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THERE’S NO PARTY I love more than a holiday party. A fabulous frock, a little lippy, something special to sip on. But this year, instead of shots and Champagne towers (which I adore), I’m craving something more relaxed. For a drink that still feels special but also suits nights when I don’t feel like tearing up the dance floor, I can think of nothing more perfect than vermouth. Strangely, it’s taken me years to figure out how to re-create this social ritual at home.

Persons: sipping, it’s Locations: Palma , Mallorca

YEARS AGO, my aunt and I used to go to this Spanish restaurant in Sydney and get the shrimp a la plancha. It came with a serving of fries and a simple green salad. Though smaller plates were the popular move at this place, my aunt was like Sally from “When Harry Met Sally,” always ordering exactly what she wanted. Out came our trawler of simply seared shrimp, sailing by tabletops of tiny tapas. As the waiter approached, we’d take bets on the head count.

Persons: Sally, “, Harry Met Sally, ”, we’d Locations: Sydney

LET ME set a scene worth pursuing before the sultry weather stops. Think of creating a cinematic al fresco meal, even if it’s on the sidewalk. Let there be a tangle of legs under the table, and a tabletop where not all the pieces match but everything belongs and killer conversation flows naturally. Above all, everyone should feel a sense of ease.

SIMMER LOVIN’ On a chilly spring evening, a cozy stew is just what your dinner guests want—and a low-lift option for the host. IT’S SPRING, but the rainy spell in the Northeast and snow in L.A. have got me thinking we have one last slow-cook hurrah in us before we bundle away our socks. I’m surprised to be peddling an old-school stew for an early-spring party, but recently a friend served one, with a baguette and bottle of wine, and the simplicity of the meal just set my world right. The menu exuded confidence. Just good friends and a meal that made everyone feel at home.

I’m rebranding the humble loaf, lavished with something simple and delicious, as the ultimate dinner-party luxury. My father’s family were bakers of bread, so I’ve always been a sucker for a handsome loaf. One of my most prized possessions is a Williams Bakery bread token my dad gave me before he died. If ever there was an indication of how vital bread is, that token is it. During the Great Depression in my native Australia, these coins were used in lieu of money to buy essentials.

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