There is a peculiar moment at almost every British barbecue when the cook stands proudly beside a tray of beautifully grilled food, only to realise that the entire sauce selection consists of half a bottle of ketchup, a jar of mustard last opened during the previous summer and something labelled “extra hot” that nobody is willing to try first.
Dessert has always travelled well. Recipes cross borders, settle in new kitchens and acquire local ingredients along the way. Cakes absorb regional liqueurs, fruit is poached in celebrated wines, and familiar puddings discover that a small measure of something spirited can improve their confidence enormously.
People often present Christmas as if they can organise happiness by purchasing enough lights, cooking an enormous dinner and arranging the family in matching jumpers. Real Christmases are rarely so cooperative.
Cooking for a crowd is one of those activities that sounds wonderfully sociable until the practical details arrive. There are portions to calculate, dietary needs to remember, serving times to coordinate and a kitchen that appears to shrink every time another guest accepts the invitation. By the time the food reaches the table, the cook may have used every saucepan in the house and developed strong opinions about people who arrive early. Traybakes offer a much calmer answer.
First, it must taste delicious. Second, it should look as though it might whisper your name after the lights go out. This balance is not always achieved. Some Halloween dishes are visually impressive but require guests to identify them through cautious poking. Others are perfectly pleasant party snacks that have been declared “spooky” after somebody places a plastic spider nearby.