A POT LUCK KIND OF LIFE

I could be in the worst mood, I could be so fatigued that I yawn every 90 seconds, I could resemble the Bride of Frankenstein, but if there is a pot luck and news of it has reached my ears, you can bet you will see me there, ready to be made instantly happier and renewed.

Pot lucks are an all-you-can-eat meets new recipes to be discovered. Heaven, to me.

This past Saturday afternoon - another typical sports-absorbed Saturday afternoon - we made it to a team party/pot luck where everyone from total strangers to friends of mine for 20+ years brought their best, homey, tried-and-true, most popular or requested, got-history-behind-it dishes.

This (see below) is how I prefer to get to know people, better.

Sure, I'm curious about how you met your spouse, and yes, I do believe we both had Ms. Nichols for English, didn't we...but more importantly, is that a homemade lime vinaigrette orCatalina dressing on your taco salad?

Because I LOVE it, and all of a sudden, I feel more comfortable with you than, like, ever.

And maybe I'm just a little bit awkward integrating certain circles where the conversations have gotten very involved without me, but by the way, who made that corn, black bean and tomato salad? Can I just interject for a sec and tell you how wonderful it is with fluffy jasmine rice, jumbo prawns poached with with sliced lemons and a bit of sugar and excessive cilantro?

I don't blame you for looking at me like I'm a little loca for getting so excited over a side dish, or that I am rude for interrupting , but honestly, I just can't help my food-obsessed behavior. If it's standard, unobtrusive conversation you require, gentle segues that keep you in your comfort zone - the weather, the record of our local football team, or plans for the holiday break - my husband fulfills this normal part of our union very well, and he's right over there, waiting for me to finish eating before he even approaches the buffet.

Because at pot lucks, I'm on a mission to try everything in a Pyrex, a Tupperware bowl, or on a portable melamine platter. A spoonful of these pickled vegetables, a reasonable portion of that pico de gallo, and maybe one smallish brownie, and I'm not stuffed, but filled with a blessed amount of different, but local, flavors.

Wow, I've known you for years and had no idea you had this treasure of a family recipe in your archives. Good to know.

What a delicious opportunity to learn history and common ground, a pot luck. Kind of like the team our children play on together, we all bring something different to this table, don't we?

I brought the blondies, they're my girlfriend Karrie's recipe. I was going to make regular brownies, but either I ran out of cocoa powder or I wanted to be a non-conformist, I can't remember.

Used to be, when the pot luck was over, I had scribbled down how to make this or that, dictated by so-and-so, or asked someone to e-mail me a recipe, pretty please, I appreciate it.

Many pot lucks later, I am able to analyze certain dishes visually, or maybe inquire about one specific ingredient before I attempt to re-create the pot luck dish someone brought with which I fell immediately in love.

I'm an experienced, skilled home cook.

If only I were so savvy in social circles.

KARRIE'S KILLER CHOCOLATE CHIP BLONDIES

1 1/2 cups brown sugar

1/2 cup melted butter

2 eggs, beaten

1 tsp vanilla

1 1/2 cups flour

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 cup chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 350. Melt butter in a big bowl in the microwave. Once melted, add to the bowl the brown sugar, eggs, and vanilla and mix until blended. (I use a hand mixer for this quickie job.) Add baking powder and salt. Mix again. Add flour. Mix yet again. Stir in chocolate chips. Spread into a greased 9x13 pan and bake for 18-20 minutes.

...that's Karrie's recipe, verbatim.