — one that is too long to fit into my mouth in one bite — and dip the end of the stick into the onion dip. I then bite that stick in half, flip it over to the other end that doesn’t have any dip on it, and then dip again.

This whole "crisis" can be avoided by spooning a small amount of said dip onto your plate for your own personal use. That would, however, require thought - something that causes Borsch to break out in a cold sweat.

I see nothing wrong with that. Technically, I have not double-dipped the end of the celery that has come in contact with my mouth. But my sense is that most of the rest of you would flag me for a double-dip violation. In days of yore during my first marriage, the celery stunt would have gotten me my own table out in the garage for Thanksgiving.

The fact that Borsch can use the term "first marriage" makes me fear for all of humanity.

So I understand that some people are uncomfortable with double-dipping, which is why I don’t do it to anybody but myself. Really, though, can I even double-dip myself? Isn’t that what I do every time I eat anyway?

One time I watched a hip replacement on TV. It was sheer brutality - splitting flesh and muscle, sawing through joints, hammering and drilling into bone... Reading this column is a lot like watching a hip replacement.

My guess is that if the Eagles could win just one Super Bowl anytime soon, we could stick a fork in the double-dipping issue, at least for as long as it takes to have one big party.

Why? How does the Eagles winning the Super Bowl makes your one hypothetical situation okay? And make up your mind - does "double-dipping" involve the use of a fork or a chip/veggie?

Since this is the type of effortless slop that became so common toward late 2011, I might return to the shadows. Only time (and the next Borsch column) will tell...