Greta Learns to Be Brave, Then Responsible

Oh, the potlucks. This season precipitates the making and sharing of food like no other. Elsbeth and I were trading stories about food witnessed at these events and her top pick is Mormon Fluff, a.k.a. Ambrosia salad. (Apparently, in Southern Alberta, it is known as the former. Weird.) Green Jello™ mixed with canned fruit cocktail and cool whip; because it’s green, it totally counts as a vegetable. My top pick is a tie between the Mystery Meat Balls that someone always brings in a crock pot swimming in an unidentifiable gravy/BBQ sauce, and Boogers-on-a-Stick, which I have only witnessed once. B.O.A.S. consists of stick pretzels poked into watered-down Cheez Whiz™ made green with food colouring. I tried one on a dare and kind of gagged.

Anyway, Marc and I attended his department’s potluck xmas party last weekend. Everyone was assigned a course and I have to say that the resulting meal was pretty outstanding. There were many cheeses and meats, wine, breads and dips, “junior high” punch, salads, ribs, casseroles, butter chicken (I think), tiramisu, apples with caramel, trifle, cheesecake, cookies and port. And lots of other very good, very insulation-inducing stuff. The award for Out-Fucking-Standing goes to the maker of the slow-cooked spare-ribs whose name I don’t remember but which starts with a ‘V’. Out-fucking-standing, V. People were still eating spare-ribs long after dessert and that is the most telling sign of a potluck winner.

Once the ice was broken, the kids at the party, who were decked out in their xmas finery, all played together amongst the adults (and the not-so-adult). On the way to the party, I’m told that Greta proclaimed that she was very brave and was not shy at all which, it turns out, was a bit of an exaggeration. She was shy but learned to be brave, thanks to Carl and his challenge to a chugging content. Witness: Exhibit A, below.

These two were responsible drinkers because they both sat on their bums to drink, were careful not to spill and didn’t drive home.

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