If you’re like most normals, you’ll do just about anything to avoid a potluck. This bizarre tradition of foisting one’s leftovers on the rest of the community refuses to die, and like a recurrent and pernicious staph infection, potlucks manifest in churches, classrooms and work-place cafeterias, kept alive by joyless prigs who hate to see people actually enjoying their food.
At Promethean Times, we don’t like potlucks any more than you do, and avoid them whenever possible. But in those rare instances when we’re unable to beg off such engagements, we find that by employing the Promethean Times Potluck Method,™ an unpleasant time is made ever-so-slightly more bearable. For those masochistic few who enjoy potlucks, why not stop reading now, and instead check out that Murder She Wrote marathon on the Hallmark Channel?
First of all–don’t cook! Unless you’re able to cook something of extremely limited appeal but which you enjoy (see below), you’re better off buying something from the supermarket and then putting it on a paper plate. Expending more than a minimum effort defeats the purpose of the Promethean Times Potluck Method.™
To determine which foodstuffs to bring to the potluck, try to identify an edible which you enjoy, but which is not preferred or (better) actively disliked by the other potential potluck attendees. Smaktakula prefers to bring kalamata olives.
Thanks to your wise food choice, you’ll be able to eat any of the dishes provided by more conscientious attendees, all the while urging others to “Try my home-cured olives–I think they’re pretty good for my first try. The brine almost seems to dance across your taste buds. Saltylicious!” If you’ve chosen correctly, they’ll have nothing to do with your food, and you’ll have plenty of leftovers to bring home.
More sensitive types may worry that their actions will be noticed. This is inevitable. As the person who brings pickled pigs’ feet to the party time after time, you’re going to attract attention. However, your craftiness will appear as nothing more than eccentricity when juxtaposed with those few folks who, inevitably, bring nothing. You’ve always got a leg up on those cheap fuckers.