A staple of Southern life is eating. A visitor comes over, we eat. Somebody has a baby, we eat. Somebody dies, we eat. Somebody moves next door, we take them something to eat. Summer revival at church, we eat. More specifically, we eat pot lucks. With a multitude of dishes to choose from, pot lucks are one of my favorite (simple) things in life.
In my area of the world, pot lucks are popular. Defined by one main dish, which is usually fried chicken, participants bring any side dish they want. It is not odd to eat fried chicken and lasagna at a pot luck. At one pot luck, one may see creamed corn, green beans, baked macaroni and cheese, lasagna, noodles, and even some awkward whipped topping desert. It’s also not too unusual for three people to bring the same dish. I’ve been to pot lucks where there have been three baked pasta dishes and a vast variety of desert.
The same rules also apply for holiday dinners. For example, for Thanksgiving, one may have the base dish (turkey), but everybody brings a side dish. Dressed eggs, stuffing, turnovers may make appearances, but one may never know what will show up at a typical pot luck. Because of the sheer mystery involved in a church or family pot luck, pot lucks have landed on my list of favorite (simple) things.
Except green beans. I don’t like green beans.