Tag Archives: ranch dressing

Pass me the ranch

I just love ranch dressing. Pass me the ranch! That’s what I’m always saying, pass me the ranch. It tastes great on everything, chicken nuggets, celery sticks, popcorn, yeah, everybody knows that. That’s what ranch rookies use as a medium to consume their ranch dressing. But when I say it goes good on everything, I mean it. Like I put ranch on everything that I put into my mouth.

ranch dressings

Like even if I need a drink of water. Even if I’m playing basketball or running a race and I’m sweating all over the place and my throat is dry and I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it another second without some serious rehydration, while all of my teammates are running for their water bottles or all of the other runners are slowing it down for one of those Gatorade stops, you’ll still hear me saying, “Pass the ranch.”

Because ranch has water in it. Everything has water in it. It’s basic physics. Water is one of the building blocks of everything. Right? So the trick in a situation where you really need some water it to just put down a ton of ranch dressing, like three or four bottles. And while I’ve been known to occasionally put my lips straight to the bottle, it’s really not in line with the spirit of ranch dressing, which by its nature, kind of suggests needing something to eat it with.

Usually something flavorless is better, like that celery stick I was talking about earlier. But there are so many tasteless, bland foods out there that make perfect vehicles for ranch consumption in heavy quantities. Lice rice cakes. Man, you get a solid enough rice cake, that thing can hold like half a bottle, maybe more if you’ve got a steady pour.

Or you know what’s a really professional ranch move? You go to an Asian grocery store, you buy some plain white soy paper, I think they use it for sushi or something, I don’t know. You moisten it slightly, I’m talking just moist enough so you can form it into a round cup without breaking. You make a bunch of these rounds, like one inch, two inches in diameter, you fill them with ranch and then stick two of them together to make a ball. Booyah, instant ranch bomb. One day I want to get in touch with one of those paintball manufacturers. Wouldn’t it be a cool idea to make like ranch paintballs? Because honestly, it’s one of the main reasons why I’ve never been paintballing: how are you supposed to make sure your ranch doesn’t get contaminated with paint? Ranchball, it’s going to happen sooner or later.

Or sometimes I like to go to restaurants that I know don’t serve ranch. I sit at the table and order a whole bunch of food, like chicken fingers, and fries, and onion rings, and more fries, and then when everything comes out, I’m like, hey waitress, where’s the ranch? I don’t even give her a chance to tell me that they don’t have ranch, I just keep peppering her with requests. Where’s the ranch? Bring me some extra ranch. Did you get that ranch yet? All while she’s still standing there passing out the chicken fingers and fries.

And then when she says they don’t have ranch, I like to make a big stink, like what kind of a place doesn’t have ranch? After the manager comes over and apologizes, usually he takes something off the bill, I send him away. And it’s OK, really, because I always have my own ranch with me. I keep a bottle in my jacket and a few emergency packets in my pants pockets. One time one of those packets exploded when I sat down too hard, and my sister, she was like, “Rob, are you still carrying around packets of ranch? I told you that was a bad idea, and now you’ve gone and done it.”

But I don’t mind, I love ranch dressing. What’s a little loose ranch dressing in my pockets? Now every time I go reach for my keys or see if I have any spare change, I can lick my fingers and get a little ranch pick me up. And I get to smell like ranch also. Or, I should say, I get to smell more like ranch, because I always cut my shampoo with just a little bit, just so if I’m working out and I start to sweat, when it drips down from my head to my mouth, it tastes a little ranchy.

Anybody looking for an easy investment? I’ve been trying to get this restaurant off the ground, we’d call either just Ranch, or Rob’s Ranch, I haven’t decided. I don’t want to make people think that I think that I own ranch, like it’s mine. Ranch is for everyone. But anyway, that’s not really important. It would be a regular restaurant, you know, grilled cheese, hamburgers, chicken fingers, but you wouldn’t have to ask any waiters or waitresses for ranch. No, there’s going to be a ranch gun installed next to every seat. So you just ask for some more celery sticks, and that’s it, you don’t have to bother anybody for extra ranch, like even more, like you’re only going to bring me two? You might as well make it four, or eight if you want to save yourself another trip back to the kitchen.

Hit me up, or if you see me on the street, let me know you’re interested. I’m the guy with the I Love Ranch t-shirt on, with the kind of greasy looking pockets, sometimes, usually. Yeah, it’s messy, but what can I say? I just love it. I just love ranch dressing.

I love mayonnaise: An ode to mayonnaise

I just had a sandwich for lunch. Two sandwiches. I’ve been using a lot of mayonnaise lately, on everything. Most people, when you start talking about mayo, they’ll be like, “Ew! I hate mayo! Gross!” which is crazy, because it’s so tasty, it’s oil and eggs, it’s the basis for like fifty percent of everything delicious that comes out of the supermarket.

I’m planning on having another sandwich, maybe tonight after I get home from work, maybe tomorrow for lunch. Maybe both. Probably both. I’ve got it all figured out. Sometimes I’ll make a spicy mayonnaise, like I’ll blend mayo and spices and peppers and mix it all up. It’s more like a dressing at that point. I think most salad dressings are basically just mayo with some stuff in it, which is why I never understand people at restaurants, they’ll be like, “I’ll have a burger. No mayo. I’d like it medium. Can you make sure they don’t put any mayo on that? And some fries. Again, I can’t stress enough how much I really don’t want any mayonnaise anywhere near my plate. Got it? Oh by the way, do you have ranch dressing? Yeah, I’ll take a gallon.”

Obviously I’m only talking about the creamy dressings. Not like vinaigrette. Creamy vinaigrette? I’ve never heard of it. I’m sure they sell it somewhere. I remember when I was a little kid we’d go over my grandparents’ house for dinner pretty regularly, and whereas at our house we had our own way of eating dinner, at my grandparents’ house, my grandma always made a big salad in a bowl and she gave out separate smaller wooden bowls just for that salad. And there would always be like twelve bottles of dressing to choose from.

My favorite was creamy Italian. It’s what I was describing earlier, I guess, some sort of a creamy vinaigrette. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m not describing it right. But I’d add probably a handful of greens and tomatoes to the bowl before filling it to the brim with creamy Italian dressing. At this point, the few vegetables that actually made it to my plate were nothing more than a medium for me to eat as much dressing as possible. Creamy Italian was so good. On a side note, when you go to restaurants now, and you ask what kind of dressings they have, it’s never Italian anymore, it’s always vinaigrette, or just balsamic, which isn’t even complete, it’s just vinegar, and the vinaigrette, it doesn’t even have any mayo at all, like I already said.

I’ve tried making my own mayo from scratch. Yeah, it’s OK. It never comes out thick like store bought does. Man, I’m hungry just thinking about all of this mayo. But wait a second, I’m actually freaking out, I think I’ve accidentally stumbled across a repressed memory here. Oh my God, it’s a strong one, it’s coming through, yes, I can see it now, I’m at a deli somewhere on a road trip. I ask for a sandwich, extra mayo. I unwrap it and take a big bite, but something’s not right.

What’s that taste? And the texture, it feels kind of weird also, like what I imagine paint would feel like if I put it in my mouth by the spoonful. Did a whole colony of algae somehow make it onto my cold cuts? I raise my head up from my sandwich to ask the deli guy what’s wrong, but my mouth is glued shut. It’s horrible. I can’t chew anymore and there’s no way I’m going to be able to choke down an entire bite.

“What’s wrong?” the deli guy asks me, noticing that I’m visibly distressed, “Did I make your sandwich the wrong way? Did you want any more Miracle Whip? I put a lot on there just like you asked me.”

I spent the rest of the day puking my brains out. Miracle Whip. Gross. If there’s something that we can all rally behind, it’s that Miracle Whip should be regulated like a class one narcotic. That stuff’s not even real. It’s not mayonnaise. It’s a sandwich spread. It’s white. It looks like mayonnaise, from a distance anyway. Actually, no it doesn’t. It’s not even close. It’s disgusting. Please take my word for it, I’m not exaggerating.

Not like mayonnaise. I just love mayonnaise. My favorite cartoon character is Patty Mayonnaise from Doug. When I get sick, I insist on getting treated at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. If I could start my own TV show, it would be called Man Vs. Mayo, starring me, with the premise being exactly that of Man Vs. Food, but instead of food, I’d just challenge myself to eat as much mayonnaise as possible, every episode.

Before I end it here, I’d like to point out that you don’t see enough dessert mayonnaise. I think that’s got to change eventually. Just add some sugar, some vanilla extract. I’d eat a bowl of that. Actually, that sounds pretty good, I think I have all of those ingredients right here in my kitchen. Yeah, so, I’ll let you know how it turns out. Now if you’ll excuse me.