Potlucks Will Save The World
No one has ever had a potluck that looked like the images in this post. The internet is full of lies.
I grew up with potlucks. East Chestnut Street Mennonite Church and Community Mennonite Church in Markham, the two churches I went to most often, both made potlucks the center of many a post-service gathering. Outside of church, parties with my parent’s friends also quite often revolved around everyone bringing food to share. Various family events, reunions, anniversaries, the like, all incorporated aspects of potlucks. I don’t know quite where the predilection towards them comes from, the Mennonites have no known specific obsession with sharing food. I mean one of the founding myths of the United States relates the story of the first potluck, but wherever the inclination to share food came from it made a big impression on me. In my mind, the potluck is the best way to spend time with friends.
I don’t usually have people over to my place. One, I live a little out of the way of major transportation lines, two I have roommates I don’t like to bother, and three, I get a little lazy when it comes to planning parties. But, in each of the last four years I’ve had a potluck at my place on the Super Bowl. Usually somewhere around twenty to twenty-five people come, though some years it has pushed thirty. My apartment couldn’t handle more than that due to space and chair limitations, so I try to keep it around that size. Every year I make ribs, BBQ sauce, and usually a chili or something similar. Last year I experimented with wings. I also make it a potluck. I ask everyone to bring something. Some people go all out and bring beautiful salads, their fav Mac and Cheese, or the newest Alison Roman dip. Some people bring Tostitos and salsa. It all rules. It wouldn’t be a true potluck without both ends of the spectrum. Despite my reticence at having people over for other 364 days of the year, The Super Bowl potluck will stick around. Not really for the football, almost no one fully watches the game, but because of the potluck. Eating food builds community and we can always use more of that.
People put together potlucks in different ways than I do. East Chestnut Street, and probably many other churches as well, had more organization that I did. Families with the last name A-D brought soup, E-J contributed a main dish, K-S a vegetable, and so on, with the roles rotating each go-around. Markham did it a little differently, allowing every family to bring whatever they wanted, knowing full well that people would often bring more than one dish, often two or three, usually meat-based, with enough for everyone to get as much they wanted. I don’t make a spreadsheet for my Super Bowl potluck. Everyone knew I had the ribs covered and went from there. Someone matched their contribution to the ribs, others went their own delightful ways. Some asked what gaps they could fill. And we ended up with a delicious feast.
Part of the beauty of a potluck lies in the fact that it reflects the community that puts it together. No two look exactly alike. Even mine, which sees a lot of the same people come year after year, changes with who can and can’t make it. You can discern much about a group of people by what their potlucks look like. Partly through what they bring, but mostly because the group builds something together. That act of creation, and how people react to it, provides all you need to know about a group of people. These disparate parts – someone’s souffle with a cherry reduction, store-bought cookies, turmeric chicken salad – get transformed into a wonderful communal event. The potluck strips downs barriers. Sure, people might try to compete to see who makes the best buffalo chicken dip, or who has the coolest dish concept, but that’s minor part. Potlucks allow you to eat food with people you love. Food that everyone helped make. Not many things more beautiful than that exist in this world.
I forced a non-Super Bowl potluck on my friends last year. Doing a Friendsgiving potluck was my idea, but I made my friend Jon host it. I probably annoyed him by showing up 6 hours early to make the turkey after texting him increasingly obtuse instructions on how to dry-brine it, but whatever, he can deal. The potluck itself was amazing. Everyone outdid themselves. Much better than a Thanksgiving where one person has to make each and every little thing. No one should have to give up a whole day off of work just to cook for everyone. That Friendsgiving made me want to do more potlucks. Non-holiday ones especially. Why wait for November to come around to eat a meal with your friends? You don’t have to do all the cooking. The labor and cost get spread around.
Therein lies another key to my enduring love for potlucks. It is a great expression of the Marxian maxim of “from each according to their ability, to each according to their needs.” Can’t cook? Bring some napkins, everyone needs napkins. Can cook? Work your ass off and make something delicious. Can’t afford to bring anything right now? Don’t worry, there will be food aplenty. I don’t want to say that growing up with potlucks made me a socialist, but it sure didn’t hurt.
I’ll end this just by saying that there is no better way to introduce friends that don’t know each other than a good potluck. Complimenting a dish makes for an easy conversation starter among strangers.