Building a Cocktail Buffet

When we put on a cocktail buffet, we go into production mode.


One of our go-to hors d'oeuvres is grilled shrimp. We use tail-on shrimp and apply a light drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil, then a spice rub adjusted to the menu theme. Most of our rubs include a few basic spices--coarse salt, garlic salt, onion powder, brown sugar and usually chili powder. For a Southwestern theme, we would add cumin. Cinnamon and coriander would give the rub a North African tilt. For an Asian flavor, we use ginger and powdered lemon grass.

Line shrimp on a sheet pan, apply olive oil and dust with spice rub. Flip the shrimp and repeat the process.

For a small group, we would favor really large shrimp and place them on skewers so they don't curl. Otherwise, for larger groups, we lay the shrimp directly on the grill over very hot coals. Flip the shrimp once and look for some nice charring here and there. They only take a few short minutes to cook through. Remove them to a sheet pan to cool.


We served these Asian-style shrimp with a mayo dip seasoned with wasabi.


Miniature crab cakes also make an excellent hors d'oeuvres. We favor large pieces of crab meat in our crab cakes, not the kind where everything seems to have been run through a food processor to resemble cat food. The cakes are bound together with just a bit of egg, mayonnaise and bread crumbs.


If you have a crab cake recipe you like, all you have to do is reduce the size of the cakes from what you are used to. My wife likes a small mechanical scoop. It looks just like a miniature ice cream scoop. In fact, these scoops come in many different sizes.



Mix your usual ingredients in a bowl, then heat about 1/2-inch cooking oil at the bottom of a heavy skillet. Use both hands and the scoop to form the crab cake mix into small rounds. Place these in the hot oil with plenty of room around each, then flatten with a narrow off-set spatula. When the cakes have browned on one side, turn to the other side. The oil should be just hot enough to cook the crab cakes all the way through without burning. You will see the oil bubbling around each crab cake.




Remove the cakes to a baking sheet lined with paper towels. We served them with a Chesapeake-style tartar sauce, just a dollop on each crab cake.


We made two kinds of miniature sandwiches for the buffet using sweet potato biscuits. The sweet potatoes are first roasted in the oven, cooled, then incorporated into a traditional biscuit batter. My wife uses a small cookie cutter to form the biscuits. After they've baked and cooled, it's quite easy to open them into two halves and lay them out on the kitchen counter for assembly.




There were two different sandwiches on the menu: roasted turkey with a sage-infused mayonaise and cranberry sauce and a glazed ham with our own green tomato-apple chutney and maple mustard.



Once the biscuit pieces are lined up, we use a small spatula to spread the condiments, then lay down pieces of turkey or ham cut to size. Once the sandwiches are finally assembled, they can easily be stored in the refrigerator until you are ready to display them. They can even be made a day ahead. Just bring them up to room temperature before the guests arrive.


A suggestion for display: Try stacking the mini-sandwiches on decorative plates placed on a three-tier stand. This brings some drama and verticality to the buffet.

Besides being loaded with holiday flavors, the sandwiches--small and tidy as they are--also have a kind of tongue-in-cheek appeal. They make you want to giggle out loud.

The Nerve to Cook

It was time to make meals for one of my personal chef clients and this week I would do something I had never attempted before. I just didn't have time to sit down at the computer and design menus for two dinners.

What the heck? I thought. I've been doing this long enough. I'll just walk into the grocery and see what looks good.

Really? A tiny voice said. You think you're up to this? You think you have the nerve?

Shut up! I replied. This is no time to go weak in the knees. We've got a client to feed here.

So I walked into the produce department at Whole Foods with a sense of mission and a lazer-like focus. I began scanning the bins for fruits and vegetables. I placed one condition on myself: whatever I purchased must be seasonal. No tomatoes this time of year, no peppers, no eggplants or corn on the cob.

That would be just one of the complications. Something you need to know about this client is his diet. He's determined to lose weight. Everything I cook for him is geared toward reducing calories and cholesterol. But he won't eat beets or cucumbers or melons of any kind. He doesn't like spicy, and not too much seafood--no scallops. And his partner prefers salad over leafy greens. Oh, and ixnay on the chicken thighs, only breasts.

I dropped some bright red radishes in my cart along with red-tipped lettuce and purple endive, thinking of a salad. Then leeks, broccoli and fennel. Mushrooms would be easy, I thought. The creminis were MIA, so I chose shitakes. It had been ages since I'd cooked sunchokes, so I grabbed some of those as well.

On to the seafood counter. I had made a seared halibut the week before. I needed something different, but not too complicated. The jumbo shrimp looked good, so I took a pound of those. Strolling the Asian aisle, the soba noodles caught my eye, and suddenly I saw them mingling with the shrimp. So it was back to produce for some snow peas, carrots and fresh ginger to round out the dish that was beginning to take shape in my head.

On the way to the meat counter I snagged a can of artichoke bottoms thinking I would finally make that artichoke, fava bean and pea stew I'd been mulling since last year. I had been ogling the veal chops the week before, so I picked up a pair, very thick and pink and fresh looking.

I arrived home with three bags of groceries and the outlines of a plan. Another condition of my personal catering is the limited time I have to work with. Not only do the meals need to be fresh, seasonal, varied, portable and re-heatable, I can't spend too much time over them. I charge by the hour.

Perhaps you've already formed a vision for these two meals. What I came up with was this.

Dinner #1:

Jumbo shrimp with soba noodles, steamed vegetables and a soy-sesame-ginger dressing

Salad of julienned radishes and carrots

Lemon-scented broccoli

Dinner #2:

Grilled veal chops with rosemary-garlic rub and sauteed shitakes

Leeks braised with white wine

Sauteed fennel and carrots with grated Parmesan

I cooked the sunchokes and tossed them with garlic chives from the garden, intending to send them as the third item in the shrimp dinner. But I just couldn't reconcile the artichoke flavor with the Japanese theme. So the chokes ended up as a third side-dish with the veal chops.

I ended up with an unused can of artichoke bottoms that I'll turn into that spring stew next week. Meanwhile, the lettuce, endive and some of the radishes wound up as a salad in one of the lunches I prepared for this client the following day.

So I guess I passed my personal Iron Chef test. And isn't this the way we're supposed to cook, scouring the market for the best possible ingredients? If I were really organized, I would start doing my shopping at the local farmer's market. Too bad it falls the day after I usually make this client's meals.

Still, old habits die hard. I've gotten very comfortable designing menus on the computer, then buying ingredients to fit. It seems our whole culture is geared toward making lists, then going food shopping as if our food were on the same level as toothpaste and toilet paper. Like everyone else, I've been trained and conditioned to think in those terms.

I don't know if I have the nerve to improvise on a weekly basis.