Midwest potlucks may appear casual. Alas, they are not.
They are governed by a complex set of unwritten rules enforced through church basements, community centers, and the collective judgment of women named Barb.
For those unfamiliar with the system, here are the official rules.
Rule #1: "Just Bring Yourself" Is a Lie
Nobody has ever meant this.
Ever.
When a Midwesterner says, "Just bring yourself," what they really mean is:
"Bring yourself and some form of carbohydrate."
Showing up empty-handed is how you end up the topic of a parking lot conversation.
Rule #2: The Number of Desserts Must Exceed the Number of Main Dishes
This is non-negotiable.
If 20 people are attending, there should be at least 14 pans of bars, three pies, brownies, cookies, and something involving Cool Whip.
Nobody knows why this is. It's just the law.
Rule #3: At Least One Dish Must Be Called a Salad Despite Having No Business Being Called a Salad
Potato salad? Fine.
Pasta salad? Acceptable.
A mixture of whipped topping, marshmallows, crushed pretzels, fruit cocktail, and vague family traditions?
Apparently also a salad.
The Midwest has stretched the definition of “salad” beyond all recognition.
Rule #4: Never Trust the Person Who Says Their Dish Isn't Good
The worse someone claims their food is, the better it usually tastes.
"Oh, it's not my best work."
"The recipe didn't turn out quite right."
"I almost didn't bring it."
Translation:
Prepare to have a religious experience with these cheesy potatoes.
Rule #5: There Is Always One Person Who Brings Store-Bought Cookies and Feels Guilty About It
"I didn't have time to make anything."
Relax, Jennifer. Nobody cares.
In fact, your Oreos are probably safer than whatever unidentified gelatin-based experiment is sitting three feet away.
Rule #6: Nobody Is Allowed To Take The Last Piece
The final brownie may remain untouched for hours.
Everyone wants it. Nobody will claim it.
Taking the last piece without first offering it to six other people is considered a hostile act.
Rule #7: Somebody Will Bring A Dish That Requires A Detailed Explanation
"What is it?"
"Well, it's kind of a casserole."
No one has any idea what that means.
The explanation will include at least six ingredients you've never considered combining and one sentence that begins with:
"My grandmother used to make this..."
At some point you stop listening and just put a spoonful on your plate out of respect.
Rule #8: The Recipe Is Secret
You can ask. But you will not receive it.
You'll get instructions like:
"A little bit of this."
"A splash of that."
"Bake until it looks right."
Doris is taking that recipe to the grave.
Rule #9: the best cook in the room is never announced
No trophy is awarded and no vote is taken.
Yet everyone knows exactly who it is.
The proof is simple: When her dish hits the table, people suddenly develop a sense of urgency.
Nobody rushes the vegetable tray. Nobody sprints toward the dinner rolls.
But when THAT casserole arrives? It's every Midwesterner for themselves.
Rule #10: The Container You Bring Home Will Not Be The Container You Brought
This is simply how the ecosystem works.
You arrive with a Pyrex dish.
You leave with a faded plastic container, a lid that fits nothing, and somebody else's serving spoon.
Rule #11: Leftovers Are Mandatory
It does not matter if enough food remains to feed a minor nation.
Someone will still say:
"We almost didn't have enough."
This statement must be made while standing next to twelve pounds of uneaten potato salad.
Rule #12: Nobody Knows Who Owns Anything
The crockpots. The serving spoons. The pie server. The extension cords.
Ownership ceased years ago. These items now belong to the community.
Rule #13: If You Leave Hungry, It's Your Own Fault
A Midwest potluck is the only place where people simultaneously tell you:
"Don't overeat."
and
"You hardly ate anything."
Rule #14: Someone Will Try To Send You Home With Food
It doesn't matter if you don't want any or your refrigerator is full. You are leaving with a foil-covered plate.
Accept it. Resistance is futile.
If society ever collapses, potluck ladies will rebuild it.
Within 48 hours there will be a sign-up sheet.
Within 72 hours there will be coffee.
Within a week there will be three casseroles, seven desserts, and enough food for forty-seven more people than were invited.
As is tradition.