Pablo’s Potluck party
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Flash forward 15 years and I remember a different type of
Potluck dinner parties that I attended.
I must have been in my early 20’s and I remember making a pot of my
Dad’s famous chili recipe, and placing the still hot crock pot down on the
buffet table with slight embarrassment.
I looked at the table and saw only covered plastic platters of cubed cheese
or pre-cut vegetables that still had the grocery store label on it. I saw unopened bags of tortilla chips and
jars of El Paso salsa. I saw Cheddar
cheese flavor popcorn bags, family size Doritos, and 2 liter bottles of coca
cola. The closest thing I saw to fresh
food was a 6-foot subway sandwich that was cut into small wedges accompanied by
a quart of deli macaroni salad. Was this dinner? Was this real food? Where
were the Corning Ware dishes? Where were the aromatic casseroles? Why was I the only one who thought potluck
meant homemade? What happened to the potluck memories I had growing up?
Flash forward again, to my most recently attended potluck
party, which took me a little by surprise considering I haven’t heard the term
“potluck” in almost a decade now. My
good friend Pablo, held a pre-Thanksgiving potluck party in the West Village
last night, and I haven’t stopped smiling since. It reminded me of potluck parties of
yesteryears, (like the ones my parents threw), where people actual took time in preparing a well thought out home
cooked meal. The difference about this potluck party was the transformation of dishes
of today. Rather than beef chilies and
meat stews or braised sausage and peppers, there was a wide array of delightful
options for all eating styles. There was
a fresh baked vegetarian lasagna, split pea soup, Kale and beet salad, faro
salad with butternut squash and wild mushrooms, steamy saffron rice with
chicken, simmering herbed cannellini beans, spiced turkey pie with flaky crust,
fresh cheeses and baked breads, warm pies and to boot a big bowl of fruit
filled sangria! I spent the entire night
circling the kitchen island like a vulture, refilling my plate subtly every 15
minutes or so. I was chatting with old
friends and new friends I met that night, mostly talking about how tasty
everything was. It brought back the
meaning of a potluck, where you experienced everyone’s tastes, personalities
and food they cooked from the heart, not something that was picked up at a deli
on the way down.
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