Two weeks ago, I wrote about the perils of summer potlucks: lukewarm condiments, cupcakes made by sticky kids, limp leftovers. The outcry was more frenzied than mosquitoes swarming at a barbecue.
Many of you did agree with me, sharing stories of pet hair found in salads and dirty fingernails combing through salsa. Others disagreed but understood that this was satire. But many were surprised that I dared to question such an iconic tradition, saying that I was a food snob or a germophobe (not true!), had friends who could not cook (false!), did not have children (I have two!), or was a hopeless curmudgeon (maybe).
Several people pointed out that potlucks are an affordable, laidback way to gather friends. Totally legitimate. But that’s not a potluck; that’s a hangout with known guests. A potluck is a communal feast — a large block party, big barbecue, or school-affiliated luncheon where every unknown soul is asked to bring a dish, often with lack of curation and, sometimes, lack of sanitation. In my mind, the hallmark of a potluck is food sitting out for long periods of time with a lineup of grazing guests, all with their own opinions about what constitutes cleanliness.
In that spirit, some gentle suggestions for summertime communal dining might be in order, based upon your feedback.
1. Label your dish. Many respondents lamented that potlucks are nightmarish for people with dietary restrictions due to mystery ingredients or potential cross-contaminants.
2. Assign a menu. If you’re the organizer, it might seem simpler to say “Just bring yourself!’’ or “Bring whatever’s easy!’’ That’s fine if you want to serve three different versions of spinach dip. Be specific: It will take the stress and guesswork off your guests, and it will ensure an eclectic array.
3. There is no shame in store-bought. Communal dining needn’t be stress-inducing. If you can’t or don’t have time to cook, head to Market Basket and throw some finger sandwiches on a plate. If hosting, underscore that bringing premade food is totally acceptable.
4. Avoid mayonnaise. For obvious reasons. Especially when it’s humid.
5. Mind your manners. “I was at an event with a cheese/fruit board this weekend, and the children were fingering all of the fruit, making sure no grape was left without DNA evidence,’’ lamented one respondent. Please, observe communal culinary etiquette. This means: serving small children directly instead of allowing them to plunge their paws into the coleslaw, turning away from food while sneezing or coughing, avoiding the dreaded double-dip, and throwing paper products into the proper receptacle instead of letting them wilt on a folding chair.
6. Keep food and pets separate. This was another biggie. “I had no problems with potluck until I observed people who don’t have boundaries with their pets prepare food. I can’t unsee what I saw,’’ another commenter revealed. Even if you routinely split dinner with your hamster, be cognizant of those who prefer another way.
7. Offer to help with breakdown. Instead of bolting for your car after inhaling the last piece of strawberry shortcake, ask if you might tidy up and brings things inside. That said: Do not take it upon yourself to organize someone else’s fridge. Some hosts prefer to complete this ugly task in privacy, while sipping the last of a gallon bottle of Chardonnay.
8. Look for other ways to chip in. Flowers, an extra set of folding chairs, a killer playlist — the charm of communal gatherings is creativity. Best of all, there’s no prep or cleanup involved.
Kara Baskin can be reached at kara.baskin@globe.com. Follow her @kcbaskin.
