A Brief History of Cheese Dip in the Modern South

Cheese Dip
Road Trip
A Brief History of Cheese Dip
in the Modern South
STORY AND PHOTOS BY JUSTIN FOX BURKS
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EDIBLE MEMPHIS | WINTER 2012
P
eppered throughout my mother’s cookbooks, among the
handwritten recipes for Southern classics such as oyster
dressing and family favorites such as Linda Sue’s Cheese
Grit Shrimp Sauce, amidst yellowed newspaper clippings
for things like Mud Island Pie and Moist Zucchini Bread, are no less
than three recipes for what we all refer to around these parts as cheese
dip. (The number of cheese dip recipes is only outnumbered by the
sheer glut of chess pie variations, my mom’s absolute favorite dessert.)
Though the recipes are nearly identical, each 3 x 5 index card for the
cheese dip recipe is labeled differently: Pancho Dip, Pancho Cheese,
and Pancho’s Cheese Dip.
In our family, as with so many families in Memphis and the MidSouth, we never celebrated anything — birthdays, homecomings, and
even Christmas — without the omnipresent bowl of cheese dip and
corn chips. I’m pretty sure everyone in my family would choose
cheese dip over turkey on Thanksgiving if it ever came down to that.
There was always worry that dip after dip, after dip, would ruin our
dinner, but it never did. So, I can’t help but ask the question: where
does this quasi-Mexican dish fit on the Southern table, and how did
it make its way to Memphis?
heard it, but I wasn’t completely sold on the idea. I still need to piece
the cheesy puzzle together in order to better understand why this
comfort food has always been in my life.
You see, most Memphians, myself included, were introduced to the
ubiquitous gooey dip by Pancho’s restaurant. The original Pancho’s
opened in West Memphis, Arkansas, in 1956. Like the first Mexican
Chiquito, Pancho’s had dirt floors and boasted a killer cheese dip. I’m
starting to see a connection. The two restaurants were in the same
state and a mere 150 miles or so away. Okay, I’m convinced of the
presence of cheese dip in the South, but not the invention. There had
to be melted cheese in a bowl well before these two places made it
onto the scene, right?
I definitely need to figure out the difference between the Southern
American cheese dip we know and anything resembling it in Mexico,
so I turned to my friend Jonathan Magallanes, owner of Las Tortugas
in Germantown. Jonathan and I grew up together here in town, but
First, let’s be clear about what we are talking about here. I’d like to establish exactly what cheese dip is as a favor to any of you Yankees,
Midwesterners, or Pacific North-Westerners who may have wandered
into our neck of the woods. If you’ve been here long enough, you’re
bound to have run across and possibly fallen in love with the stuff.
Article two of the rules of the World Cheese Dip Championship (yes,
that’s a real thing), held for the past two years in Little Rock,
Arkansas, clearly states: “Cheese dip is defined by the WCDC as a dip
made of primarily cheese(s) or processed cheese product, with or
without additional ingredients, not limited to meats, vegetables, or
dairy additives, served warm or hot and eaten primarily by dipping a
hard tortilla or chip into said product.”
Allow me to translate: it’s creamy, melted cheese with stuff in it, and
you eat it using a corn chip.
According to In Queso Fever: A Movie About Cheese Dip, cheese dip as
we know it was invented in central Arkansas in the 1930s by an
Irishman known as “Blackie” Donnelly, a guy who owned a
restaurant called Mexico Chiquito. Wait...what? Cheese dip was invented in Arkansas! This is all starting to make sense. So that makes
cheese dip a Southern classic suitable to be served alongside my
grandaddy’s cornbread and grandma’s dumplings. The fact that
cheese dip originated so close to home blew my mind when I first
Right: Large-scale cheese dip production at St. Clair Foods.
EDIBLE MEMPHIS | WINTER 2012
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his family is from Mexico, which makes him uniquely qualified to
make this cheese dip distinction for me.
“I’ve heard of queso Chihuahua, a name which brings to mind some
strange imagery for sure. Is that considered cheese dip?” I asked.
Johnathan explained, “In Mexico, the closest thing to cheese dip is
Oaxaca or Chihuahua cheese melted in a skillet over fire or baked in
the oven. It’s then garnished with cilantro, avocado, crema, and any
number of salsas. It’s spooned into corn tortillas fresh from the comal.”
Oh, my goodness, that sounds good! I thought to myself.
He continued, “You are in essence making melted cheese tacos.”
“So...?” I asked.
“It’s not a dip, but it is a cheese-based starter that is typically shared,”
he said.
Good enough for me. Cheese dip is not Mexican. It’s official. “How
do you feel about the Southern American version of cheese dip?” I
asked.
“I love it. I’ll eat it all night,” he replied.
It’s time to get serious! I decided to call on the man who has devoted
so much of his life to the beloved dip. He’s the director of In Queso
Fever: A Movie About Cheese Dip, as well as the creator of the
Southern Cheese Dip Academy, the non-profit agency that puts on
the World Cheese Dip Competition each year. Of course, I’m talking
about Nick Rogers. I’ll bet this guy has pure cheese dip running
through his veins. He broke it down for me very quickly.
“It seems that cheese dip was born of Mexican ingredients and
Southern sensibilities,” he explains.
And just like that, it’s all so clear now. That, of course, is the answer
for which I’ve been searching. Cheese dip is Mexican-ish, but it’s not
Mexican. It’s, well, a deliciously inauthentic Southern translation of a
Mexican dish. Yeah!
Cheese dip has certainly found a permanent home here as evidenced
by the number of fierce devotees. Wayward Memphians often find
themselves in a cruel and cheese-dip-less world when living outside of
the Southern United States. While researching for this story, I’ve
heard tales of paying an exorbitant price for the last, dusty can of
Ro*tel in a bodega in Brooklyn, gotten sage advice on the best way to
ship the dip, and horror stories about cheese dip-covered clothes as a
result of if it not being packed properly. I’ve been warned not to even
attempt to order cheese dip in Sun Valley, Idaho — or even as close as
St. Louis. If you do, you are quite likely to end up with a bowl of
bean dip with a dab of melted cheese on top.
There are a few dedicated folks trying to break through the cheese dip
ceiling. While Pancho’s dip is only available in Alabama, Arkansas,
Kentucky, and select parts of Tennessee and Missouri, Brian Edmunds is spreading the cheese dip gospel far and wide in the form of
the El Terrifico brand that his Memphis-based company, St. Clair
Foods, produces for Memphis-based BBQ giant Corky’s. According
to Andy Woodman, one of the owners of Corky’s BBQ, El Terrifico
cheese dip is available coast-to-coast and nationwide. That’s terrific-o
news for people living above the Mason-Dixon. While he admits the
strongest sales are in the Southern states, he tells me that the growth
of cheese dip sales over the past 12 years has been amazing, and it’s all
been due to word of mouth.
How popular is it? “We make El Terrifico in 3,000-pound batches.”
Edmunds told me on a recent visit to St. Clair Foods. I was even lucky
enough to witness the process. It was like the cheese-dip version of
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and I was a willing Augustus Gloop.
All in all, I’m so happy to have my mother’s cookbooks. I can look
through them anytime and discover something new about who we are
as a family and, in turn, who I am as a person, as a cook, and as a
Southerner. I love to think back to all of the laughs I’ve had with
family and friends around a warm bowl of cheese dip. Many times,
I’ve been asked what’s so great about cheese dip. I have a million answers now that I know its history, but the best thing about it is that
it’s not something you ever eat alone. eM
El Terrifico Cheese Dip at St. Clair Foods
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EDIBLE MEMPHIS | WINTER 2012
Recipe cards from Justin’s mother
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— COVER RECIPE —
CHEESE DIP
Recipe by Justin Fox Burks
3 small poblano peppers
1 jalapeño pepper
3 small-to-medium tomatoes
¾ teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon garlic powder
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup buttermilk
¼ teaspoon salt
Scant 1⁄8 teaspoon cayenne
¼ pound Bonnie Blue cave-aged goat milk cheddar
(rind removed, shredded)
½ pound sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
1 bag of corn chips (Brimm’s, made in Bartlett, TN)
Roast peppers and tomatoes until blackened over a high flame on
your outdoor grill. This should take 5–8 minutes. Place peppers and
tomatoes in a covered container and allow to cool completely.
Remove stems and seeds from the peppers. Remove the core from
the tomato using a paring knife. Slip the vegetables out of their
charred skins. Place roasted vegetables, cumin, and garlic powder into
the work bowl of your food processor. Pulse until mixture is well incorporated. This process should yield about a cup of homemade Ro*tel.
In a 3-quart sauce pan over medium heat, melt butter and then whisk
in the flour. Allow the flour and butter mixture to cook for about two
minutes (until nutty and fragrant) before whisking in the buttermilk.
After about 2 minutes the mixture will thicken. Add the salt and
cayenne. Add the cheese in batches while stirring the mixture so that
the cheese melts. Once all the cheese is incorporated, add a cup of
the homemade Ro*tel mixture and heat the mixture through.
Place everything back into the food processor and process for 3–4
minutes or until smooth. Pour warm cheese dip into a serving bowl,
garnish with chopped cilantro and diced roasted jalapeño. Serve
warm alongside crunchy corn tortilla chips.
Refrigerate unused portion (as if there will be any left over). Reheat
in the microwave for 90 seconds or in a saucepan over a low flame.
Makes about a 1½ pints.
BEER PAIRING courtesy of Boscos Brewing Co. Growlers available at
827 S Main St. and 2120 Madison Ave. — Pick up a growler of
Boscos Famous Flaming Stone Beer, add a little beer to the
cheese dip then share the rest with your friends while enjoying the
dip. The sweet maltiness of this beer will complement the cheeses
while quenching the spiciness.
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EDIBLE MEMPHIS | WINTER 2012
Q&A
with Nick Rogers
Justin chips away on
the migration of cheese dip
Justin Fox Burks: This whole thing came
about after flipping through my mother’s
cookbooks and finding no less than three
recipes for cheese dip. A lifelong Memphian,
I grew up on the stuff. Pancho’s cheese dip is
the overwhelming favorite around here. No
need for a contest; they would win.
Nick Rogers: Pancho’s actually entered the
WCDC in 2010, its first year. They didn’t win a
prize and didn’t return for 2011, so maybe
they were a bit spooked by our fanaticism
down here. But I’m not surprised that
Memphis is rabid for the place. I tell people
that a favorite cheese dip is like politics or religion — you’re almost certain to stick with
what you were raised with, for the rest of your
life. In Arkansas, where several different towns
had their own recipe in the 40s and 50s, you
can guess where someone grew up by which
dip they name as their favorite in 2011.
JFB: I discovered your passion for cheese dip
when I saw cheese dip listed as one of the 50
best Southern foods in Garden & Gun magazine. I watched your movie, which I loved,
and discovered the NCDC only too late to
attend. I mention both the movie and the
championship in the story, so I’m glad you are
willing to answer a few questions.
I know you get some crazy looks if you order
cheese dip in Seattle, Washington. What
would you say are the cheese dip parameters
geographically? How would you explain the
pockets of cheese-dip ignorance in certain
parts of the country?
NR: It seems that cheese dip was born of
Mexican ingredients and Southern sensibilities. So its “cradle” rocks from the Southwest
to the Delta. In Texas it is called “chili con
queso” (even when containing no meat), and
in Mississippi it goes hand-in-hand with that
state’s famous tamales. Part of the inspiration
for my movie was discovering just how narrow
that band of popularity is. Just five hours
north of Little Rock, I ate at a St. Louis
Mexican restaurant where the staff had no
idea what cheese dip was. So you don’t have
to drive very far for it to start disappearing
from menus.
JFB: It looks to me like the main difference
between Little Rock cheese dip and the
Memphis version is butter. Would you advocate for the use of butter in the dip?
NR: Yeah, we’re actually planning to bring
some kind of regional cook-off to Memphis
and Dallas in the next year or two. The winner
gets free travel and entry into the WCDC in
Little Rock. Stay tuned!
eM
World Cheese Dip Competition
www.cheesedip.net
Click on “how it all began” to watch
In Queso Fever: A Movie About Cheese Dip
NR: I start my own recipe with a butter/flour
roux. It’s mainly for consistency, but butter
flavor improves almost any dish. We’re
Southern, right?
JFB: With Mexico Chiquito and Pancho’s only
150 miles apart in the same state I have my
own theories on how cheese dip migrated
from Central Arkansas to Memphis from the
mid 30s to the mid 50s. How do you think the
good news spread?
NR: I’ve heard several anecdotes of crosscountry road trippers routinely stopping in
central Arkansas for the cheese dip in the
50s and 60s. I guess it spread through wordof-mouth. The first national mention of
cheese dip that I could find was in a
cookbook put together by wives of U.S. Congressmen in the 60s. One of Arkansas’s esteemed legislative spouses shared her
cheese dip recipe for the book, and it was
apparently a hit in Washington social circles.
But the question is something I’ve thought a
lot about in general: How did ANYTHING
spread before the internet?
JFB: Are you looking forward to next year’s
competition? Any plans to try to have one in
Memphis?
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