The canapé is a beautiful thing. Like the salad and the sandwich, it is a sub-artform that is completely malleable and subject to the creator’s inspiration and whim. It is the height of edible spontaneity. And it is often incredibly elegant too. You can do anything that involves putting something or some combination of things on a cracker and call it a canapé — as far as I’m concerned at least.
I’ve mentioned how my sister and I love to eat together canapé-style whenever we’re home — we pull a whole bunch of things out of the fridge and the pantry, and spend an hour or two hanging out in the kitchen, constructing as many different permutations of the ingredients we have as we can think of. We got do this at least a few times while we were both home over break, and it made me really happy.
Then, when I went on tour to Vail and Colorado with the Cats for the second half of break, I found myself eating a few lunches this way. Which wasn’t surprising for me because the Okis know how to stock a kitchen, let me tell you. Laurie Oki, praise her. Here’s some proof of my spoils.
Delicious spelt pita chips. Baby chard and spinach. D’Affinois cheese (triple crème cow’s milk cheese from France). Freakin’ TRUFFLE TAPENADE. What. I know. Once I found that little jar in the fridge there was no going back.
Crunchy. Fresh, bitter, and vegetal. Creamy and pungent. Umami. All in one delectable bite. It’s the height of pleasure from contrast. I could eat whole meals this way.
That’s when I found the blueberries.
Yes, this baby was in need of some fruity lovin’.
So behind the blueberries in the fridge was a cute little white tub of fresh ricotta that was calling out my name, in a plaintive sort of way.
Aw heck, I guess I could oblige, right?
You really didn’t think that one bite would be enough, did you?
And to finish, an olive. Briny, grassy, and ever so toothsome.
It was a good olive.