Crowd-pleasing finger food, dips, platters and bakes that scale up and travel well. (57 recipes)
Coronation chicken was invented for the banquet of Queen Elizabeth II's coronation in 1953 by the Cordon Bleu school in London, and it became the filling of choice for jacket potatoes, wedding buffets and garden party sandwiches across England. Poached chicken is folded through a creamy, mildly spiced sauce of mayonnaise, curry paste, apricot and yoghurt. Chef's tip: poach the chicken very gently and cool it in its liquid so it stays juicy.
Meaux, east of Paris, has made Brie since the Middle Ages, and the town's cheese fair still crowns the 'queen of cheeses' each year. Baking a small Brie in puff pastry with honey and nuts is a favourite of Île-de-France home cooks for drinks parties, Christmas Eve and New Year: the pastry goes crisp and golden while the cheese inside turns into a warm, flowing sauce for dipping bread and apple slices. A small 500 g Brie or a thick wedge works better than a huge wheel. Brie de Meaux is made with animal rennet, so choose a vegetarian Brie for a vegetarian table. Chef's tip: rest it for 10 minutes after baking; cut at once, the cheese floods out and the pastry goes soggy.
Hot sambousek bi jibneh are the first thing to vanish from a Syrian mezze spread or a Ramadan iftar table, where Damascene and Aleppan cooks fry dozens at a time. A tender olive-oil pastry is folded around white cheese, parsley and nigella seeds, then crimped with a fork or twisted into a rope edge and fried or baked until blistered and golden. Eat them warm, when the cheese is soft and stringy. Common mistake: using a salty cheese straight from the brine — soak akkawi or halloumi for an hour first. Chef's tip: mix a little mozzarella into the filling for that stretchy pull. Akkawi, halloumi and mozzarella are often made with animal rennet; use vegetarian-rennet versions if needed.
Birthday parties, office farewells and afternoon tea in a Buenos Aires confitería all bring out trays of sándwiches de miga: triple-decker sandwiches of paper-thin, crustless white bread with butter or mayonnaise and fillings of ham (pork) and cheese, egg, tomato, lettuce or olives, cut into neat rectangles. Specialist bakeries sell the large, very thin pan de miga sheets for them; at home, a soft sandwich loaf sliced thin and rolled flat works. They should be soft, moist and delicate, never dry at the edges. Dry sandwiches are the usual problem, so spread the mayonnaise right to the corners and keep finished trays under a damp tea towel. Chef's tip: assemble, wrap the stack in cling film and chill it for 15 minutes before trimming the crusts; the layers set and the knife cuts clean edges.
In Ciudad Chihuahua and the farming towns of the Sierra, chile con queso is not the runny orange dip of Texas bars but a skillet of roasted long green chillies, onion and tomato with mild Chihuahua cheese melted through it, scooped up with flour tortillas at a carne-asada Sunday or eaten as a main with beans. Chihuahua cheese, also called queso menonita after the Mennonite farmers who make it, is like a mild, buttery cheddar. Chef's tip: steam the roasted chillies in a covered bowl; the skins then slide off in one go.
Born in 1980s Buenos Aires as an advertising idea and adopted by the whole country, chocotorta is the cake children ask for at every birthday and the easiest dessert in the Argentine repertoire. Chocolate biscuits are dipped briefly in milk (adults often use coffee), layered with a cream of dulce de leche beaten with cream cheese, and left overnight until the biscuits turn soft and cake-like. It is rich, sweet and a little tangy, and slices cleanly straight from the fridge. Any plain crisp chocolate biscuit works; rectangular ones make the neatest layers. The mistake to avoid is soaking the biscuits too long: a one-second dip is plenty, or they collapse into mush before you can lay them down. Chef's tip: assemble it a day ahead in a loaf tin lined with cling film; overnight chilling is what turns it from biscuits and cream into cake.
The gilda was born in a San Sebastián bar in the late 1940s and named after the screen heroine of the film of the same name: green, salty and a little spicy, as the regulars put it. Every Basque bar counter still has a plate of them, eaten in one bite with a glass of something cold before lunch. Salted anchovies in oil are cured, not cooked, so they are not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system; for a safer version use good tinned tuna in oil instead. A common mistake is using fresh anchovies marinated in vinegar (boquerones), which are raw and too soft for the stick. Chef's tip: thread the anchovy in a wave between the olives so each bite gets a bit of everything.
Order a round of drinks in an Amsterdam brown café and a plate of bitterballen will follow: small crumbed balls with a crackling shell and a molten centre of beef ragout, eaten with a dab of sharp mustard. They are the classic borrel snack across the Netherlands, served at parties and receptions as well as in bars. The filling is a thick roux sauce with slow-cooked shredded beef that has to set firm in the fridge before it can be rolled. The usual failure is a filling that is too soft, so the balls split open in the oil; cook the ragout until it is very thick and chill it for at least four hours. Chef's tip: crumb them twice (egg, crumbs, egg, crumbs) and freeze them for 20 minutes before frying for a shell that never bursts.
Pico de gallo, also called salsa fresca or salsa mexicana, is the fresh, uncooked salsa that sits on every Mexican table: diced ripe tomato, white onion, serrano chilli and coriander, brightened with lime juice and salt. It is crunchy, juicy and clean-tasting, with just enough heat, and goes with tacos, quesadillas, eggs, beans, rice and tortilla chips. It is best within an hour of making. Chef's tip: add the salt just before serving; salt draws water out of the tomatoes and leaves the salsa sitting in a puddle.
No Filipino party table is complete without a platter of lumpiang shanghai, the pencil-thin pork spring rolls that disappear first at birthdays, Christmas Eve (Noche Buena) and family reunions. They came from the Chinese-Filipino cooks of Manila, and the filling is seasoned minced pork with carrot, onion and water chestnut, rolled tight in thin wrappers and fried until they crackle. Dip them in sweet chilli sauce or banana ketchup. Chef's tip: roll them no thicker than your finger; thin rolls cook through in the time the wrapper takes to turn golden.
In Rome supplì are bought from pizza-by-the-slice shops and friggitorie and eaten standing up, wrapped in paper, before the pizza arrives. Unlike Sicilian arancini they are oval and the rice is cooked in tomato sauce, so the inside is orange-red; when you bite one in half, the mozzarella stretches into a long 'telephone cord', which is where the nickname al telefono comes from. Roman bars usually add meat ragù; this version keeps it vegetarian with a basil-scented tomato rice. Chef's tip: cook the rice a day ahead and chill it in a thin layer; cold, firm rice shapes neatly and does not split in the oil.
Sev puri is the snack Mumbaikars eat standing up at Juhu and Girgaum Chowpatty, or at the chaat stall outside the office in the evening. Flat, crisp papdi are laid out on a plate, topped with potato, onion and raw mango, splashed with green, sweet tamarind and red garlic chutneys, then buried under a snowfall of fine sev. It must be eaten within a couple of minutes, before the papdi soften. Here the papdi are made at home, but good shop-bought ones work fine on a busy day. Chef's tip: assemble each plate just before it's eaten, in the order given; chutney on bare papdi makes them soggy, so the potato always goes down first.
Lucknow's cooks built their reputation on restraint: the Awadhi biryani is perfumed rather than fiery, with no tomato, very little chilli and whole spices that whisper instead of shout. Vegetables are cooked in spiced yogurt, layered with long-grain rice that is only three-quarters done, then sealed under a dough lid so everything finishes in its own steam, a technique the city calls dum pukht. It is the dish for Eid gatherings, wedding buffets and long Sunday lunches across Uttar Pradesh, served with a cooling raita and a sliced onion salad. The common mistake is boiling the rice fully before layering; it then turns soft and sticky under the lid instead of separating into long, distinct grains. Chef's tip: lift a grain and press it between your fingers before draining; it should break into two or three firm pieces with a white core.
Moitié-moitié means half and half, and in Fribourg it names the canton's own fondue: equal weights of nutty Gruyère and soft, buttery Vacherin fribourgeois melted with dry white wine in a glazed earthenware caquelon. Families light the burner in the middle of the table on cold evenings from October to March, and ski huts above Gruyères serve it after a day on the slopes. The Vacherin makes it silkier and milder than a Gruyère-only fondue, so it clings to the bread in a thick, glossy coat. Serve with day-old bread, a plate of cornichons and small boiled potatoes, and drink white wine or warm black tea with it; locals say cold water sits badly with all that cheese. Traditional Gruyère and Vacherin are made with animal rennet, so for a vegetarian table look for wheels labelled with microbial or vegetarian rennet, or ask a cheesemonger for a similar Alpine cheese that uses it. Chef's tip: grate the cheese rather than cubing it and let it come to room temperature for 30 minutes; it melts evenly and the fondue stays smooth.
In the Valais, the vineyard-and-glacier canton along the upper Rhône, raclette began as a herders' meal: half a wheel of cheese propped beside an open fire, the melting face scraped (racler) onto a plate of potatoes. Today Valais families and village festivals still serve it the slow way, one plate at a time, while at home most people use a tabletop grill with small pans. The cheese is soft and pungent from the wheel and turns sweet and nutty as it bubbles, set off by sharp cornichons and little pickled onions. A proper Valais raclette needs nothing else: no charcuterie, just potatoes, pickles, pepper and a glass of Fendant or hot tea. Raclette cheese is usually made with animal rennet; choose a wheel or slices labelled with microbial or vegetarian rennet. Chef's tip: keep the potatoes hot in a covered basket wrapped in a cloth, so each scoop of cheese lands on a steaming potato and stays runny.
In Nagoya's izakaya, chicken wings come whole, with the mid-joint and tip still joined in a V, and they arrive in piles beside cold drinks. Tebasaki are fried without batter until the skin turns crisp and thin, then brushed with a sweet soy glaze and dusted heavily with pepper and sesame. The spice is the point: they should taste peppery, salty and sticky at once. Eat them with your hands, twisting the two bones apart to pull the meat off. Chef's tip: brush on the glaze the moment the wings leave the oil; hot, crisp skin soaks it up and stays crunchy, while cooled wings just turn sticky.
Fried chicken shops are on almost every street corner in Korea, and late-night delivery boxes are shared over sport on TV or by the river in summer. The pairing with beer even has its own word, chimaek, but an ice-cold alcohol-free beer, barley tea or a fizzy drink works just as well. Yangnyeom chicken is the glazed kind, tossed in a sweet, garlicky gochujang sauce, and it always comes with cubes of white pickled radish to cut the richness. Chef's tip: let the chicken rest for 5 minutes between the two fries; the moisture that rises to the surface is what the second fry turns into a shatteringly crisp shell.
Party skewers of paneer, onion petals, capsicum, tomato, mushroom and cassava, each marinated in a thick, garlicky tandoori yogurt marinade and grilled over charcoal until charred at the edges. Make the marinade the day before and string the skewers just before the barbecue. Serve hot with mint and yogurt chutney.
Eight small pizzas on a soft yogurt dough made with half wholewheat flour, spread with hot pizza gravy and loaded with capsicum, pineapple, onion, mushrooms, olives, sweetcorn, chilli flakes and both mozzarella and cheddar. The bases can be baked ahead and topped when the guests arrive. Cut into quarters and serve hot.
Sausage rolls are the snack of Australian bakeries, school canteens and footy grounds, eaten from a paper bag with a squeeze of tomato sauce, and they're on the table at every kids' party from Perth to Hobart, and across the Tasman too. This vegetarian version wraps crisp, buttery puff pastry around a savoury filling of browned mushrooms, lentils, carrot, cheddar and sage, firm enough to slice and with the peppery, herby taste of a good bakery roll. The meat original uses raw seasoned pork or beef mince in place of the filling, as noted in the steps. Chef's tip: cook the mushrooms until they are dry and browned; any leftover liquid will turn the pastry soggy from the inside.
Arancini are the pride of Sicilian rosticcerie, eaten mid-morning or as a snack on the ferry across the Strait of Messina; in Palermo they are round and called arancine, in Catania they are cone-shaped. The rice is cooked with saffron, cooled, then wrapped around a filling and fried until the crust is crackling gold. The best-known filling is meat ragù; this vegetarian version uses a thick tomato ragù of mushrooms and peas with a cube of caciocavallo or mozzarella, which is also found in Sicilian bars. Chef's tip: let the filling cool completely and keep it thick; a wet filling seeps through the rice and makes the balls split.
Tequeños are said to come from Los Teques, the town in the hills outside Caracas, and they are the party food of Venezuela: no birthday, wedding or office celebration is without a tray of these crisp pastry fingers wrapped around salty white cheese. The dough is spiralled around the cheese, then fried so the pastry is crunchy and the cheese just starts to melt. Serve with guasacaca (avocado sauce) or a sweet chilli dip. Use a cheese made with vegetarian rennet. Chef's tip: overlap each spiral of dough slightly and seal the ends well, or the cheese escapes into the oil.
In Saigon and the south, fried spring rolls are called chả giò (in Hanoi, nem rán), and no family party or Tết table is without a platter of them. Southern cooks wrap them in rice paper, which fries up into a blistered, glassy-crisp shell quite unlike wheat pastry. This vegetarian filling of glass noodles, wood ear mushrooms, taro, carrot and tofu is the one served at chay restaurants. Roll them in lettuce with mint and perilla and dip in vegan nước chấm. Chef's tip: fry them twice, first gently until set and pale gold, then briefly in hotter oil, and let the rolled rolls dry for 15 minutes first; that is how you get the shattering, bubbly crust that stays crisp.
Golden, crackly spring rolls made with the book's home-made samosa pastry and filled with rice vermicelli, capsicum, carrot, celery and spring onion seasoned with chilli sauce and coriander. They are served hot with a sweet, sharp dipping sauce of vinegar syrup, cucumber, red chilli and peanuts. A party favourite: make 15 and watch them go.
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