Midnight Mortadella

three-ingredient party snack

I have cycled through many, many attitudes about party snacks in the last decade of my life. There was the time when I spent a whole weekend making scuttlebutt sandwiches for a rooftop party—something I’ll likely do again, though certainly not in this economy. (I did the same for my 30th birthday, and the night ended with stubbed-out cigarettes in a bowl of extra feta.) I’ve wrangled crudité plates (not really my style). I’ve made cheese twists (not worth the hassle). I’ve made bacon-wrapped dates. There were a few famous years where, for my holiday party, I rented a life-sized animatronic santa that wiggled his hips while spewing vodka into a plastic bowl; people still ask for him. And a few years back, for the same (though santa-less) holiday party, I realized that people really, really love pigs in blankets, and you can just buy them in bulk from the freezer section at Wegmans. Embracing “store bought is fine” has, finally, brought me some peace.

RIP wine santa! everyone was scared of you

For my birthday this year, I wanted to do something small: I didn’t have the capacity for any party planning past a quick “come over saturday night” email. I would not roll up the rugs; I would not let people wear shoes inside the apartment; I would not fill the tub with ice; I would not batch martinis. After spending much of the last two months in Vermont, I wanted to see a few friends while drinking a glass of wine and sitting on my freshly-vacuumed living room rug. Of course there would be snacks—what am I, a heathen? it’s Aries season—but I wanted to minimize my own labor.

At all parties I put out a few bowls of plain Ruffles potato chips. They are my house chip, my party chip—sturdy enough for a dip, brash enough to stand on their own against a cocktail or two. I made this sautéed onion and yogurt dip, which I’ve been making since I worked at Saveur three or four lifetimes ago. People go crazy for it, I mean full-on gaga. But you have to cook the onions way longer than the recipe says; five minutes is never enough.

Because I can never leave well enough alone—again, it is Aries season—I needed a second thing, and I knew I wanted to recreate something I’d eaten in New Orleans this winter, at a perfect little bar called Bar Pomona.

morning-after party snack on sourdough