"Fair point," says Dean, stretching to grab a pair of plates. He dumps a small mountain of barbecue on one and sour cream on the other and slides both to sit between them.

"Since you have to be impartial, I won't tell you whose side I'm on," he says, though he selects a structurally unsound handful of sour cream chips to stuff into his mouth first. He chews, enjoying the salt, and swallows. "Potato chips - fried heaven in a bag."