Perfect a potluck party
Among dining trends, potlucks have had curious staying power. And yet, a dish guaranteed to please a crowd can be elusive. Britt Mann has some expert advice to ensure your dish is devoured every time.
Allow me to outline for you the seven stages of potluck panic - and their potential perils. Delight
Upon receiving an invitation, you feel pangs of anticipation. Socialising over fare lovingly crafted by human hands, in the comfort of a loved (or at least, liked) one’s home? Squee! The prospect of reacquainting yourself with the culturally dormant casserole? What a night!
Trepidation
Your positivity gives way to memories of agonising over what to make, then traipsing around multiple supermarkets. You spent as much money as you would on dinner at a fancy-ish restaurant to concoct something that spilt in your car on the way there. Your $75 Jamie Oliver mac ‘n’ cheese went uneaten. The host thought it was an apple crumble and left it in the fridge with the desserts.
Determination
Perhaps this time could be, would be different, you think. The usual trawling of websites and cookbooks starts; learnings from Barry Schwartz’s Paradox of Choice threatening to overwhelm.
After canvassing opinions from apathetic friends, who accuse you of ‘‘over-thinking’’ it, you settle on a dish, jot down your shopping list, and tootle to the requisite two to three supermarkets to buy a $10 box of Israeli couscous or a similar ‘‘exotic’’ grain.
Exhaustion
After a few hours at the shops followed by another few in the kitchen, you’ve created an ironically disproportionate number of dishes in pursuit of ‘‘bringing a plate’’. The familiar feeling of a task being more trouble than it’s worth begins brewing in your head.
Resentment
You have spent the better part of a Saturday afternoon preparing for an event you’re now unsure you even want to attend.
Resignation
You attend the event anyway.
Shame
Your worst fears are realised. You spend the evening shooting furtive glances at a table laden with dishes, largely also comprising Israeli couscous or similar ‘‘exotic’’ grains.
Your contribution to the spread, its jaunty sprig of curly parsley wilting on top, goes untouched by guests other than you.
You accidentally get the crowd favourite – chilli con carne – on your person, but you stay until someone whips out a guitar and attempts a rousing rendition of Bob Marley’s Redemption Song. You cover your exotic grains with a crumpled piece of clingfilm that’s no longer particularly clingy, and go home.
The potential perils of the potluck are, of course, part of the attraction.
‘‘By definition, true potluck means taking your chances, and if that means ending up having peanut butter on toast, so be it,’’ says Lucy Corry, food writer and contributor to Stuff.
‘‘It’s the company you eat with that counts, right?’’ she says.
Sally Butters, food editor for NZ House & Garden, is similarly pragmatic, offering a mantra for the over-thinkers among us.
‘‘They’re meant to be relaxed affairs...
‘‘No one ever starves, and who cares if you have three potato salads or too many desserts?’’ she says. ‘‘It’s only one meal in your lifetime.’’
I sought these foodies’ advice on fail-safe potluck recipes, spurred by the unsavoury experiences I have suffered in my life.
I figured the ideal dish should meet the following criteria: an ingredient list that wasn’t too long, was easy to source, and was easy on the wallet; a recipe that didn’t take too much time or skill to execute; a dish that was easy to transport, and didn’t require reheating or assembly at the venue, or spill or melt or spontaneously combust en route.
When it came to the eating, it’d need to be a dish with recognisable yet appetising elements, which wasn’t messy (spaghetti), smelly (fish, egg), or embarrassing (anything shaped like a sausage) to consume.
A tall order perhaps, but Corry and Butters were up to the challenge.
Butters’ suggestion of tomato and herb couscous certainly fulfils these requirements. Most of the ingredients are pantry staples, the rest are readily found in gardens or supermarkets at negligible cost. And there’s hardly any cooking required. As Butters says: ‘‘Simply boil the jug.’’
Corry cited her thoroughly road-tested roasted eggplant with whipped feta and walnuts. The weekend after the recipe was first published, Corry says, five colleagues reported they had made it for barbecues they’d attended.
Corry agrees that the potluck concept can be confusing. She suggests guests ask the host whether the event will be an intimate dinner, drinks and nibbles, or an extravagant feast; if there will be children who might appreciate simpler fare, and whether those who RSVP’d ‘‘yes’’ have any dietary restrictions.
‘‘Don’t take lots of meat to a vegan gathering, don’t take your much-acclaimed peanut butter cheesecake to a party full of people with nut and dairy allergies unless you’re handy with an EpiPen, [and] don’t turn up with lots of alcohol if the other guests are teetotallers.’’
If hosting duties have fallen to you, Corry advises embracing the potluck concept in all its flawed glory, ‘‘and take your chances of five people turning up with tubs of supermarket hummus and packets of crisps’’. Or adopt a dictatorial approach: ask guests to bring a particular type of dish or item.
Immensely comforting for the kitchen-phobe, Corry says if you can’t cook well, then shop well.
‘‘Engage your inner Instagrammer and create a fabulous platter,’’ she says. If all else fails, buy the hosts something they can enjoy at a later date.
‘‘Wine is always good.’’
Tomato and herb couscous
Serves 6-8 (multiply quantities as necessary)
2 cups instant couscous 2 tablespoons olive oil 1⁄2 teaspoon salt 2 cups boiling water 500g cherry tomatoes 1⁄4 cup olive oil 2 small red onions, sliced into rings 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped 1⁄2 teaspoon ground cumin 1⁄2 teaspoon ground cinnamon 35g pine nuts, lightly toasted 35g sliced almonds, lightly toasted 1⁄2cup sultanas 11⁄2 tablespoons liquid honey 1⁄3 cup red wine vinegar 1⁄2 cup mixed fresh herbs, roughly chopped, eg coriander leaves, basil, parsley, mint 1 cup rocket leaves, roughly torn
Place couscous in a large bowl and mix through the salt and oil using your fingertips.
Pour the boiling water over, mix well and set aside for 15 minutes. Using a fork, fluff up the grains.
Cut half the cherry tomatoes in half. Spray the remaining whole tomatoes with a little oil and grill on a barbecue or grill pan until just starting to char.
Heat the 1⁄4 cup oil in a large pan over medium heat. Add the red onions, garlic, cumin and cinnamon, and cook until the onion starts to caramelise.
Add the nuts, sultanas, honey and vinegar. Increase heat and cook while stirring until the vinegar has almost evaporated. Cool slightly then mix into the couscous with the fresh herbs, rocket and tomatoes. Season to taste. Serve at room temperature. Recipe: Bernadette Hogg
Roast eggplant with whipped feta and walnuts
Serves 4 (multiply quantities as necessary)
1⁄2 cup extra virgin olive oil 2 medium-sized eggplants, cut into 1cm slices 200g (about 1 cup) diced feta – creamy style is best 1 1⁄2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice finely grated Zest of 1 lemon cup chopped walnuts cup finely chopped fresh parsley
Preheat the oven to 200 degrees Celsius and line two baking trays with foil, shiny side up. Brush each tray with some of the oil, then put the eggplant slices on top. Brush each piece of eggplant with oil, then bake for 25-30 minutes or until they are golden brown and soft. Set aside to cool.
Meanwhile, put the feta in a small bowl and mash with a fork. Add about two tablespoons of the oil, the lemon zest and juice and beat well until smooth. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper – it won’t need much salt.
To serve, arrange the roasted eggplant slices on a serving platter. Top each one with about a teaspoonful of whipped feta, then scatter over the walnuts and parsley. Drizzle any remaining oil over the top and serve.