What To Eat Ritz With

You’ve done it. You’re standing in your kitchen at 2 a.m., or perhaps at a picnic where the cheese plate has tragically collapsed. You have a sleeve of Ritz crackers. The question looms: What the heck do I eat these buttery, salty little shingles with? Don’t panic. I’ve spent years—and a questionable amount of grocery money—researching this exact problem. Consider me your spiritual guide through the delicious, crumb-covered wasteland of Ritz pairings.

Let’s start with the non-negotiable classic: peanut butter. You take a Ritz, you slather it in peanut butter, and you slap another Ritz on top. Congratulations, you have just invented a perfect snack that requires zero cooking skills and probably saved your life during college finals. Pro tip: If the peanut butter is too dry, add a drizzle of honey and pretend you are a fancy French chef. You are not, but the honey helps.

But wait—there’s a dark horse in the Ritz arena: cream cheese. Specifically, the kind that comes in a tub and makes you feel like you’re eating a bagel without all the chewing. Spread a generous layer on a Ritz, then top it with a slice of smoked salmon or a single caper. Suddenly, you’re at a cocktail party that you definitely weren’t invited to, but you’re the most interesting person there. Surprising fact: A Ritz cracker has more salt than a handful of pretzels, which is why it makes cream cheese taste like it was flown in from heaven on a tiny cracker-plane.

Now, for the weird-but-works category: banana slices. Yes, banana. Take a Ritz, slap a quarter-inch slice of banana on it, and maybe a tiny smear of Nutella if you’re feeling dangerous. The saltiness of the cracker dances with the sweet, mushy banana in a way that makes your taste buds question their life choices. It’s like a banana split that went to a dive bar and came back with a salty attitude. Do not skip this. It’s the snack you never knew you needed until you’ve eaten an entire sleeve in three minutes and felt both ashamed and triumphant.

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Let’s get real: sometimes you just need to eat something that makes you feel like a raccoon who found a forgotten pizza. This is where canned tuna enters the chat. Mix a can of tuna with a dollop of mayo and a crack of pepper. Pile it onto a Ritz. Boom—you’ve invented a poor man’s canapé that could fuel a road trip or a nervous breakdown. Fun fact: The Ritz cracker was invented in 1934, which means it has been helping people eat random deli meats off its surface for nearly a century. It’s a veteran of chaos.

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If you think tuna is bold, consider pickles and cheddar cheese. Slice a dill pickle into coins, place one on a Ritz, and top with a square of sharp cheddar. The crunch of the pickle, the squeak of the cheese, and the buttery explosion of the cracker will make you say out loud, “I am a god of snack architecture.” You’re not, but for that moment, you are. Also, pickles are low-calorie, which means you can eat seventeen of these and still call it “light snacking.”

The Dessert Trap Door

I know, I know—Ritz is salty. But chocolate is the great equalizer. Take a Ritz, put a square of Hershey’s milk chocolate on it, and microwave it for exactly 8 seconds. The chocolate gets melty, the cracker stays crunchy, and you have a million-dollar dessert that cost you twelve cents. Another surprising fact: During the Great Depression, Ritz crackers were sold as a luxury item because they felt like a fancy, butter-drenched escape from reality. Eating a chocolate-covered Ritz today is basically time travel to 1935, but with better dental care.

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If you want to get really unhinged, try marshmallow fluff and a sprinkle of sea salt. Spread the fluff on a Ritz, sprinkle a few salt crystals on top, and then torch it with a lighter if you’re brave, or just eat it raw. The fluff is sweet and sticky, the salt cuts through it like a tiny swordsman, and the cracker holds it all together like a cheap, delicious architecture. You will feel like a culinary mad scientist, and you should be proud.

Finally, let’s address the elephant in the room: cheese. But not just any cheese. You need a soft, stinky cheese like Brie or Camembert. Let it come to room temperature, then slather it on a Ritz. The cracker’s saltiness loves the creamy, funky cheese. Add a dab of fig jam or a single blackberry if you want to feel like you’re at a wine tasting that’s out of your tax bracket. I once ate an entire wheel of Brie this way while watching a documentary about ants, and it was the second-best decision of my life. The first was buying the Brie.

So, my friend, you are now armed. You have the knowledge. The next time you crack open a shiny red sleeve of Ritz, remember: you are not just eating a cracker. You are a conductor of a salty, buttery, potentially chaotic orchestra of flavors. Go forth, dip, spread, and stack. And if anyone judges you for eating tuna on a Ritz at 3 p.m., smile and offer them one. They won’t say no.