I hosted a barbecue on Sunday whose theme could best be described as “Men in Echo Park explain the difference between VistaVision and 70mm IMAX.” (A real banger). A bunch of colleagues were in town, staying near the Vista Theater’s consistent lines for Paul Thomas Anderson’s One Battle After Another, and they had questions.
It also gave me an excuse to break out this $34 eBay find.
Here was the menu for the festivities of about 16 people:
Starters
Caramelized onion dip and Cape Cod originals
Crab claws — the frozen ones at Fish King are divine — with yuzu kosho aioli
Black pepper and parmesan popcorn
A snack spread of cheeses, compound butters, bread, radishes, flaky salt and cured meat
Mains
Jerk chicken with a tamarind barbecue sauce
Coconut rice
Braised cabbage
Dessert
Blueberry and peach cobbler (the recipe in the Superiority Burger cookbook is such an easy crowdpleaser)
Six pints of various Salt & Straw ice cream flavors, with olive oil, honey and salt on the side for a small fixin’ situation
Drinks
A medley of wine bottles from LA Homefarm
Pacifico
Big bottles of Topo Chico
This is becoming a go-to menu format for hangs of more than six. If I’m cooking for six or fewer, I’ll more deeply consider courses and timing. I’ll plate individual dishes and operate like we’ll be sitting around the dining room table for hours. The food is slightly more ambitious.
But I’ve found that the best approach for a bigger group is just to lean into a casual approach with family-style crowd pleasers. Like:
Only one entree, ideally something I can prep ahead of time or set and forget. Jerk chicken is fun because it’s … involved — dry brine, wet brine, barbecue sauce, jerk seasoning — but on the day of all you’re doing is grilling.
Sides for the entree that cook easily in one big pot.
Way more starters and snacks than mains. Lots of dips. A simple bread with a great, flavored butter or spread.
At least one raw bar element. I’m preferable to oysters, crab claws or shrimp cocktail, but go nuts. Serve over ice in any fun vessel you have around. (Also, collect fun vessels).
I’ll challenge myself on dessert for a smaller dinner. That’s when the burnt white chocolate and soy panna cotta comes out. But I don’t want that kind of stress when there are so many other variables at play. I can bake well with time, energy and focus. It’s my most effortful form of cooking, so I know not to bother flexing here. You know what people like? Good fruit with lots of sugar. Ice cream. Chocolate. I find that this is often the course where the ROI in terms of time spent relative to increased guest enjoyment can sway the most.
Always sparkling water.
Beyond the menu guide, here are a few more observations, dos, don’ts and whatnot from a year of ramped up hosting in LA.
Have some food ready when people walk in … but not all the food. Give an arrival time an hour before you actually want to eat. Slowly plate up more stuff from there.
Make a prep list. Do it digitally or manually, whatever works for you. If you aren’t a complete, utter, maniacal control freak like me, let a friend or two help you knock out the easy tasks.
Hand write a menu. Even if it’s just for you.
Get organized. And clean as you go.
Have a few house specialties. Mine include that caramelized onion dip, cornbread, chicory salads. It’s nice to have things you can knock out instinctually, and that regular guests come to look forward to.
Always consider the timing. Not just to keep the food hot and the guests happy, but, you know, so you can actually hang out with them rather than hiding by the stove firing multiple components of every dish.
And the plating. I was taught to plate with organic shapes in mind. Naturally occurring waves and lines. Lots of herbs, for flavor and color. Most things could use well-sliced chives.
People can bring stuff. Especially drinks and ice. That’s fine. But they can’t Venmo you. I don’t believe in Venmo culture. With friends, everything evens out eventually. If it doesn’t, stop hanging with those people.