As a guest, what does it mean when you're asked to contribute a dish? Casey Elsass is a cookbook author and recipe tester who happens to have a full dance card with years of invitations to gatherings. He has compiled a collection of dishes that fulfill any partygoer's query of What Can I Bring?
Evan Kleiman: You write that perhaps even more important than what you bring to a gathering is being honest about what kind of guest you are. Can you elaborate on that?
Casey Elsass: I think there's been a lot of writing on how to be the perfect host and gracious hosting but there's not a lot of information on the guest side of the equation. I think where that all begins is your job as the guest at being reliable. In the beginning of the book, I say, if you're always on time, bring appetizers. If you're reliably late, bring a drink. If you're stopping by later, bring dessert. And if you're bringing nothing else, bring a present.
I love that. The one thing you don't want to bring is something that's going to create more work for the host, right?
Yeah or if you know you're the type of person that's going to be leaving the house at the time you're showing up, don't volunteer the cheese plate. You're going to derail the whole evening.
Walk into the party with a showstopper of a raspberry meringue tart and leave heads spinning. Photo by Gentl and Hyers.
100% true. What about worrying about your friends and other guests and people you don't know about their dietary restrictions?
That's not a requirement, but it is a really nice thing. I went to a Friendsgiving this past year and one of the guests at the party was gluten-intolerant. The host just put it in the email invitation that one of the guests is going to be gluten-intolerant, so if you're making anything that's gluten-free, let us know so she knows what she can eat. I was making a pie but I also made a miniature version of the pie that was gluten-free just for her. She still texts me about that because she was so touched that someone went out of their way to cater to her.
Every recipe in my book, right at the top, lists any dietary restrictions it meets, or if there's an easy substitution to make it flexible, that's also there, because I think it's nice if you're able to be considerate of everybody at the party. Plus, the more people who are eating your food, the more opportunities for compliments.
Perfect. Hopefully we're all going to be receiving a few invitations this summer to a barbecue or some other backyard gathering. Tell us an idea if we're asked to bring either an appetizer, a beverage, a salad or a main dish that will have guests talking.
There's a couple I would point out. I have a salt and vinegar salsa verde, which is a very classic version of a salsa verde but I love to serve it with salt and vinegar chips, which gives it an extra punch of flavor. I really love that one. I also have a pico de sandia, which is pretty much exactly a pico de gallo except instead of tomatoes, it's really finely cut up watermelon, which is really nice and refreshing, super juicy. So those are two dips.
For salads, I have a Caesar salad that has these bouillon croutons, which are big chunks of bread torn up, lightly toasted, so they're crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside. But before they go in the oven, they get tossed in a dressing made with bouillon, so they have this really nice chicken-y flavor, or vegetable flavor, if you want to use vegetable bouillon. That to me is a classic side that I would serve with pretty much anything.
I love that. What if it's a boozy affair? What should we bring?
I love a boozy brunch. I think the classic Bloody Mary, obviously, most of all, because the beauty of a Bloody Mary is the longer you can let your bloody mix sit ahead of time, the deeper and richer the flavor is going to be. So if you know brunch is going to be the morning after a long night, do yourself the favor and make the mix the day before, let it sit in the fridge and then your thing is ready to go first thing in the morning. The hair of the dog sitting there waiting for you. But I also have a couple other things in that chapter. There's an orange and cantaloupe agua fresca that is really beautiful and refreshing all on its own. To me, that is the starting point of a gorgeous mimosa.
What about if we're a baker and we're going to a brunch? What takes not too much effort but will be appreciated by everyone?
There's a couple things. It's a little bit of a project but I think cinnamon rolls are always going to be the scene stealer anywhere you're going, any time of day, but especially for brunch. It takes a little work but the nice thing about cinnamon rolls is you can get all the way to the point of time to bake, slide the whole pan in the fridge, let it sit there overnight, then bake it the next morning before you head out the door. Walking in with a dish of warm cinnamon rolls is probably the best thing you could possibly do as a guest.
Casey Elsass has been the co-author on more than 20 cookbooks and debuts his own with "What Do I Bring?: Recipes to Help You Live Your Guest Life." Photo courtesy of Union Square & Co.
What about if people know we're a baker and were expected to bring some kind of showstopper dessert?
I'm glad you asked. In the book, I thought it was really important to have a ranking system for each recipe. I don't like to use the word "difficulty," because nothing in this book is hard but ranked by effort. And so you know what you're getting into before you get your heart set on a particular recipe. But for all my showoffs out there, there is a section of the book that is tagged "bragging rights." Those are the most effort, most showstopping, and most beautiful. I would say, out of all of those, there's a raspberry meringue tart that I have brought a few times, a few different places, and that, like nothing, silences a room like that walking through the door.
I love that. So if we're not comfortable cooking and we don't want to bring prepared foods from a shop somewhere, is it safest to bring wine?
Yeah, I think a thoughtful bottle of wine is always great. I think even just walking in the door with a handwritten note to leave on your way out is one of the best gifts you could give a host.
Basically, you are doing a thank you note in advance.
Yeah, I think there's a lost art to saying thank you. I think we're very casual about a lot of things, and I think maybe a quick, fired off text feels like a show of appreciation. But two times in my life, friends have come over my house for a dinner and for a brunch, and a couple days later, there was a thank you note sitting in my mailbox for me, and those notes are still on my fridge because it was such a meaningful gesture, and a card is not always going to be appropriate.
If you're getting together with really close friends and it's something kind of casual, don't do that. It'll just feel awkward for everybody. But even just taking a minute the next day to send a really thoughtful, appreciative text that details exactly how much work they put in and how enjoyable the night was, iIt goes such a long way to making your host feel really seen and really appreciated.
What about when we're told to just bring yourself? I know for me, that's very hard to do. Do you have any edible, handmade host gifts that you share?
Yes, I do. I specifically wrote a chapter for you and for me, personally, the people who are just not capable of walking through a door empty handed. I wrote this chapter called "Present Moment" and it's some edible gifts that you can leave behind for your host.
There's a homemade hot fudge, there's a jam, there's a hot sauce, and there's seasoned oyster crackers, which is something my mom and I used to make every Christmas for all of our family and friends. I have three flavor options, and it's a simple spice mix that you toss with the crackers. You can put them in a little cellophane bag. But I think even when your host says, "just bring yourself," first of all, respect that. Don't walk in with a full dish because, clearly, they have it covered. But I think bringing something thoughtful for them to enjoy later on is such a nice, simple gesture.
Raspberry Meringue Tart
Makes one 9-inch tart
Somehow anything pressed into a tart pan comes out looking so professional when you slide the sides off. This easy cookie crust is no exception. Filled with a sweet-tart raspberry curd and finished with huge clouds of peaky Italian meringue, well, I'm not sure if I could ever go back to lemon. It's worth the small investment in a kitchen torch to get those dreamy browned edges that make a meringue pie so picture-perfect.
Ingredients
For the crust
- 32 Biscoff cookies (250 grams) or gluten-free cookies
- 1⁄4 cup (30 grams) powdered sugar
- 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
For the filling
- 16 ounces frozen raspberries
- 1 cup (200 grams) granulated sugar
- 1⁄4 teaspoon kosher salt
- 3 large egg yolks (save those whites for the meringue!)
- 2 teaspoons cornstarch
- 1 (0.25-ounce) packet unflavored gelatin (from a 1-ounce box)
- 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 1-tablespoon pieces
For the meringue
- 1 1/4 cups (250 grams) granulated sugar
- 3 large egg whites
- 1⁄4 teaspoon cream of tartar
Instructions
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Preheat the oven to 350°F and set a rack in the center.
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Start the crust: Before it's out of commission, whirl your cookies in the food processor. Make sure you end up with 2 cups of fine crumbs—process more cookies if you need to. Cookies go in a large bowl, the food processor gets a quick rinse and snapped back into place.
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Make the filling: In a medium saucepan, combine the raspberries, granulated sugar, salt, and 1⁄2 cup cold water. Set over medium heat, cover, and set a timer for 10 minutes. While that's simmering, whisk the egg yolks and cornstarch in a small bowl, then sprinkle the gelatin over top. When the timer goes off, ladle a little of the raspberry mixture into the egg mixture and whisk to combine, then pour it all back into the saucepan. Stir until the mixture starts to thicken, about 2 minutes, then scrape into the food processor. With the pro- cessor running, add the butter one piece at a time. Scrape down the sides and process for 30 more seconds to make sure everything is combined. Keep the lid on the processor and set a timer for 1 hour to let it cool.
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While the filling is cooling, let's come back to the crust: Whisk the powdered sugar into the cookie crumbs. Melt the butter and drizzle it into the cookie bowl. Mix until the crumbs are hydrated. Eyeball about two-thirds of the mixture and sprinkle that over the bottom of a 9-inch tart pan. Press into an even layer. Sprinkle the rest of the mixture around the edges of the pan and press to make the sides. Do another press around to make sure there are
no cracks or uneven patches. Slide the crust in the oven and set a timer for 10 minutes. Remove and very gently press a measuring cup around the edges to make sure the crust perfectly cools in all the nooks and crannies. Cool completely while the filling finishes setting up. (We're done with the oven, you can turn it off.) -
When the hour is up, the filling should have a skin on top and still be very warm. Process again, just for 30 seconds. Hold a medium mesh strainer over the crust and pour the filling in. Give the pan just the tiniest littlest wiggle to help the filling settle in an even layer, then press plastic wrap directly on the surface. Set a timer for 2 hours and let the filling set at room temperature, then transfer to the refrigerator for another 2 hours or up to 24 hours.
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When it's getting close to go time, make the meringue: Set a small saucepan on the stove and attach a thermometer. Pour in the granulated sugar, then slowly pour in 1⁄2 cup cold water. Don't stir or move the saucepan. Set over high heat and let the sugar melt on its own and boil. It's ready when the thermometer hits 240°F.
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Before that happens, put the egg whites in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Beat on low for about 1 minute, until they're foamy. Add the cream of tartar, then increase the speed to medium and whip until the whites are fluffy and soft peaks form, about 2 minutes.
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As soon as the sugar syrup hits 240°F, remove it from the stove. I like to pour mine into a liquid measuring cup because a pour spout makes all the difference for this next part. With the mixer running on low, very slowly pour the syrup down the side of the bowl until it's all mixed in. (You want to stream it down the side so it mixes with the egg whites instead of tussling with the whisk.) Increase the speed to high and whip until the sides of the bowl are back to room temperature and the meringue is at stiff peaks, around 8 minutes.
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Scoop and swirl the meringue into a big pile over the top of the tart. It's beautiful in its glossy, snowy whiteness, but if you have a kitchen torch, singe the meringue for a perfectly toasted finish. If you're not serving it within the next hour, store it in the refrigerator for up to 4 hours. To serve, center the base of the tart pan on a can of beans or something small with some height and slide the side down to remove.
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You can serve straight from the base of the pan or carefully slide the tart onto a serving plate. Any leftovers can be wrapped and refrigerated for 2 more days.