You know how your expectations as a host might be quite different to your expectations as a guest? Throw in different social classes, languages and cultures, and you have a heady mix of anxiety and dread the first time you dine with a new friend. I appreciate the approach offered by my Chinese family: Eat, then leave. None of this after-dinner entertainment stuff. Guests are guests and seldom lift a finger to help (or interfere). However, my Western friends have different customs and expectations. For example, the humble potluck. Everyone brings a dish, and most hosts have a rough organizational system worked out wherein guests and host decide who brings what, lest you end up with five cakes and a banoffee pie (best night of my life!) Given dietary restrictions and food allergies and preferences, some planning in advance is always good. Case in point: my daughter is deathly allergic to peanuts, soy and garlic. One bite of kung pao chicken could kill her, so we have a variety of options.
My Chinese friends are a bit befuddled by the concept of a potluck, particularly as I usually ask for them to bring something simple, like pao cai (pickled vegetables, a dish I love and seldom make for myself.) Once they understand that a potluck is an opportunity to try new dishes and still eat something you actually like (usually the dish you brought yourself) it becomes a friendly adventure with tour guides eager to talk about the dish they brought and the customs associated with eating it. Who doesn’t love chili? Chili gets discussions going about chili fries and chili dogs and tail gate parties and why most American men who otherwise do not cook understand the intricacies of chili as if it were a sacred text. Roast beef for Sunday dinner. Hot dish, or a casserole, preferably topped with Tater Tots or crushed potato chips, brings up stories of difficult ends of the month before payday. Mac and cheese! Is it real, or the stuff from a box? My friend J infuses the sauce with jalapeno and uses four different cheeses. Heaven. Sometimes my friends pick at the dishes, sometimes they are devoured. A notable event featured a jambalaya which had all guests, Chinese and foreign, practically fighting over every drop, except for the one guest with a shellfish allergy (whoops.)
When I first started potlucks, Chinese guests were befuddled, wondering when the meal was going to be served and why people were standing over the table, helping themselves to different food, and wandering around, plate in hand, talking to each other. One friend asked me plaintively when we were going to eat. Now my friends are accustomed to this and even stay after the meal is somewhat over in order to play mahjong or chat. Unlike a Chinese dinner, when over is over and everyone gets the hell out, potlucks tend to let people linger until they have enough food digested to go back for a second round on that dish they missed.
A couple of hints: the dish you bring needs to be finished. None of this showing up and telling the hostess, “Now, just pop this into the oven for 35 minutes at 180 degrees while I make the sauce. You do have a double boiler, right? I’ll need that and also a food processor and some very good vodka.” I still think of a guest who insisted on bringing a salad: she showed up two hours late and thrust a bag full of unwashed lettuce and cucumbers at me saying, “Here, you can make the salad now.” Another guest decided to serve Aperol Spritz to everyone and was highly incensed I didn’t just happen to have Aperol, ice, martini glasses, and club soda on hand. Another came half an hour early and insisted that her boyfriend be served dinner immediately as he hadn’t had lunch yet. And never mind the people who decided at that moment to go gluten free (for the record, I always have one gluten-free vegan dish like tamale pie which I keep away from the carnivores until the vegans have a crack at it). But least you think only foreigners are awful guests, let me point out the worst guest I ever hosted was a Chinese co-worker who showed up three hours late and insisted we all help her make over a thousand dumplings, which she then packed up and took to another party. She left one dumpling for each of us to taste, and flour on every surface of my apartment.
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