Pot lucks are common in this place. A cultural phenomenon I did not grow up with, and that makes me as uncomfortable as Secret Santas and gift exchanges. My Ontario born family "had people over" for Sunday or Christmas or a birthday, and fed them pale food with rich desserts until they burst. Or braved "the bridge" over to Windsor to be fed in turn, followed by games of 500 or Euchre. "Bringing a dish" would have been a slight insult, although a cake for the host celebrating the birthday was occasionally arranged.
Here, Pot Luck is how food at parties is arranged. The per capita rate of crock pots is staggering. And I, for the most part, prefer not to eat food from a buffet of any kind. I don't trust the stuff. There was a spate of Hepatitis A several years ago here, a number of restaurants closed under suspicion. The CDC eventually figured out it wasn't the restaurants, it was the brought food - and children. Hep A vector is largely fecal-oral. Vaccinating children has abated the threat, but such shared food, cooked at home with young children, still don't mean they are washing their hands.
I hate to bring food, because I'm not much of a cook, don't enjoy cooking, and don't have the utensils to bring food from home. Often when I have tried, my offering is left untouched. I usually bring my own lunch when the bring-a-dish parties are planned at work. I do better with a whole meal at home, everything fresh, served hot, nothing to be ashamed of.
At this new place, there are a lot of cooks. Most don't have young children at home. On Tuesday, I was suddenly asked if I would like to bring something for the Burrito Bar, and I immediately thought of a new salsa in a jar that I like.
On Friday, mine was the only salsa, others brought meat in crock pots, salad, beans, but no other salsa. By the end of the day, my salsa vanished. I had a nourishing and tasty lunch of burritos. Felt strangely good about having brought the right thing, useful.
The salsa is marked as "hot," and it does have kick, but mostly it has a lot of flavor. I'd call it medium-hot, D calls it Extra-medium. (He cites the phrase from Scrubs.) Had some from our own jar on eggs this morning.
9 comments:
Ah, welcome back to the West! :-)
If there are kids at the party, you can always bring a stack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and earn the eternal gratitude of all the kids & parents present :-)
We are hopelessly addicted to hot food. I think it is an endorphin problem...
but French people can never eat our curries because they like to taste their wine.
'Bring a plate', threw me when I first arrived in Australia! These people don't have plates?
dale,
It's mostly work "parties." I've avoided the home ones with the actual kids actually running around. But I'll remember the PB&J in case.
rosie,
I'm sure hot food releases happy endorphins. And I prefer beer.
herhimnbryn,
Oh, that's funny. Reminds me of times when we did have to bring *chairs* because Aunt Evelyn didn't have enough for everyone to sit.
Pot lucks (the term seems to be gradually supplanting "bring-a-plate", here) are pretty much the order of the day among many of my friends. I've suffered no ill effects (touch wood), but few of that group of friends have kids and occasionally I'm discreetly picky, preferring to leave the incubating chicken untouched. Very true about the staggering per capita amount of food, though. Most people bring enough to feed a substantial proportion of the crowd, forgetting they only need to bring the equivalent of what they'd eat themselves. I do love the variety and the communal nature of pot lucks, though.
We have both, about equal popularity - meals fully prepared by the host, or meals collectively prepared and supplied.
Extra Medium sounds funny.
I used to be part of a large group that had monthly pot lucks, usually with a hundred or so people. There was usually a good assortment of food. But one sunny warm August Saturday we, as others just brought a dessert. We found 110 others brought dessert as well. One single guy stopped at KFC, and that lonely bucket of chicken was the only non-sugar item on the table. I happen to like desserts, and had no problem heaping my plate high.
The next month somebody started assigning food groups by last name.
Cue for: "chamber pot luck".
But gosh there was a word that took me back. Euchre! During RAF national service I was supposed to be repairing radio kit in Singapore. Instead I languished in sick-quarters as doctors tried to cure my terminal athlete's foot. Having exhausted the library I learned and played all sorts of card games of which only the names now survive. Euchre was one. But how about Honeymoon Bridge?
The most successful wedding reception I've ever attended was one at which the bride and groom requested no presents (they'd been living together for years and didn't need as much as a tin-opener) but asked guests to bring their own picnic lunch. They provided the cake and some fizz for toasts. Brilliant economically and great fun.
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