If the recipe developer doesn't have you drizzling, they've hung you out to dry.
I read a lot of recipes. In fact, investigating why so many of them lead home cooks astray is my side gig right now here at Slate (send us a question!). And in all of my reading (and subsequent cooking), there's one simple instruction that immediately endears me to a recipe. One simple directive that convinces me to trust the mind behind the text, because it's a step that truly makes a world of difference. It's so easy. A quick trick that augments any dish; it's the food hack to end all food hacks: a drizzle of olive oil.
Pasta recipes far and wide benefit from an extra drizzle of olive oil. Soup is improved immensely from a small trail of the stuff, and I would even suggest it should be standard practice to finish any lentil stew with a quick glug of luxurious extra virgin olive oil (that, and a splash of vinegar).
Just a couple weeks ago, I watched a deli worker at Molinari in San Francisco drizzle a little bit of oil from a container of sun-dried tomatoes onto my focaccia sandwich. Genius. At one of my favorite restaurants in Detroit, I was recently served a cold plate of Parisian ham that's finished with salt, pepper, and yep, you guessed it, a little shower of olive oil. Vegetables, proteins, soups, salads, pastas, you name it -- they all benefit from this one simple enhancement.
Chefs, recipe developers, and savvy home cooks all understand the power of a little drizzle of oil, and it's time for everyone else to wise up at home. Extra virgin olive oil raises the stakes on everything it touches. Subpar frozen pizza? Add a little olive oil. Need a nonbutter yet buttery popcorn topping? Olive oil. Shoot, I reckon a Crunchwrap Supreme from Taco Bell would be vastly improved from a little bit of the stuff.
Olive oil contains a spectrum of flavors, so it's important to find one that speaks to you. At the grocery store, California Olive Ranch (the stuff that's 100 percent from California, not the global blend) does the job nicely. It's smooth, mild, but rich enough to reach decadence. Great for cooking (think: basting eggs in the morning) and drizzling. You should also try to buy oil from small, family-owned operations when you can. My current favorite bottle is Chiavaroli, from Italy, and I use it exclusively for drizzling on top of homemade pasta. Its color is dark green, and it tastes fruity, buttery, and smooth. Whatever fresh pasta dish I've recently made at home, a little drizzle of this stuff instantly makes it more luscious.
Whenever I travel to Italy, Spain, Greece, or Portugal (the latter of which is a very underrated supplier of olive oil), I try to bring home something new and exciting. Nuñez de Prado from Spain, Faris from Greece, and Mondegão from Portugal. Each has a different, unique flavor. Some peppery and bitter (Greece), some grassy and nutty (Italian), some bright and acidic (Portugal), and some as bold as they are rich. Have an arsenal of olive oils, and you possess the ability to raise up any mediocre meal to a good one, and elevate a good meal into great territory.
Utilizing olive oil in such an everyday manner isn't the most American technique, but we could learn a lot from other olive oil-producing countries. The stuff is a powerful weapon to be had at home. Moreover, what olive oil represents to me is a bit of easily accessible, daily splendor. Some everyday opulence. Make no mistake, that's an important part of life. I'm not rich, and I likely never will be, but I splurge on a good bottle of olive oil every damn time. Part of what makes the horrors of life bearable is finding small, everyday luxuries where you can: Some time spent in the beauty of a natural park, an art museum, basking in the sunshine on a blanket with your loved ones, wading in a pool of water with your dog, and yes, drizzling olive oil on a well-prepared meal.