Snack Time, Nothing Fancy

I would never use either of those terms. Snacks are not stressful art projects—snacks are breezy, snacks are fun. Snacks are a delicious diversion, a class of foods to mitigate the stress of realizing at 7:30 your dinner won’t be ready for another two hours. You will not find elaborate mini sandwiches for twenty or anything in a blanket (sorry) in this chapter. What you WILL find are easy-ish and extremely delicious and very addicting little somethings to, uh, snack on, while you wait for the main event. Or maybe snacks are the main event, who could say?

This section includes what I consider to be snack essentials (which could also double as my favorite food groups). There are creamy dips, spicy nuts, salted fruits, tangy vegetables, and, of course, so much cheese. There are recipe-recipes and more ideas for things that you can just throw together. There’s even an entire spread predicated on your accepting smoked and tinned fish into your heart, plus a (quick-rising!) focaccia that you (yes, you!) can bake. Tonight. Welcome to my snack party, where there’s no assembly required, toothpicks are optional, and dreams come true.

Among some of my friends, this has become known as “The Dip,” and now I literally cannot attend any social gathering or host any dinner party without someone requesting “The Dip.” When you make it, you’ll know why. It’s my very high-brow version of ranch dressing, and that’s all the intel you need. But if you’d like to know more, there is a scalliony chile oil that gets sizzled with cilantro stems (or chives) and swirled into thick, lemony labne. From there, I’m sure you can assume that the combination of tangy dairy coupled with that herby chile oil already sounds incredible, and maybe you are on your way to making this right now. If you can find green garlic (which tends to be hyper-seasonal and mostly found only at farmers’ markets), use them (or even ramps!) in place of the scallions.

⅓ cup olive oil

4 scallions (or green garlic), white and light green parts, thinly sliced

1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh cilantro (tender leaves and stems) or chives, plus more for garnish

Flaky sea salt

Freshly ground black pepper

2 cups labne, full-fat Greek yogurt, or sour cream

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1 Heat the olive oil, scallions, crushed red pepper flakes, and cilantro in a small pot over medium-low heat. Cook, swirling occasionally, until the scallions and red pepper flakes start to visually and audibly sizzle and frizzle and turn the oil a bright fiery orange. Remove from the heat and let cool enough to taste without burning your mouth, then season with salt and pepper.

2 Combine the labne and lemon juice in a medium bowl and season with salt and pepper. Spoon into a bowl and swirl in the sizzled scallion mixture. Top with extra cilantro, if you like.

DO AHEAD Sizzled scallion oil can be made up to a week ahead, wrapped tightly, and refrigerated. Labne can be seasoned 1 week ahead, wrapped tightly, and refrigerated. Combine the two just before serving.

Here, roasted beets take the place of the roasted red peppers in this romesco-esque dip. (I have a very inflexible “no bell pepper” policy.) But it’s also a concept so versatile that it’s definitely worth exploring with different roasted vegetables. I can give you a head start and tell you that roasted carrots, sweet potatoes, and eggplant are all winners. This version, which is in no way authentically representing romesco (just inspired by it!), doesn’t have any spices added, since I find the raw garlickyness and the sweetness of the beets to be interesting enough; but ground turmeric, ground cumin, and paprika would all work here. Beets always need a bit of tangy fattiness to counter their sweetness, so I swirl in a bit of yogurt or sour cream, but that’s definitely optional if you’re going dairy-free.

1 pound beets or carrots, tops removed and scrubbed, or sweet potatoes

⅓ cup olive oil, plus more for drizzling

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 garlic clove, finely grated

⅓ cup walnuts, hazelnuts, or almonds, toasted (see this page)

2 tablespoons red wine vinegar or white wine vinegar, plus more as needed

½ cup sour cream or full-fat Greek yogurt (optional)

¼ cup fresh dill, coarsely chopped

2 Place the beets in a large baking dish. Drizzle with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Roast until totally and completely fork-tender, 60 to 70 minutes, depending on size. (If you’re doing this with sweet potatoes, they’ll take about the same amount of time; carrots will take less time—40 to 45 minutes.)

3 Remove from the oven and let cool enough so that you can peel them, then cut into smaller chunks.

4 Place the beets, garlic, nuts, olive oil, and the vinegar in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse until you’ve got the texture of your dreams, which is different for all of us. For me, it’s not perfectly smooth but processed enough to spread. If you like chunkier or smoother, then go for it.

5 Once your desired texture is reached, fold in the sour cream, if using. Season with salt, pepper, and more vinegar. Transfer to your cutest bowl, drizzle with more olive oil, and top with dill.

NOTE Traditionally made with roasted red peppers and sometimes tomato, romesco is a tangy, lightly spiced, nutty saucy spread. It’s good as a dip for raw vegetables, but also as a spread for things like “stuff on crackers” and also “stuff on toast”—which, yes, can also mean it’s good on a sandwich, but there are no sandwiches in this book. Sorry.

Everyone needs a “house snack,” meaning a snack that friends can come to expect every time they come over. I have two: parmesan cheese and this dip. The ratio of cream cheese to sour cream changes depending on what I’ve got on hand, and sometimes I add handfuls of herbs or a pinch of crushed red pepper flakes, whatever. The basic idea is something creamy laced with tahini and swirled with a magic mixture made from toasted sesame, dried turmeric, and so much olive oil. My favorite thing to eat it with is a box of Ak-Mak crackers, but anything you like to dip, please dip away.

8 ounces cream cheese or ricotta, preferably room temperature

¾ cup sour cream or labne

¼ cup tahini

2 tablespoons water

Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

¼ cup olive oil

2 tablespoons white sesame seeds

1 teaspoon ground turmeric

Flaky sea salt

1 Combine the cream cheese, sour cream, tahini, and water in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse until well blended and creamy (alternatively, use a fork or spoon; there might just be a few lumps, which is actually fine). Season with salt and pepper.

2 Heat the olive oil and sesame seeds in a small skillet or pot over medium heat. Cook, swirling occasionally, until the sesame seeds are toasted and fragrant, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the turmeric and remove from heat.

3 Transfer the cream cheese mixture to a cute serving bowl and top with the sesame-turmeric oil. Finish with flaky salt and more pepper before serving.

NOTE This is a rare occurence where I prefer whipped cream cheese to unwhipped cream cheese, because it eliminates the need to use a food processor, but both work.

One of my defining character traits is “loves anchovies,” for which I will not apologize. They are meaty, briny, salty, and perfect in every way in nearly any application: in marinades, in salads, in sauces, in stews, and maybe most especially, on their own for snack time. Personal snack, private snack, anywhere in between.

Anchovy fillets come in both jars and tins of varying sizes. Both are great, but in my opinion, unless you’re going to be cooking with or eating the whole tin, a jar is more efficient. (My favorite widely available brands are Ortiz and Cento. They are high enough quality to eat raw, and affordable enough to cook with.) When you open the jar or tin, the anchovies should be pink, firm, and have a good, briny, funky smell (just like good cheese, there is a difference between good funky and bad funky—you’ll know the difference).

I would happily eat anchovies out of a jar or just smeared onto soft, buttered bread or crunchy, garlicky toast, but one of the most fun ways to eat them is in the style of a “Gilda,” a popular Spanish snack in which anchovies are skewered on a toothpick along with spicy pickled peppers or olives or both. Generally, I’m not big on serving things on a toothpick because it makes me feel like I’m catering a wedding, but these snacks are cute and decidedly unfussy to throw together. They’re also the perfect thing to ask your friends to do while you prepare everything else for dinner.

I am going to tell you an annoying story: One day, I was having a perfect afternoon in Sicily, drinking a perfect Aperol spritz and eating perfect olives. (I told you this story was annoying.) I was about to order a perfect gelato, but instead, these perfect little anchovies appeared next to a bowl of perfectly salty potato chips. I assumed they were supposed to be eaten together, otherwise why appear together so kismet-like? Anyway, I’m not sure if they were or not, because I didn’t see anyone else topping chips with anchovies, but that really doesn’t matter because they were perfect together. I promise this story will be at least 80 percent less irritating once you’ve made these for yourself.

1–2 tins or 1 jar of anchovy fillets

¼ cup distilled white vinegar

4 Calabrian chiles, pepperoncini, or guindilla peppers, thinly sliced, or a good pinch of crushed red pepper flakes

Potato chips

1 Open up your tin(s) or jar of anchovies and drain them of the oil. Transfer the anchovies to a cute plate or shallow bowl and cover with the vinegar.

2 Scatter the chiles over the anchovies. The point is to make ’em spicy. Let them sit like this for at least 10 minutes, and up to 1 hour ahead.

3 Eat the anchovies on potato chips, like an American tourist in Italy. Aperol spritzes are optional but recommended.

NOTE The potato chip is an extremely personal thing, and I would never force my very high standards and strict opinions on you (just kidding—yes, I would!), but if you’re asking me, choose something neutral in flavor and sturdy in texture. Kettle or Cape Cod potato chips are both stellar national brands, but I’d never kick a Ruffles or Lay's out of bed, either. The important thing is that they are not crumbled or crushed—you must have a whole potato chip to fully appreciate this experience, no crumbs allowed.

I am a huge fan of the spritz—Aperol spritzes, Campari spritzes, Cappelletti spritzes, white wine spritzes; basically anything that can be spritzed, I’ll spritz it. I prefer to think of the low-ABV spritz as a light, easy refreshment rather than “a cocktail.” This allows me to drink several over the course of many hours without getting unreasonably drunk. Ditching the word cocktail also allows me to use a ratio, not a recipe. (No disrespect to spritz recipes, but let’s just say that in no universe am I busting out a small measuring cup to make a cocktail as casual as this.) Looking and tasting like a fantasy vacation, spritzes are universally appealing and bring joy to everyone who is lucky enough to be drinking one.

There are many ways to make one of these delightfully effervescent beverages, and I don’t think anyone should feel hemmed in by exact measurements or specific ingredients. My most basic version involves a third sweet-bitter liquor (such as Aperol, Campari, Cappelletti, Lillet, or Suze—there are lots out there, so feel free to experiment), a third sparkling or even regular wine (while I don’t encourage the drinking of sub-par wine, this is actually a good time to use a bottle of sub-par wine), and a third soda water (seltzer or club soda). Keep in mind that these ratios will not be the same depending on where you go and who you ask, but this is a good place to start.

TO MAKE
Fill a large glass of your choosing (rocks glass, wineglass, highball glass, anything goes!) with ice. Fill it one third of the way with a sweet-bitter liquor, such as Aperol, Campari, Cappelletti, Lillet, or Suze. From here, top with one third sparkling wine or regular white wine or rosé, and then top the remaining third with soda water. Garnish with a lemon, orange, or grapefruit slice, wedge, or peel. Now go forth and spritz away into the night (or day)!

You know those people at a party who stand by the shrimp cocktail platter and not so secretly eat pretty much the whole platter, hoping nobody notices but also not caring enough to stop? That is 100 percent me at every party. That’s why I’ve decided that I will no longer wait for a holiday or somebody’s birthday so I can eat endless shrimp cocktail. I will throw my own party, for which I will poach my own shrimp and make my own cocktail sauce, and eat half of it myself, probably. There doesn’t need to be an occasion, reason or excuse to do this. Or perhaps you do, and the reason is “I feel like eating a lot of shrimp cocktail tonight,” and that will be good enough.

As for the sauces, I like my cocktail sauce on the spicy, lemony side, but it’s up to you how lemony or spicy your personal cocktail sauce is. I’m also not one of those people who have to have horseradish in their cocktail sauce, but if you feel passionately about this, go on ahead and add it. Aioli is not classically involved in shrimp cocktail, but to me the more dips in any given situation, the better. Mayonnaise doctored with lots of lemon and raw garlic will also do the trick.

FOR THE SAUCE

2 cups Heinz ketchup

¼ cup fresh lemon juice, plus more to taste

3 tablespoons yuzu kosho or harissa paste, plus more to taste

1 tablespoon Worcestershire or Maggi sauce

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Freshly grated or prepared horseradish (if you must)

FOR THE SHRIMP

2–3 pounds large raw, unpeeled shrimp

Kosher salt

1 large onion, quartered

A handful of black peppercorns

3 lemons, 1 halved crosswise and 2 quartered

Olives or cornichons (optional)

Lemony Aioli (recipe follows, optional)

1 Make the sauce. Combine the ketchup, ¼ cup lemon juice, yuzu kosho, and Worcestershire sauce in a medium bowl. Season with salt, pepper, and more lemon juice, if you like. If you’re a real purist, go ahead and add a spoonful or two of horseradish, or simply season with more yuzu kosho. Set aside to serve with the shrimp, or eat shamelessly with a spoon.

2 Prepare the shrimp. Peel but do not devein the shrimp (otherwise they will get all curly when they cook). If the idea of eating undeveined shrimp really, really bothers you, go ahead and devein them, but it’s really not a big deal, I promise!

3 Bring a large pot of highly salted (salty like the sea!) water to a boil and add the onion and peppercorns. Working in batches as needed, lower the shrimp into the pot and cook just until they’re bright pink and opaque, 3 to 4 minutes. Drain or remove using a slotted spoon and transfer to a rimmed baking sheet so they can cool down as quickly as possible. (Should you miraculously have space in your refrigerator, place them in there to chill faster.) Continue to cook the shrimp, as needed.

4 To serve: Squeeze some of the halved lemon over the shrimp. Fill a large bowl with ice and then place shrimp atop with the lemon wedges; there’s no need to arrange them concentrically or anything, just however you think looks nice. If desired, scatter a few olives or tiny cornichons onto the ice as well. Be sure to provide a little dish for tails.

DO AHEAD Cocktail sauce can be made 2 weeks ahead, but honestly if you’re prepping food for a party 2 weeks ahead, you should relax a little!

2 large egg yolks

2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice, plus more as necessary

Kosher salt

½ cup olive oil

½ cup grapeseed or vegetable oil

1 small garlic clove, finely grated (optional)

1 tablespoon finely grated lemon zest (optional)

1 Whisk the egg yolks, lemon juice, and a pinch of salt together in a medium bowl (one that is deeper than it is wide, if possible—it’s easier to emulsify everything together when it’s concentrated in one area). Combine both oils together in a measuring cup with a spout.

2 In a slow, steady stream, add the oil mixture to the egg mixture, 1 tablespoon at a time, whisking all along, making sure whatever you’ve added is completely incorporated before whisking more oil in. Continue with all the oil, thinning with water or lemon juice as needed to keep the future aioli from becoming too thick. (The ideal thickness is extremely personal, but when you know, you know.)

3 Whisk in the garlic and lemon zest, if using, and season with more salt and lemon juice as desired.

Smoked and tinned fish is a thing that I will happily buy because the quality of what you can purchase from places and people who do it expertly is very high. But sure, aside from bringing a whole smoked trout to your friends as a housewarming gift (a thing I have done!), how best to enjoy it?

Well, to properly have what can be described as an excellent Fish Party, there are a few key elements that must be included. It’s a bit of an If You Give a Mouse a Cookie situation in that if you’re going to have a Fish Party…

Then you’ll need to get some fish. Assuming you’re not hopping a plane to Portugal to go grocery shopping, there are plenty of specialty stores with wide selections and chain grocery stores with at least a selection, which counts for something. “Fish” here does also not need to be limited to specifically fish, in that fish eggs like cured salmon or trout roe and tinned shellfish like razor clams and mussels are also welcome to attend this soiree. Experiment with different brands and types until you find the one that speaks to you. (Spicy mackerel with piquillo peppers from Spain! Sardines in olive oil from Italy! Smoked salmon from Manhattan’s Lower East Side!) When it comes to most things, I don’t think that more expensive translates to higher quality, but with tinned and smoked fish, I do believe there is a correlation and it might be a good time to splurge.

And if you have all this fish, you’ll need something to put it on. Large, sturdy crackers are always my choice since they aren’t too bready but can still hold up to a pile o’ fish and can be picked up without collapse. If you are going to do bread, I recommend choosing a seedy, dense rye or something else dense and a little textured, slicing it thin and toasting it well. I know others who like a thick, toasty slice from a boule or baguette, but to me that is more “Toast with Fish,” and this is not that, so…

And if you have salty, fatty fish on a cracker, you’ll need something tangy, spicy, or both to cut through that salty fattiness. This list can get kind of long, so I’ll give you my greatest hits: Thinly sliced raw onion for its savory punchiness, pickled pearl onions and cornichons for tang. Caper berries for their delightfully textured seedy insides and clean brininess. Fresh herbs, specifically dill, chives, and parsley. Calabrian chiles or pickled peppers like guindillas or peperoncini for that heat I know you want.

And if you have all that freshness and tanginess, you’ll need something creamy and rich to balance it all out. Softened butter with flaky salt, bowls of sour cream or labne seasoned with lemon, and/or (preferably and) garlicky aioli or mayonnaise would all be great. The yolks of good jammy eggs, while not technically a spoonable situation like the others, would also do a good job of providing luscious sauciness, and so I often set out a few halved soft- or medium-boiled eggs for topping or nibbling alongside.

Smashing eggs onto crackers might seem like a thing you’d make for breakfast, and you’re not wrong—I eat that for breakfast a lot. But when the eggs (specifically, just cooked, jammy eggs) are dressed up with something creamy, lots of herbs, and whatever cured, tinned, or smoked fish you may have on hand (you have all of that on hand, right?), and maybe some pickles or caper berries, it’s also a really great pre-dinner, cocktail hour, or maybe we’re-having-snacks-for-dinner meal.

6–12 large eggs

Lemony Aioli (this page), mayonnaise, full-fat Greek yogurt, crème fraîche, or sour cream

Crackers or well-toasted toast

Finely chopped fresh chives

Coarsely chopped fresh dill

Coarsely chopped fresh parsley

Flaky sea salt and coarsely ground black pepper

Smoked trout or salmon, or other tinned, smoked, or cured fish

Caper berries and/or cornichons, halved

1 lemon, quartered, for serving

1 Bring a medium pot of water to a boil. Gently lower the eggs into the pot and boil for 6 minutes. SIX MINUTES. Not a minute more, not a minute less.

2 Transfer the eggs to a bowl and run cold water over them. The nice thing about this 6-minute cook time is that it allows for a bit of carryover, so that if you don’t have an ice bath (I never do), the yolks will still be perfectly jammy with just the right amount of runniness. If you’re worried, know that here it is better to have the eggs slightly over than under to avoid a huge yolk-y mess on your hands.

3 Peel the eggs, put them in a festive dish or bowl, and set them on a table with all the remaining ingredients, which are accoutrements for personalized smashing and assembly. It’s fairly intuitive, but if anyone needs guidance, you can direct them thus:

“If you want aioli, sour cream, mayonnaise, or whatever, spread a bit of that onto your cracker or toast of choice. Then, split an egg with a knife or use a fork and smash it onto the cracker. Top with any combination of fish, chives, dill, parsley, flaky salt, pepper, caper berries, and/or cornichons. Here are lemon wedges for squeezing over. Please enjoy.”

NOTE This is the kind of snack I would rather not assemble for someone else. Not to be rude, but if you’re coming over, I am already doing a lot of work and I don’t feel like I need to assemble a cracker for you. I put all the stuff out so nicely! Isn’t that enough? But if you are a more generous and kind host than I am, feel free.

You don’t need me to tell you that buttered toast is good, but maybe you need me to tell you that buttered toast with tiny, smoky, salty beads of trout roe is magnificent. To me, trout roe is like a more flavorful, prettier caviar. It isn’t the cheapest thing in this book, but the lesson here is that you can pull out exactly one stop and people will be impressed (that stop is, of course, the trout roe). This is the type of snack you can certainly assemble for others, but I prefer to simply set everything out and let people make their own little toasts.

Good bread, preferably rye, sliced about ⅛–¼ inch thick, toasted

Plenty of good-quality salted or unsalted butter, softened

Flaky sea salt and coarsely cracked black pepper

1 (2-ounce) jar trout or salmon roe (smoked or unsmoked)

Coarsely chopped fresh chives, parsley and/or dill, tender leaves and stems

Lemon, for zesting

1 Slather the bread with some of the butter. If there was ever a time to use the phrase “Don’t be shy,” this would be it. Don’t be shy with the butter! Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

2 Delicately and confidently spoon the roe onto the bread. Scatter with the herbs, add lemon zest, and serve.

As anyone who has ever thrown or attended any sort of party or gathering knows, the most important thing is not the wine, what you’ve decided to wear, or the playlist you spent hours preparing. It’s the cheese. Even more important than dip, a solid cheese presence will soften the awkward conversation that happens when the only two people who don’t know each other get to the party first. It will nourish the bodies of every person who arrives with an empty stomach, and if they are my friends, that will be every person you invited. It will feed the party long into the evening when everything takes longer to cook than you thought it would. A good cheese plate will buy you time when you need it, and for that, it is truly invaluable.

The cheese plate is not a contest to see how many different types of cheese you can find. In my opinion, it’s better to have a larger quantity of three very different, very good cheeses (i.e., one firm and salty, another semi-soft and peppery, the other soft and creamy) rather than smaller quantities of many mediocre varieties. I prefer crackers to bread or toast, but having both on hand is not a bad idea.

When it comes to presentation, my only word of advice is: Please relax. Unless you’re styling a mail-order catalog for monogrammed plaid picnic sets, you can skip the fanned slices and adorably bunched grapes. In fact, if you want to skip the preslicing altogether, setting out a small knife (or small spoon, should you be blessed with a creamy enough cheese) for each cheese is a good idea. As for what to serve it on, you don’t need to source a reclaimed slab of plywood or dig out the perfect slate from a nearby quarry—a large cutting board, regular platter, or even plastic serving tray are all wonderful options.

For smaller gatherings (two to six people), I love to pick one kind of cheese and really lean into it, such as placing a hunk of very good parmesan on a plate, sticking a knife into it, and urging friends to break off little nibbles for themselves. If anyone seems confused or complains about this, tell them, “That’s how they do it in Italy,” even if that’s only partly true.

If you want to do more of a “composed cheese” vibe, a nice thing to do is slice thin pieces of a firm, salty cheese and layer them with thinly sliced vegetables tossed in vinegar or lemon juice, or with spicy, jammy fruit, or a with a drizzle of something like maple syrup. Drizzle everything with olive oil and give it a sprinkle of something like black pepper, sumac, or crushed red pepper flakes. Some nice combos to get you started are parmesan (king of cheese) and radishes tossed in vinegar, sliced or crumbled Gouda (queen of cheese) drizzled with maple syrup or honey and an extremely good dose of crushed black pepper, or slices of a salty, semi-soft sheep’s-milk cheese (also cheese royalty) served with fresh apricots that have been crushed with a bit of sugar and fresh or dried chili.

This one goes out to the cheese guy at Sahadi’s, my favorite grocery store in all of Brooklyn. He knows everything about all the cheeses but seems to have a special fondness for the vast feta selection. All these giant glistening white cubes of cheese sitting in a jar of brine, ready to be cut for you to order behind his little cheese counter, which is just so charmingly old-school it almost makes me forget that things like the internet exist.

My guy will explain to you that he loves to experiment with different marinades for his feta, which he occasionally sells. I find all of them delightfully delicious, but my favorite one has a million different red pepper flakes in it along with the harissa and sun-dried tomatoes. This is my tribute, using fewer ingredients and fresh tomatoes instead of dried for extra sauciness.

You can eat this cheese spooned onto crackers, picked up with a small fork, and so on. Spread onto toast, it doesn’t not taste like pizza, just saying.

½ cup olive oil, plus more as needed

2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced

2 small-ish (or 1 medium) ripe tomatoes (4 to 6 ounces total), coarsely chopped

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 tablespoons harissa paste, or ½ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

1 tablespoon distilled white vinegar

8 ounces feta cheese, sliced into ¼-inch slabs or ½-inch cubes

1 Heat the olive oil in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook, swirling the skillet occasionally, until the garlic is tender and nearly golden brown, 2 to 3 minutes.

2 Add the tomatoes and season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until they’ve broken down into a thick, chunky sauce, 5 to 8 minutes.

3 Add the harissa and continue to cook until the sauce is a bit more paste-like, another 3 to 5 minutes. Remove from the heat, then add the vinegar and season with salt and pepper. Add more olive oil until it becomes savory and spoonable.

4 Place the feta in a serving dish or bowl and pour the tomato mixture over. Let sit at least 10 minutes, or up to a week in advance, refrigerated. Drizzle with more olive oil before serving.

DO AHEAD Feta can be marinated up to 1 week ahead, tightly wrapped, and refrigerated.

Think of this as the opposite of fondue, wherein the objective isn’t to melt the cheese but, rather, to brown it, crisping it while caramelizing the milk solids, which gives it a “cheese that stuck to the side of the pan when making a grilled cheese” effect. Coupled with some sweet honey and salty, crunchy pistachios, well, this is what one might call “a real crowd pleaser.”

While it’s great even at room temperature, this is one of the few fussy-ish things in this chapter that’s best eaten warm and preferably, right off the pan.

8 ounces haloumi or queso fresco, sliced into ½-inch slabs

2 tablespoons honey

2 tablespoons finely chopped toasted pistachios (see this page)

Flaky sea salt

1 Heat a well-seasoned cast-iron or nonstick skillet over medium-high heat (you don’t need oil). Working with a few batches at a time, sear the cheese on one side until it’s golden brown (it won’t melt, just brown), almost like you’re searing a steak, 3 to 5 minutes. Flip and repeat on the other side. Remove and place on a plate. Continue with the remaining cheese.

2 Drizzle the cheese with the honey and sprinkle with the pistachios and flaky salt. This doesn’t have to be served warm, but at the very least, cut yourself a piece before serving it to others—you know, just to try. To me, this is very much a food to be eaten with hands, but if you want to use toothpicks or small forks, that is okay, too.

½ cup olive oil

2 sprigs fresh oregano

1 lemon, thinly sliced, seeds removed

1 shallot, thinly sliced

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 (14-ounce) cans artichoke hearts in water, drained, halved or quartered

2 tablespoons white wine vinegar

½ cup fresh mint or parsley leaves

1 Heat the olive oil, oregano, lemon slices, and shallot in a medium skillet over medium heat. Cook, swirling occasionally, until the shallot and lemon start to sizzle and brown a bit, 4 to 6 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and remove from heat.

2 Place the artichoke hearts in a medium bowl and pour the oil mixture on top, followed by the vinegar. Season again with salt and pepper and let sit at least 30 minutes.

3 Just before serving, transfer to a serving dish or bowl and scatter with the mint.

DO AHEAD Artichoke hearts can be marinated for up to 2 weeks ahead (without the herbs), tightly sealed, and stored in the refrigerator.

NOTE I rarely prefer things from a can or a jar when they can be found fresh, but there are a few exceptions, like chickpeas and artichoke hearts. Fresh artichokes are genuinely a true gift, but trimming and turning a raw artichoke to get to the heart is not what I’d call an easy process. The good news is that you can buy them in a jar or can, and they are very good!

I love a good, creamy goat cheese. You know who else loves it? Probably everyone you know. Is creamy goat cheese “cool?” No, but I can’t be bothered to care. Make your friends admit they like it again by crumbling it into a cute dish, drizzling it with a lemony sesame seed mixture and sprinkling it with lots of sumac. They will ask, “Is this from the newest casual Mediterranean small plates hotspot?” and you’ll reply, “Yes, it’s called chèvre.”

2 tablespoons white sesame seeds

½ cup olive oil, plus more for drizzling

½ lemon (peel, pith, and all), seeds removed, finely chopped

2 teaspoons ground sumac, plus more for serving

1 tablespoon fresh thyme, chopped, plus more for serving

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

8 ounces fresh goat cheese, coarsely crumbled

Crackers or toast, for serving

1 Toast the sesame seeds in a small skillet over medium heat until golden brown and smelling like toasted sesame, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the olive oil, lemon, sumac, and thyme, swirling to get everything submerged in the oil. Season with salt and pepper and let gently simmer a minute or two for maximum infusion. Remove from heat and let sit another minute or two.

2 Place the goat cheese in a small dish, glass jar, or other container. Pour the olive oil mixture over and let sit at least 10 minutes, drizzling with more olive oil as needed to kind of submerge slightly (the oil is part of the eating experience and should be spooned onto the cracker or toast as well).

3 To serve, finish with a bit more fresh thyme and a sprinkle of sumac and set out with crackers or slices of toast.

DO AHEAD Goat cheese can be marinated up to a week ahead, wrapped tightly, and refrigerated.

My earliest memory of what I now know as “crudités” is the platter of vegetables my grandma would put out for company on holidays. She would pull out every stop imaginable, spending what felt like hours on each vegetable, carving the radishes into tulips, making crookneck squash into geese by placing toothpicks under the bulb to act as legs and sticking black peppercorns into the top to make eyes (creepy, in retrospect), trimming away 80 percent of a carrot to make an extra-perfect carrot spear. She’d fawn over each cucumber, carefully pruning each cauliflower floret (always the last vegetable left on the platter), like she was angling for a Michelin star.

To me, that is a crudité. (Funny enough, after all that fuss, she’d just squirt a bottle of Hidden Valley ranch dressing into a bowl for the dip part.) So, unless you’re carving a wooden ship out of a head of broccoli, please, don’t call it a crudité. Yes, I know the word literally translates to “raw,” and technically, any plate of raw vegetables can be called crudités, but I feel like that word is just so “extra.” It’s like, Oh, is this a “crudité”? A word that feels so fancy you can hardly stand it? Maybe we can leave that word out of it and simply call it a thoughtfully arranged platter of vegetables.

All that said, I am such a huge fan of setting out a thoughtfully arranged platter of vegetables to snack on when I have people over that I would be remiss not to mention it in this book. In my version, there is no theatrical carving or relentless peeling. There might be the occasional blanch or boil for things like asparagus and tiny potatoes (another reason the word crudité does not fly here), but more often than not, it’s just a casual slice or chunk of whatever I am feeling at the moment (nearly always cucumbers, radishes of all sorts and sizes, and sweet, skinny carrots). There are certain No Fly Zone items for me, which include bell peppers (any color) and raw button mushrooms, but to each their own.

I go back and forth between wanting to season my vegetables with lemon and salt and leaving them raw, in their unadorned, natural state. If the vegetables are going to be out for a while, I won’t season them (as they sit with the lemon and salt, they become weepy and wilty), but if it’s a smaller crowd and I can monitor the situation, then I’ll give them a squeeze of lemon and a sprinkle of salt, maybe something like sumac or crushed red pepper flakes as well. This move is good but not a necessity.

As for accompaniments, it is truly up to you. Aside from the obvious, which is that there must be at least one dip (any of the ones from beginning on this page would be excellent), you can get as elaborate or not as you’d like (TWO dips!!). Flavored salts are also a nice touch, as are pieces of crispy ham (this page).

These butter beans are just as much a snack as a side for me; I love them as part of a larger spread (perhaps with lamb, like on this page), alongside raw vegetables (this page), Tangy Roasted Mushrooms (this page), and/or all the cheeses. Technically, any bean will work here, but for snacking purposes, the larger the better because trying to elegantly eat an individual cannellini bean would be nearly impossible. (On that note, they really are best eaten with toothpicks, because it’s both cute and practical, two of my favorite qualifiers.)

⅓ cup olive oil

2 (15-ounce) cans butter, lima, or gigante beans, drained and rinsed

1 small garlic clove, finely grated

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

½ cup red wine vinegar or white wine vinegar

Freshly grated lemon zest

1 Heat the olive oil in a small pot over medium heat. Add the beans and garlic and season with salt and pepper.

2 Cook a minute or two, just to warm them through and remove the I-just-came-from-a-can flavor.

3 Remove from the heat and add the vinegar, swirling to combine. Let sit at least 30 minutes.

4 Transfer the bean mixture to a small bowl or serving dish (if you want to drain them, that is okay too, but I like to serve them in their marinade) and finish with more black pepper and lemon zest.

DO AHEAD Beans can be marinated up to 2 weeks ahead, covered, and refrigerated. Bring them to room temperature before serving.

I know, I said nothing fancy! But these olives deserve the title. Great straight from the briny bath they came from, Castelvetrano olives are delicious as is, but warming them in a bit of citrusy olive oil with some whole chiles makes them, well, better (and kind of fancy).

Like most other things in this chapter, they can be customized to your liking, so go wild! Mix your olives! Add smashed garlic or chopped rosemary! Up the citrus! The moral of the story here is that your already good olives should be gently simmered in a flavorful olive oil to warm through and mellow their briny flavor, making them truly excellent.

1 lemon

1 orange

½ cup olive oil

4 whole chiles de arbol, or ½ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

Peel of 1 grapefruit

1 pound unpitted Castelvetrano olives

1 Halve and thinly slice one half of each lemon and orange, saving the other halves for juicing.

2 Warm the olive oil in a small pot over medium heat. Add the chiles, lemon and orange slices, and grapefruit peel. Let sizzle a minute or two, then add the olives.

3 Reduce the heat to the lowest possible setting and let the olives hang out here for anywhere from 10 minutes to 1 hour, stirring every so often. (If your stove’s burner is one of those that never quite gets that low, then you might want to max them out around 30 minutes.)

4 Let the olives cool to room temperature in the pot and then squeeze in the lemon and orange juice from the remaining halves. Serve with citrus peels and all, making sure you have a little dish for the olive pits.

DO AHEAD Olives can be marinated up to a month in advance, covered, and refrigerated. Gently rewarm them before serving.

NOTE I find the unpitted olives to be of a better quality than the pitted variety, but use what you can find.

Know that these are not pickled mushrooms; rather, they are deeply roasted mushrooms that are doused in vinegar and left to marinate. The main difference for me is the texture. If you’ve ever had a mushroom from the giardiniera jar, you may have found that texture a bit slimy and squeaky, but these are not those mushrooms. These mushrooms get roasted so their mushroomy flavor concentrates and the texture changes from soft and slimy to firm and meaty. From there, they get covered in a mild vinegar bath to marinate, rather than pickle. You can go all in with one type of mushroom, sure, but I like to mix it up for varying textures, flavors, and price points because, damn, mushrooms can be expensive.

2 pounds fresh mushrooms, such as maitake, oyster, or trumpet, sliced, cut, or torn into large, bite-sized pieces

¼ cup olive oil, plus more for drizzling

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 small white onion or shallot, thinly sliced into rings

¼ cup white wine vinegar

Fresh herbs, such as parsley, chives, or cilantro, tender leaves and stems, finely chopped (optional)

2 Toss the mushrooms with the olive oil in a large cast-iron skillet, on a rimmed baking sheet, or in a large baking dish. Season with salt and pepper, and roast, tossing occasionally (to help steam escape and promote even cooking) till browned and crisped, 20 to 25 minutes.

3 Remove from the oven and place in a medium bowl. Add the onion and vinegar, tossing to coat. Let sit at least 20 minutes before transferring to a serving bowl or plate. Drizzle with more olive oil and finish with a handful of fresh herbs, if you like.

DO AHEAD Mushrooms can be marinated up to 5 days ahead, covered, and refrigerated. Add the herbs just before serving, if using.

NOTE This recipe also works well with eggplant. To do this, cut an eggplant into ½-inch-thick slices and roast as you would the mushrooms, cooking until the slices are completely tender and nicely browned, 25 to 30 minutes. Proceed with the recipe.

I used to think martinis were extremely and exclusively fancy. If you have felt this way, too, you may be asking yourself, “What is this very fancy drink doing in a book that advertises advice to the contrary?” Well, I no longer think of martinis as being extremely and exclusively fancy. Isn’t that great news?

There’s more great news, least of which involves you getting to drink a martini in the comfort of your own home. Just like a spritz, a martini does not require any experience in cocktail making, simply the combining of two to three ingredients in a ratio even I can remember.

Since making individual 'tinis for everyone who walks through the door is not on my agenda for any evening, I like to make one giant batch, and since shaking a giant batch of martinis is absolutely out of the question, I prefer them stirred. I’ve mixed my giant martini (or many regular-sized martinis) in everything from a flower vase to a Chemex coffeepot to those extremely useful IKEA water carafes to a cool jug I got a flea market and swore I’d find a use for one day. (This! This is the use!)

To make sure they’re as cold and diluted as possible (both essential qualities), I serve my martinis over ice, which of course is in no way customary or probably even allowed, but it’s how I do it. My house, my rules! When guests arrive, offer them your selection of beverages, including a martini. When they say, “Wow, yes, I would love a martini,” smile and point them in the direction of the well-curated martini bar and say “All you, baby!”

TO MAKE (for 6 to 10 people)
For a batch of classic martinis, combine 2½ cups/20 ounces gin (that is my preference, but use vodka if you like) with 2½ cups/20 ounces dry vermouth and 1 cup/8 ounces of water in a vessel large enough to hold it all. I’d say this serves 6 to 10 since sometimes it’s a one-martini night and sometimes it’s a three-martini night, and, well, wouldn’t you rather have some leftover than not enough? (PSA: Store any leftover mix in a glass jar in the freezer; it will keep indefinitely.)

Set out the jug o’ martinis next to a bowl of ice and any garnish you desire. Martini olives are classique (add brine to the cocktail to make it dirty), or use a pearl onion instead to make it a Gibson. Lemon peels are nice for those classy folks wanting theirs “with a twist.” Things like tiny forks, cute spoons, and toothpicks are a nice touch but not necessary. (The DIY Martini Bar is why I own 83 very cute tiny forks.)

It may sound silly to ask you to toss peppers with a paste made from peppers, but when the peppers in question aren’t necessarily spicy, don’t you miss the heat, just a little? Well, I definitely do, so I’m bringing them back from whence they came: peppers on peppers, if you will. The first peppers in question are tiny little shishito, which, sure, can be spicy, but not always.

The second pepper is more of a chile and comes in the form of yuzu kosho, a Japanese chile paste made from fermented green chiles and the rind of the yuzu fruit. It’s bright, salty, citrusy, spicy, and extremely flavorful, so a little goes a long way. While I wouldn’t call it “super accessible” just yet, it is becoming increasingly more available at many of the larger grocery stores (or you can always buy it online).

The tiny peppers are blistered in a skillet or grilled to get them all charred and tender, after which you toss them in a large bowl with some yuzu kosho, fresh lime juice, and lots of flaky salt for a very addictive snack.

1 pound shishito peppers

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon yuzu kosho

Flaky sea salt

1–2 limes, halved

1 Toss the shishitos with the oil in a large serving or mixing bowl and season with salt and pepper.

2 Heat a large skillet over high heat until it’s extremely hot. Working in batches, if needed, add the peppers and toss occasionally until tender and well charred all over, 2 to 4 minutes. (Alternatively grill the peppers over a hot grill until well charred and blistered, 2 to 4 minutes.)

3 Return the peppers to the bowl and add the yuzu kosho and a healthy pinch of flaky salt. Squeeze the lime over everything, toss to coat and evenly distribute the yuzu kosho, and serve.

The word “breadstick” can mean many different things to many different people, but in case there is any confusion, these are not the soft, bready Olive Garden-y breadsticks. Rather, they are the long, skinny, crunchy, snappy breadsticks. The shape may look intimidating to pull off, but I promise that you do not need to apprentice with an Italian grandmother to get these right. This dough is extremely forgiving and easy to work with; you basically look at it and it turns into a breadstick.

If you’ve ever turned balls of Play-Doh into thin ropes so you can coil them and make mini beehives, you can transform this dough into long, elegant breadsticks. The trick is to roll each rope to the same even thickness; otherwise, you get parts of the breadstick that bake faster than other parts, which means uneven breadstick texture (some parts thin and crisp, some parts puffier and soft—not ideal!).

For an even better, deeper flavor, I like to add a bit of an alternative flour (i.e., rye, buckwheat, spelt, or whole wheat). You’ll see that even ¼ cup makes a big difference, but if you’d rather not deal with adding another ingredient, I get that; regular all-purpose flour will work just fine. The cheese, however, is a must. I’m sure you understand.

2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for the work surface

¼ cup whole wheat, rye, spelt, or buckwheat flour (or more all-purpose)

1 teaspoon active dry yeast

1 teaspoon kosher salt

⅓ cup white and/or black sesame seeds

¼ cup poppy seeds

1 cup finely grated parmesan, plus more for finishing

¾ cup warm-ish water

2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for bowl

Flaky sea salt

1 Whisk the flours, yeast, and kosher salt in a large bowl to combine. Add the sesame and poppy seeds and the parmesan. Make a well in the center, and drizzle in the lukewarm water, followed by the olive oil. Using a wooden spoon (or your hands), mix until no dry spots remain and the dough still feels a bit sticky, 1 to 2 minutes.

2 Transfer the dough to a well-oiled bowl and cover tightly with plastic. Let rest at room temperature until not quite but nearly doubled in size, 60 to 90 minutes, depending on the temperature of your kitchen.

4 Line two baking sheets with parchment. Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured surface and, using the palms of your hands, flatten into a rectangle roughly 8 by 4 inches. Using a pastry scraper, bench scraper, or sharp knife, cut the dough vertically into strips about ¼ inch thick (you’ll get 40 to 50 strips).

5 Cover the rest of the dough with a lightly damp kitchen or paper towel while you form the breadsticks (if the dough gets dry, it will be hard to roll out). Roll each piece of dough onto an unfloured work surface (cutting board or countertop) until you’ve got a long, skinny breadstick-shaped piece of dough. (They will puff slightly as they rest and once they bake, so go skinnier than you think—they should be thinner than a pencil.)

6 Place each strip of dough on the baking sheets, spaced ½ inch apart (they don’t spread much) until you’ve filled the baking sheets. Brush or drizzle the dough with some olive oil and sprinkle with flaky salt and a showering of additional parmesan.

7 Bake, rotating the sheets once, until the breadsticks are golden brown and baked through, 8 to 10 minutes (if there are some that are thinner than others and baking quicker, feel free to pluck them from the baking sheet and continue to bake those that need it).

DO AHEAD Breadstick dough can be made up to 2 days ahead, wrapped tightly, and refrigerated. Breadsticks can be baked up to 2 days ahead, kept on their baking sheets (so they don’t break), wrapped tightly with plastic, and stored at room temperature.

I have a lot of strengths, but “planning ahead” is absolutely not one of them. The idea that I’d make a bread dough and leave it to proof overnight so that it can develop flavor and structure to bake the next evening is a really great idea, and something that I have done before. But a more likely scenario is that around 3 p.m. the day I’m planning on having people over, I think Wouldn’t it be nice to have fresh focaccia with dinner tonight? Yes, it would be!

And so, because I am the master of my own destiny, I spent some time cheating the system and disgracing professional bakers everywhere, developing a focaccia that can be made in just a few hours. Does it use freshly milled grains and a naturally fermented 58-year-old starter? No. Is it fluffy and light and oily and crispy and tender and chewy? Absolutely. If you do have the time, it will of course benefit from an overnight rest in the refrigerator, but if you don’t have the time, just know that you will still have something truly excellent.

I like this focaccia on the simple side, with a ridiculous amount of olive oil, lots of flaky salt, and thin slices of red onion that get all caramelized and crisped, but you could absolutely get creative, topping it with chopped herbs, chopped garlic, a sprinkle of sesame seeds, anchovies (!!), thin slices of ripe tomato…the list goes on. Just know that there is a fine line between focaccia and pizza, so don’t overdo it with the topping (unless, of course, you’re looking for pizza, in which case, check out this page).

1 (¼-ounce) packet instant dry yeast or 2¼ teaspoons

2 teaspoons honey

2 tablespoons olive oil, plus lots more for coating the bowl and pan

2 cups warm-ish water

5 cups bread flour (all-purpose flour will also do the trick here, although the dough might be slightly less elastic), plus more for the work surface

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 small red onion, thinly sliced into rings (about ⅛ inch thick)

Flaky sea salt

1 Whisk the yeast, honey, 2 tablespoons olive oil, and water in a large bowl. Add the flour and, using a wooden spoon, mix to casually blend (it will still be a craggy mess; that’s fine). Add the kosher salt and continue to mix until it goes from craggy to kind of wet and shaggy (the dough is going to be too wet and sticky to knead at this stage, so don’t worry about getting it nice and smooth yet). Cover tightly with plastic wrap and let sit in a warm spot until it doubles in size, about an hour or so.

2 Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and, using the palm of one hand, press into the dough, turning and folding it onto itself (a.k.a. kneading) a few times (the dough will still be sticky but much more manageable) until it comes together and starts looking smooth and elastic. Feel free to dust with flour occasionally but not too much.

3 Once the dough is looking nice and smooth, drizzle a bit of olive oil into that same bowl to grease it up and put dough back. Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap and let sit in a warm spot until it doubles in size again, another 45 to 60 minutes.

4 Pour enough olive oil onto a rimmed baking sheet (approximately 12¾ by 17¾ inches) to generously coat the entire sheet. Using your hands, spread it all around. Turn the dough onto the baking sheet and again using your hands, coax the dough into a flat, even layer. (It doesn’t need to stretch to the exact size of the sheet pan; it’ll puff up and fill in as it proofs and bakes.) Drizzle the top with lots more olive oil and lightly drape a piece of plastic over for its final nap, letting it rest in a warm spot for another 45 to 60 minutes.

6 To know when the dough is ready to bake, it should look light, puffy, and buoyant. To test this, use your fingertips to press the dough lightly. It should bounce back ever so slightly. (If it sinks and deflates, well, you’ve overproofed the dough and it might never recover. But let’s not assume the worst. Even then, you’ll still have something edible; just call it flatbread.) Using the tips of your fingers to lightly dimple the surface, kind of like you’re playing the piano, scatter the top with the onion rings and drizzle again with, yes, more olive oil, and sprinkle with flaky salt. Bake, rotating if needed to avoid hot spots, until the bread is deeply golden brown and the onion rings are caramelized and cooked through, 35 to 45 minutes.

DO AHEAD The dough can be made 1 day ahead. Just wrap tightly after step 3 and refrigerate.

Garlic bread is one of life’s finest, simplest pleasures, up there with a roast chicken and a perfect salad with lemon. It’s basic and should not be overthought. But do not treat it or mistake this as garlic butter on toast—or worse, soggy bread soaked in garlic butter—garlic bread is neither.

The secret is treating it like french toast in the sense that you really, truly do need to soak the hell out of it, ensuring that the edges get golden brown and crisped while the center stays soft and tender.

Yes, the anchovies are a secret weapon, but the garlic cloves, slowly softening and caramelizing in the oil, are the real hero. Don’t worry about getting the cloves too broken up—a few pieces here and there are a welcome addition.

1 head of garlic, cloves separated, peeled, and smashed with the back of a knife

½ cup olive oil

1 (2-ounce) tin anchovies (or half of a 4-ounce jar), drained

½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened

Pinch of crushed red pepper flakes (optional)

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 or 2 baguettes, halved lengthwise

Flaky sea salt

Finely chopped fresh parsley (optional)

2 Heat the garlic and oil in a small pot over medium heat. Cook until the garlic has started to audibly sizzle, about 3 minutes. Reduce the heat to the lowest possible setting and continue to cook until the garlic is totally tender and golden brown, 15 to 20 minutes. Add the anchovies and remove from heat.

3 Transfer the oil mixture to a medium bowl along with the butter and red pepper flakes. Using a fork, smash everything together so that the garlic cloves break down and everything turns into a delicious, creamy paste. Season with salt and pepper. Using a spoon, evenly distribute this deliciousness onto each half of the bread, letting it really soak in there.

4 Place the bread on a rimmed baking sheet and bake until the edges are golden brown, with soft and supple centers (the only time I’ll use the word supple), 8 to 10 minutes. Remove from oven and sprinkle with flaky salt and parsley, if using.

DO AHEAD Garlic butter can be made 1 week ahead, wrapped tightly, and stored in the refrigerator. Bring to room temperature before smearing onto the bread.

NOTE This butter mixture makes enough for 1 or 2 baguettes, depending on the baguette, but start with one and either way you’ll have some leftover—because to run out of garlic butter would be a true crime.

Popcorn is one of my all-time favorite snacks, but I file it under the “personal snack” category, as in, “I am not going to eat popcorn in front of other people.” It’s a real mess, every time, which is fine when you’re alone on the couch or in a very dark movie theater, where nobody can witness you shoveling tiny kernels of popped corn into your mouth, missing a few every time, crumbs absolutely everywhere. But in front of company? I would never.

That said, I do think that the larger corn nuts, a.k.a. “quicos,” are a great approximation with at least 85 percent less mess, and you can dress them up however you want. While they come already oiled and salted, I enjoy gussying them up even further and treating them like I treat my popcorn—with lots of nutritional yeast, Aleppo-style pepper, and more salt. They are wildly addictive and will probably upstage anything else you serve, so be prepared.

4 cups large corn nuts (“quicos”)

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 tablespoons Aleppo-style pepper or Korean pepper flakes

⅓ cup nutritional yeast

2 On a rimmed baking sheet, toss the corn nuts with the oil and season with the salt and pepper. Roast, tossing occasionally, until corn is smelling toasted and is a deeper shade of golden brown, 10 to 12 minutes.

3 Remove from the oven and immediately transfer the corn nuts to a large bowl. Add the Aleppo-style pepper and nutritional yeast, and toss to coat.

DO AHEAD Crunchy corn can be made up to 5 days ahead, stored in a tight-fitting plastic container or glass jar.

These slightly sticky walnuts are better than anything you can find in the bulk bins at Whole Foods, I promise. Not as sweet as you’d think, given all that maple syrup (which coats the nuts as they roast, leaving you with some deliciously mapley, crystallized sugar), they also happen to be extra nutty thanks to tahini and a sprinkling of sesame seeds. As if that weren’t exciting enough, they’re also tangy from the sumac and delightfully salty from flaky salt. Kind of the perfect one-stop-shop, highly addictive, very snackable nut.

I will also mention that they are extremely low maintenance and easy to make. Basically, you toss a bunch of stuff together on a baking sheet and bake. No stovetop stirring, no candy thermometers, no fussiness. Nothing fancy!

You can definitely mix up the nuts here (pecans would be nice), but walnuts are always the first to go, so why not cut to the chase and give the people what they want?

4 cups raw walnuts pieces (about 12 ounces)

⅓ cup pure maple syrup

¼ cup tahini

¼ cup raw white sesame seeds

2 tablespoons olive oil

Pinch of cayenne or crushed red pepper flakes

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon ground sumac

Flaky sea salt, such as Maldon

1 Preheat the oven to 325°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment, or use a large oven-safe skillet and don’t worry about the parchment.

2 Place the walnuts on the baking sheet and drizzle the maple syrup over, followed by the tahini, sesame seeds, olive oil, and cayenne. Season with salt and pepper, and toss to combine so that everything is evenly coated.

3 Roast, stirring occasionally, until the walnuts are golden brown and the maple syrup is caramelized, 15 to 20 minutes.

4 Remove from heat and immediately sprinkle with the sumac and flaky salt, tossing to coat. Let cool completely before serving.

DO AHEAD These walnuts can be made up to 5 days ahead, stored in a tight glass jar or plastic container. If it’s humid outside and they feel sticky at all, just reheat them in a 325°F oven for a few minutes to dry out a bit.

NOTE I buy walnut “pieces” because not only do they save you a step, but they are also less expensive. If using whole, just lightly crush them before proceeding with the recipe.

Every now and then I have a moment when something I eat blows me away, either by its ingenuity or its deliciousness or sometimes both. Sitting down to what is probably still one of the best lunches of my life at a small restaurant in Sicily, I was served a bowl of croutons as a snack, presumably made from yesterday’s bread. Reader, I was blown away! I know, a crouton in general, is fine, but croutons as a snack? Without salad? Without a roasted chicken? Just a bowl of highly seasoned, herby croutons to nibble on while you wait for more bowls of croutons? It was the most brilliant thing I have ever seen. So, while I’d love to take credit, I simply cannot. I can only pass along the genius to you.

TO MAKE
Nearly any loaf of bread will do, but know that these croutons are extremely good made with leftover focaccia (this page). Cut or tear your bread of choice into bite-sized pieces. Toss on a rimmed baking sheet with a clove or two of finely chopped garlic if you like garlicky things and/or a pinch of red pepper flakes if you like spicy things. Add enough olive oil to soak them pretty well (they should be pretty oily), then season with salt and pepper.

Bake in a 425°F oven, tossing occasionally, until they’re crispy and golden brown on the outside, but still kind of tender and chewy on the inside, 10 to 15 minutes (they will firm as they cool, so good to test one on the counter when you think they might be done). Remove from the oven, and let cool before snacking on or adding to your salad.

For an Italian-Seasoning-Croutons-Out-of-a-Bag vibe, keep the garlic and chili flakes and add finely chopped fresh herbs like thyme, rosemary, oregano, or marjoram and a good sprinkle of dried onion or garlic powder before baking.

For Sumac Croutons, keep the garlic and add about 1 tablespoon of dried sumac before baking.