One of the nicest things about having lifelong friends is having a second set of brains in which to store your memories (in addition to the infinite inside jokes, emotional support through trauma and in-depth knowledge of one another’s childhoods, of course).

I am lucky enough to have a handful of such friends. Many of them I contact daily. We have been by each other’s sides through deaths, divorces, potty training, puberty (yes, both our own and our children’s), and — these days — the total memory loss that appears to accompany age 40 plus.

In fact, our group text is usually a series of memes that mock our moods and memory loss, a smattering of book and podcast recommendations, a handful of jokes that have aged well (or at least, we think so) and a healthy swath of life updates.

And sometimes, one or the other of us will thank someone for a recipe. My friend Elizabeth once asked if I could give her a bran muffin recipe I had written down for her years earlier. For a moment, I was both thrilled and heartbroken. I remembered making those muffins with my grandmother as a child. I had absolutely no memory of having given Elizabeth the recipe or even that I had found a copy of it as an adult.

So no, I didn’t have the recipe. Luckily, one of our other friends, Rowan, did — she had gotten it from Elizabeth, of course, and sent us both a snapshot of her handwritten notes.

And so the cycle continues. A few nights ago, Rowan sent us this message: “Eliz, I made dinner from an old recipe of yours: chicken with artichoke and red pepper. So good.”

Elizabeth promptly responded, “Ohhh. I forgot about that one!”

But if you think I am about to give you a recipe for chicken with artichoke and red pepper, you obviously do not know how my brain works. Because between the time Ro sent the message and the time she followed it up with a photo of the recipe, my brain went down a rabbit hole of artichoke-related memories. (Is that a mixed metaphor? Probably.)

When I was a fresh college graduate, I thought artichoke dip was one of the fanciest dishes a person could make. I’d only ever had it in sit-down restaurants.

So I was pretty shocked to discover that not only were artichoke hearts readily available and inexpensive in grocery stores, but they also had an easy recipe for dip printed on the back of the can. I can remember only two things about that recipe: it had lemon juice in it and it had Parmesan in it.

At that time, I didn’t know Parmesan came in any variety other than the green shaker jar. (What can I say? I am a simple woman with simple cheese needs.) I say that to say that I’m sure I made the original recipe with the jar Parmesan, the type that could withstand an apocalypse, and it was still good. More recently, I made it with the type that will melt. That was also good.

While I was down in the artichoke hole, I tried to find a recipe similar to the one I used to make. I found several that were somewhat similar, but I had to cobble a few together to achieve the flavor I remember. I hope you enjoy it as much as we did. And I hope you’ll give it back to me in a few years when I tell you I’m sure I’ve never made artichoke dip in my life.

ARTICHOKE DIP (HOT OR COLD)

Ingredients
6-8 ounces shredded Parmesan cheese
1 (8 ounce) block cream cheese
1/2 cup sour cream (or 1/4 cup sour cream plus 1/4 cup mayonnaise)
Juice of one lemon (about 3 tablespoons)
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
Two jars or cans of artichoke hearts (drained; reserve the liquid from one of the cans)

Directions
■ Combine all ingredients other than artichoke hearts in the bowl of the food processor. Process until smooth.
■ Add drained artichoke hearts and pulse food processor until hearts are chopped but not pureed. (Add a bit of the reserved juice as needed to keep the consistency where you want it.)
■ For a hot dip: spread in a pie plate or a heat proof casserole dish. Bake at 400 degrees until edges are bubbly, about 20 minutes. Serve with pita chips or tortilla chips. (Or vegetables. I guess. If you must.)

Amelia Plair is a mom and high school teacher in Starkville. Email reaches her at [email protected].

Amelia Plair is a Starkville resident who writes occasional food columns.