Potlucks: Love and Hate (but mostly Hate)

My daughter is part of this terrific social justice class at her school. We are grateful that she can be a part of it. She is learning a ton and is gaining poise and eloquence, all of which is good.

I love this program except that it hits me in one area of my life that I absolutely hate: potlucks. The parents and students meet once a month for a potluck dinner and then a meeting about the program. Last Thursday, I found myself making a baked penne dish with Italian sausage and mozzarella cheese on top. I was pissed. Why should I have to cook a fucking meal before I attend a meeting? Is this just a Seattle thing that didn't die in the 1970's like they did in the rest of the U.S. when moms went back to work and didn't have all afternoon to cook for an evening event? This is why caterers and pizza delivery people were invented, along with regular meetings where you don't need to feed people.

I was complaining as I was making the baked penne. "It's a potluck," my daughter said. "You don't need to bring anything. Other people bring stuff, and it all works out." Her cross country team hosts potluck dinners, and she never brings anything. Even though I hate potlucks, I think it is wrong to show up empty handed, which is why I hate them because of the pressure to bring something. The girls'' team and the boys' team usually meet together except for once. At that dinner, the only food there were salads and store bought cookies. The mom who hosted was highly annoyed when she had to make pasta for all of the girls. I can't blame her. The other option is to list what people need to bring, which is also annoying. Why do some people get to bring beverages when others have to bring side dishes? Who makes side dishes anymore these days? Should I bring five pounds of steamed broccoli? My daughter would never be able to show her face at school again. 

(My god, I sound like the late professional curmudgeon, Andy Rooney.)

The potlucks for my daughter's social justice program are about the same as the cross country potlucks: lots of salads and store bought cookies, very few main courses. Fortunately, the parents get to eat first, and the kids get the scraps. 

Thankfully, school potlucks have become more chill as my kids have aged. When my kids were younger, and the parents were just getting to know each other, potlucks were like a fashion show where people cooked into impress.

Seattle has lots of people who consider themselves foodies, thereby raising the stakes of potlucks. Once, The Boy's kindergarten class had a potluck picnic on the last weekend of school. Jack was working, and I had the two kids to myself. I didn't feel like cooking and was feeling passive aggressive about having to cook something fabulous for this event. I went to the grocery store and bought a two-pound vat of yellow potato salad, the kind that comes in a plastic tub with a handle to make it easy to carry. 

"You didn't!" Jack said. "You represented our family with store bought potato salad? And it wasn't even the good, fancy, organic deli kind? It was the kind they make in Cincinnati and ship across the country?"

"Yep," I said. "You were welcome to make your potato salad before you left for work." No comment followed.

I didn't write "McGuire" on the big tub in Sharpie. That would have been bad. One of the dads (who I late became friends with) made baklava and spanakopita. I am not kidding. There must have been a sale on phyllo dough someplace. In short, there was nothing I could have made that would come close to those dishes. Pre-made yellow potato salad was the best I could do. The baklava and spanakopita were awesome. I was glad someone else was willing to spend hours cooking for a kindergarten potluck. The kids didn't eat the baklava or spanakopita. This was purely for the adults. I brought home close to 1.75 pounds of potato salad.

So what do I love about potlucks? The suckers who make stuff like baklava and spanakopita! (Ha! ha! Just kidding, Eric!) Sure, they are showing off their cooking skills and how much free time they have, but I'll take it. 

Even non-foodie potluck have their good points. Eating with people you don't know gives you something to do and talk about. 

"This lentil salad is great! And so is this kale and lemon salad!" 

"Oh, I like it too!" 

And there you are, talking with strangers.