It’s that time of the year again: the silly season. Tinsel-clad reindeer are popping up in supermarkets, co-workers have taken on that frayed, nervy look of those in sore need of a holiday, and people are inviting other people to cocktail parties.

I’ve never really approved of this kind of gathering, really. Part of my aversion, I’ll admit, is social phobia. I am genuinely horrible at the hovering-with-handbag-on-shoulder-whilst-making-small-talk bit. But I recently spotted this article and I was reminded that there’s something else that makes cocktail parties so fraught: canapés.

I know what you’re thinking: what do canapés have to do with it? Leave the buffalo wings out of this! But there are several things about the blighters that make me anxious.

Firstly, there’s their transience. The way they sashay past on the arm of waitrons, never to return. This activates a kind of primal competitive instinct in me, the FOMO (fear of missing out) causing me to leave perfectly comfortable conversations to chase after strange concoctions on cocktail sticks. I experience a similar instinct at buffets, and invariably end up piling my plate with everything on offer, thus ruining perfectly good dishes as the mayonnaise gets all over the mozzarella and the potato salad soaks up the peanut satay dressing of my mini chicken kebab.

Secondly, there’s the level of commitment required by the canapé. While food served on plates affords one the opportunity to take a bite and leave the rest, the appetizer, once claimed, must be eaten, or discarded somehow. Picture the situation: a beautiful confection on a cracker passes by. You triumphantly claim it and take a bite – only to discover it’s banana-wasabi flavour. What to do with the remaining two mouthfuls? It’s a nightmare.

Lastly, there’s the inevitable temperature / texture issue. It can’t really be helped, because canapés have to be made in advance, but, inevitably, things that should be warm are not, things that should be chilled are not, the bruschetta is simultaneously soggy and stale, and crunchy raw onion somehow gets into everything.

To keep you safe from hors d’oeuvre-inflicted harm this festive season, here’s my guide to the top five canapés to avoid at cocktail parties.

1. The two-handed canapé
I don’t mean the canapé itself, although that would also be terrifying. I mean the ones that require two hands to eat. I know it looks cute to serve a teeny-tiny little bowl with a fork, or a set of chopsticks, but WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MY DRINK? It’s a quandary.

2. The rubbish-generating canapé
Then there are the canapés that cause problems once they have been consumed. What must I do with this teeny-tiny paper bowl? This toothpick? This olive pit? Or worst of all: this chicken bone? Yet again, I am trapped. It may seem like I am invested in the conversation, but really I am dying to leave so that I can go and find a bin, a side plate or a table to discard my detritus. I have, in the past, resorted to putting the little bowls and toothpicks into my handbag. Which, in retrospect, might explain those odd stains.

3. The hard-to-chew canapé
Your slice of rare rump steak atop a crostini is very fetching, I’ll concede, but watch what happens when I try to bite into it: I make good headway into the bread with my lower mandibles, but the beef will not yield. Awkwardly, I have to work the whole piece of meat into my mouth. My face now displays signs of panic. Nodding emphatically to make up for my silence, I devote an eternity to slowly gnawing through the thick hunk of meat, as steak juices run down the side of my face like a bad handlebar moustache. The same thing happens with slimy brinjals and roasted veggies. Match the textures of your components, people.

4. The fishy canapé
These often arrive incognito. Disguised as crumbed chicken or beef meatballs, these little fun-sized nuggets turn out to be made of seriously fragrant fish, bits of garlic and raw spring onion. Come on, guys. Nobody wants to be stinky at a party.

5. The communal canapé
This upsets me on a cleanliness level. It’s all fine and well if you get there first, but once the fourth or fifth person has stuck their hand into the bowl and scooped up cream cheese with their dry carrot nub, or the vivid sweet chilli sauce has made its way via cheese knife onto the wedge of gorgonzola, the whole thing starts to become a bit post-apocalyptic.

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Go home canapé, you’re drunk!
With this new knowledge in mind, we now call on you to go forth and create lovely canapés in your own home. These 15 recipes will give you somewhere to start. We know that, with the help of ample wine and serviettes, you can do it.

• Beetroot, dill and feta pitas
• Chorizo and caramelised onion tart
• Garlic and herb bread with peppered cheese
• Ginger and prawn rice paper rolls
• Mediterranean tortilla stack
• Pan pizza
• Parmesan shortbread with roasted tomatoes, pesto and mozzarella
• Parmesan-crumbed cauliflower
• Prawn and vegetable spring rolls
• Sausage rolls with tomato
• Slow-roasted tomato and gruyere tart
• Sushi hand rolls
• Tempura Calamari with sweet-and-sour dipping sauce
• Tempura prawns
• Tempura vegetables with garlic aioli