Dipping Oil
We moved to St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands in the mid-1990s so Marci, who married me halfway through our time there, could carry out her dissertation research. The restaurant we grew to love most was a Greek place, called Zorba’s, of course. But it was different than other Greek restaurants; the food tasted authentic and homemade. It was vibrant and fresh, something that did not always apply to produce on the island. Maybe it was the open windows without screens, curtains blowing in the Caribbean breeze, or the resident cat that wandered in and out as if it owned the place. Really, it was the food.
We were most in love with their bread – hearty and crusty, and studded with seeds. It was the best bread we found on the island and we would occasionally buy loaves to take home, despite its hefty price and our meager paychecks. On each table was a jar of dipping oil; rich olive oil, with spicy chili flakes and dried herbs, I couldn’t get enough of it. It was the first restaurant at which I dipped rather than slathered my bread with butter.
When we returned to Long Island, land of Italian restaurants, after our two-year-long adventure, we noticed dipping oil everywhere. It was more common than we ever realized. I guess as we entered the workforce with a little more money in our pockets we were able to dine out more than when we were students. Sometimes the dipping oil was fragrant with dried herbs and spices, other times it was plain olive oil, high enough quality that it could stand alone, save for a small pinch of salt.
At some point it occurred to me that I could make a dipping oil that rivaled what I was getting in restaurants, available whenever a crusty loaf was at hand. Over the years I tried a myriad of combinations, sometimes overloaded with herbs, other times more spare. At times I put too much in so the flavors of the spices were less distinct. I tried sugar and learned that sweetness did not belong. Oregano was too bitter, as was garlic if allowed to steep too long. I also learned that it is important to know your audience; moderate the red pepper flakes depending on the crowd.
It also occurred to us that dipping oil should never be made just for oneself; it makes an excellent, inexpensive homemade gift. Buy cheap bottles at the dollar store, and all it takes is a jug of olive oil, dried spices, and maybe a ribbon if you want to be fancy. The recipient will be grateful and impressed, especially if you bring them a good crusty loaf like the delicious bread from Zorba’s. Then all you’d need to bottle is the refreshing Caribbean breeze.
Dipping Oil
The ingredients for my dipping oil of the moment are listed below, but you can use any combination of dried herbs and spices that suit you. This is the perfect place for experimentation. The way to go here is low and slow; make sure not to cook it too long or over high heat, so the spices do not scorch. If using garlic, add it only during the last minutes of cooking, or better yet, after you have shut off the flame, lest the garlic cook too much, imparting a bitter flavor. As for the level of spiciness, I add only a pinch of red pepper flakes here. But more would be welcome if your recipients have the tongue for it.
2 cups, about 20 minutes
2 cups good extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp. dried rosemary
½ tsp. dried tarragon
¼ tsp. red pepper flakes
¼ tsp. fresh ground pepper
¼ tsp. kosher salt, plus more for serving
crusty bread for serving
- Place all ingredients in a heavy bottom saucepan. Turn heat to low and heat for about 15 minutes until very warm, stirring occasionally. Make sure herbs and spices do not scorch.
- Allow to cool completely. Store in a glass jar for up to two months.
- Serve in individual dishes with extra salt, if needed and crusty bread.
Thanks Max. I’ve never really thought of making my own dipping pillow I have a hankering for it. And some crusty bread 🥖 😊
Oops. Missed the autocorrect. Not sure how oil becomes pillow.