It Isn’t Luck if You Can’t “Relinquish Control”
In a vortex of content-stream serendipity, on the heels of a Picnic Panic* attack which led me to the realization that I am not only an angry person (sometimes), I am also an anxious person, did this
horrible brilliant horrible suggestion slither across my desk.
Wow. And I thought I was control freaky. Isn’t that the point of Pot Luck, that no one has to work that hard? We get to be together, on a budget, without slaving out a square meal for 15. And there will be at least one dish you’ll like. If asking a European, “Can I bring anything?” is offensive, how much more so to be the hostess telling people exactly what to bring? Right down to handing out recipes. Seriously? Making something I have succeeded with before is worrisome enough. If one has a circle of friends who would be comfortable taking on an unknown recipe, they can probably be trusted to choose well on their own. Her guest, asked for an appetizer, brought “an enormous platter.” Sounds generous, not a subversive ploy to ruin her dinner. Imagine the terror of being handed a recipe for Vanilla-Scented Blueberry & Nectarine Crisp when what you would have been comfortable bringing was Pigs-in-a-Blanket. There is no shame in Lil’ Smokies and Pillsbury crescent rolls. And all of her guests loved them. Maybe she needs new friends. Or maybe she will after they read her column, especially the one who brought Pigs-in-a-Blanket.
What do you think? Would it be novel and fun to be relieved of the decision what to bring? Might be. Would you host more often if you could still plan the meal, but have help with the prep?
Personally, I’d rather have help with the dishes.
~ ∞ ~ ∞ ~ ∞ ~ ∞ ~ ∞ ~
*An acute case of Potluck Psychosis** due to the increased level of difficulty presented by eating on the ground or other unexpected surfaces. Really, it’s the unknowns, the variables, that worry me. Those and the fact that the meals I make for myself… and, unfortunately for him, the Man… I’m embarrassed to serve to People. They tend to be very healthy, single dish, and generally unattractive. But I do so enjoy my Girls’ Potluck Group, most often with a dessert (I can do sweets), that when I saw …Perfect Potluck in the headline, I was hooked.
**The irrational fear that one’s contribution*** will be unappealing, inedible, ridiculous, or otherwise disastrous and possibly spill all over the car before even arriving
***Potluck seems to be a North American tradition: someone suggests it and everyone brings something to share. That’s why, when invited to dinner, we always ask, “What can I bring?” There is no offense intended, not that the host/ess is incapable of managing, but rather perhaps, our pioneer roots remain and we just want to pitch in. If an American offers Dessert, take it. Anything made with Jello, beware: could be fun****, dangerous, or it could be this.
**** mini marshmallows AND it’s molded