Keeping the Peril out of Potlucks

The timeless and inelegant potluck dinner does not come naturally to everybody. Sophisticated urbanites might frown at the sight of 3 competing bean salads on the same table; Persons of sensitive palate might shudder at the thought of hummus served alongside lasagna; Germ-phobes might clutch their sides imagining the potential viral load of so many co-mingling dishes. Yes, a modern mother can be forgiven for imagining that the potluck supper falls firmly in the territory of graduate students, subscribers of Good Housekeeping, and anyone who likes to make casseroles requiring Campbell’s condensed soup. And yet, the potluck remains a surprisingly enjoyable staple of many parenting circles, so we would like to offer a few thoughts on “best practices” for this most unusual of parties.

(1) Aside from the obvious admonition to R.S.V.P. and give the hostess a vague idea of what you would like to contribute (appetizer, side dish, etc.), it just doesn’t matter what you bring. If you say you’ll bring dessert, make some brownies, buy a cake, whatever. Even if you take the time to bake your grandmother’s famous cherry pie, chances are, it may end up with the serving utensil from the orzo salad stuck into it, so don't knock yourself out. Its about the company, not the food.

(2) Bring your contribution in a dish ready to serve, with the appropriate utensil to serve it. You don’t want to spend the party searching for the hostess to ask for a utensil, or worse searching her kitchen yourself – she might be busy searching for the punch bowl she never uses, or even swilling a glass of Prosecco and enjoying herself.

(3) When the party is done, pack your dish and utensil and take them home, as is. An old tote bag, a plastic grocery sack, whatever you brought your dish in, should suffice. If you feel the hostess might like the left-overs, gently inquire about her preference, "I would love to wrap these up for your fridge, or would it be easier if I just took them home?" Our guess is that sparing the hostess of washing the dish and tracking you down to return it might just be the best hostess gift you could offer her.

In no time at all, the modern mother will be navigating the potluck with ease, and probably even enjoy herself. She is under no obligation, however, to follow up by donning a hair net and apron, taking up crochet, or joining a quilter's circle. Even ironically.

Barbarians at the Plate

As discussed previously, passable table manners in children are not achieved without tremendous effort. Thus, when the well mannered modern mother is at last ready to introduce her little dears to the world of out-of-the-home dining the last thing she needs is the Visigoths charging into the Forum leaving a trail of carnage and destruction in their wake. In other words, as a delightfully well mannered friend recently asked 'What can you do when you have taken your generally well behaved children out to eat with another family only to discover that their progeny are not even acquainted with the basics of civilized dining?' While obviously making a mental note to “never do this again” the well mannered mother still needs to get through the next 45 minutes. Or not. In such a case the well mannered no-nonsense-mother has every right to give her own children two very clear warnings and at the third offense bundle them home (paying the bill whether her food has arrived or not) to a dinner of pb&j.

If she chooses to remain and fight the good fight she should focus on the basics - keeping her children seated and speaking at a reasonable volume. The exception, of course, is al fresco dining in which case they are welcome to play on the lawn before and after the meal arrives. Assuming there is no fresco and the other children are tearing around the restaurant, making inappropriate noises, throwing rolls, putting straws up their noses and quoting the Black Eyed Peas while the other mother is sipping her slow gin fizz studiously ignoring her terrific children – what then? In such a scenario the well mannered mother can hardly expect her children to be impervious to such wild temptation. Instead of shrieking like a Harpy or getting into it with her 'friend' the best a well mannered mother can probably do is quietly remind her children what is expected of them and point out that there are other people in the restaurant trying to have a nice dinner. The sirens’ call of dessert might also have some effect. Other than that, breathe, have a glass of prosecco and promise yourself you will never ever, ever go out to dinner with those children again. As for your own children, remember, Rome wasn’t built in a day and you should have them back in shape in a month or two.