Restaurants across Philadelphia have been receiving mysterious shipments of French onion dip. According to one business owner, the tubs arrived at her doorstep with little warning and, apparently, did not even come from the brand itself.
Mac Mart’s Marti Liebermann told reporters the tubs of French onion dip were delivered after an odd exchange with an Australian company over Instagram DMs:
This story is as strange as it is hunger-inducing. Liebermann said she received some shady DMs and knew something was off. After some time passed, bam, 600 tubs of French onion dip arrived on her doorstep.
Of course, she reached out to Helluva Good! to see why they’d do this and, well, they told her it absolutely wasn’t them. They posited that this was from one of their distributors who needed to offload stock.
Apparently, another anonymous restaurant owner reached out to Liebermann to let her know that she also received an outsized shipment of French onion dip. Perhaps someone is targeting female-owned businesses in Philadelphia. Now that I can’t abide.
Is there also a chance this is a false flag to drum up publicity for Mac Mart? Maybe, but Marti seems like a stand-up woman. She wouldn’t do that, I’m sure of it.
Now, I would be remiss if I did not express my disappointment in being excluded from the distinguished list of unsolicited recipients. I understand I’m not a restaurant, but as one of the foremost (albeit inconsistent) food commentators in this fair city, I think I’m worthy of consideration for a tub or two.
I’ve been known to go buck wild on this stuff on occasion, so it would’ve been nice to get some courtesy tubs. My buddy Marcelo brings it through when we get the boys together, and my eyes roll back in my head like Jaws.
Next thing I know, I wake up covered in it, head to toe, with a BAC higher than Craig Kimbrel’s postseason ERA with the Phillies. But, hey, that’s life in the Show.
I’ll never forget my first trip to Mac Mart’s brick-and-mortar location a decade ago. I went down with my sister, who is a few years my junior, to explore the city. It was my first Mac Mart experience, and it was her first time seeing me smoke a cigarette. It’s safe to say both of our horizons expanded that day.
Thank you for the memory, and, if you have a spare tub of the French stuff, let me know. I have a PSA 3-rated Dave Hollins baseball card with your name on it.
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