No one can resist a good cheese ball

For years, the cheese ball has been my quiet party superpower. Whenever I’m hosting — or even lightly conscripted into bringing “something snacky” — it’s the dish people inevitably circle back to, buttery Ritz in hand, doing that little half-apology as they go in for just one more swipe. I’ve learned not to fight it. A well-made cheese ball has gravitational pull.

No surprise: the appeal is practically baked into my DNA.

Visits to my grandmother’s house always began in the same place: the refrigerator. Inside, like a little tableau of Midwestern abundance, lived three constants — her elbow macaroni salad freckled with red pepper and green onion; slabs of apple cake chilled so cold the white icing turned glossy; and, most importantly, her cheese ball. It was a marvel of its genre: cream cheese, sharp cheddar, a splash of Worcestershire, a spoonful of sugar, crushed pineapple, pecans. A combination that reads chaotic on paper but, in practice, hit this sweet-salty, tangy chord that made a sleeve of crackers feel like a true vehicle of grace.

That cheese ball has stayed with me all these years, not just for its flavor but for the way it quietly signaled welcome. It’s a small gesture, effortless in execution, yet unmistakably warm — the kind of thing that makes a house feel alive and a gathering intentional.

We’ve talked before here at The Bite about the quiet erosion of ambient hospitality — those small, unfussy gestures that make people feel welcomed without any performative flourish. The tiny rituals help stake out a sense of ease: a truly good, no-notes dip; a bowl of warm, spiced nuts that perfumes the whole apartment the moment the door opens. And cheese has, of course, become the modern shortcut. The board. The wedge. The baked brie doing its annual molten collapse.

But this holiday season, I’d like to propose a gentle pivot back toward something both nostalgic and disarmingly charming: the cheese ball.

They are affordable, malleable, and undeniably fun. And while I apparently have the soul of a grandmother (per my Spotify Wrapped, which placed me at a respectable 64), these little spheres of cheese don’t have to feel entirely retro in execution.

“A perfect blank canvas”

“Cheese balls are celebratory and fun, but sometimes the flavors feel a little outdated,” Erika Kubick, author of “Cheese Magic”, told me in a recent email. I’d reached out after her recipe for a Blue Cheese Yule Log stopped me in my tracks. Like me, Kubick is from the Midwest — though she grew up more in a chips-and-dip household — and she’s always cherished the nostalgia of a well-executed cheese ball. (Her most popular recipe from her first cookbook, “Cheese, Sex, Death,” was the Everything Bagel Goat Cheese Ball, if you were wondering.)

“I wanted to take another crack at it in this book,” she said. “I thought it would be fun to tie it in with the ancient tradition of the Yule Log, which was itself a cause for celebratory gathering. I swapped the ball shape for a log, upgraded the flavors with blue cheese, cheddar, hot sauce, horseradish and chives, and coated it with a bark of bacon and chopped pecans.”

The beauty of the cheese ball is that it’s remarkably forgiving — and endlessly customizable. Follow Kubick’s lead, and treat the classic recipe as a blank canvas rather than a rigid formula.

According to Kubick, the classic cheese ball is really not far from the one I grew up on: cream cheese, cheddar and Worcestershire, rolled in chopped nuts.

“It’s a little boring on its own, but makes for a perfect blank canvas,” she said. “Use other classic foods for inspiration and punch up the flavors that way. For example, you could make a French onion soup–inspired ball by swapping cheddar for Gruyère, mixing in caramelized onions and a touch of thyme, and finishing it with a coating of crispy fried onions.”

The possibilities, really, are only limited by your imagination (and perhaps the number of crackers in your cupboard).

I’ve been tinkering in the kitchen these past few weeks and landed on two versions that feel just right. One leans sweet: cream cheese infused with raspberry jam and rolled in crushed pistachios, a little jewel of a thing. The other is unapologetically savory, studded with tangy giardiniera and cloaked in what I’ve taken to calling “edible confetti” — a joyful mix of crushed Parmesan crisps, bacon and fried shallots.

Either (or both) would make a show-stopping centerpiece the next time you host a few friends — or, honestly, a perfectly celebratory snack for one or two, eaten with zero judgment and maybe a sly little wink.

A note from Kubick: “You can make the ball about up to 3 days in advance. Don’t add the outer coating until you’re ready to serve, otherwise it will get soggy. I also recommend letting it temper for 30 minutes before serving so it’s easier to spread.”

This story originally appeared in The Bite, my weekly food newsletter for Salon. If you enjoyed it and would like more essays, recipes, technique explainers and interviews sent straight to your inbox, subscribe here.