Dear Readers,
Let us gather ’round the linguistic campfire for a moment and address an issue that has been gnawing at my mind like a raccoon at the last greasy burger wrapper in a midnight dumpster. The word in question—dollop. Yes, dollop. A single, satisfying syllable that rolls off the tongue with the easy grace of a plop of sour cream onto a piping hot plate of nachos. I ask you, dear readers: am I the only one still using this splendid relic of the English language?
To clarify, I’m not talking about those sterile, corporate alternatives like “scoop” or “spoonful.” No, no, those are the linguistic equivalents of wearing a suit to a mud-wrestling match. They lack the whimsy, the reckless abandon, the soul of a true dollop. A dollop is not precise—it is a culinary embrace, a rebellious act of adding just enough without measuring a damn thing. It’s the anti-scientific method, the chef’s wink to the universe.
But here’s the rub: is dollop still socially acceptable? Has it, like so many other gems of the English language, been unceremoniously buried under the avalanche of new-age foodie jargon? You’ve seen these people—they refer to mustard as an “emulsion” and insist that mousse is a lifestyle, not a dessert. Where does a humble dollop fit in amidst this madness?
Now, I’ll admit, I’ve gotten strange looks when I’ve demanded a “dollop of whipped cream” on my pumpkin pie. The barista’s lip twitched when I asked for a “dollop” of foam on my latte. Is it my delivery? Too enthusiastic? Too old-school? Am I the linguistic equivalent of someone showing up to a Tesla rally in a gas-guzzling muscle car with a bumper sticker that reads I brake for cassette tapes?
But let’s not overthink this. Words like dollop are treasures, not fossils. They are survivors—fierce little warriors clinging to relevance in a world obsessed with efficiency and minimalism. Who needs a precise tablespoon of sour cream when you can have a dollop, a happy accident of flavor that smacks of personality?
So I say this to you: don’t let dollop die. Keep it alive. Use it in casual conversation. Shout it from the rooftops if you must. The next time you’re slapping together a taco, demand a dollop of guacamole. When crafting a sundae, refuse anything less than a dollop of hot fudge. Heck, throw the word into non-food situations just to keep people on their toes. “Could you add a dollop of enthusiasm to that presentation, Carl?”
We need words like dollop—words that bring a little joy, a little chaos, and a lot of flavor to our lives. So go forth, my friends, and dollop away. And if anyone questions your vocabulary choices, simply look them dead in the eye and say, “It’s a dollop. Deal with it.”
