The Last Potluck Supper, part 1, a story

This story just erupted from me on New Year’s Day. I hope you enjoy it. There will be more to come.

The Last Potluck Supper

Some people take food far too seriously.

At the last potluck supper, Madison Filmore had the audacity to bring chicken liver pate with herbed flatbread. Evelyn Rudy couldn’t believe everyone passed up her honey-teriyaki chicken wings just to try a bite of the liver. Only the thinnest scratches and scrapings were left at the bottom of Madison’s fine china bowl. Evelyn had packed her wings in a playful tub. She had leftovers.

That was what happened every time. Anything Madison Filmore put together was gobbled up in an instant. From the simple cocktail meatballs to the elaborate pasta dishes–Madison’s creations always stole the show at the singles’ meetings, otherwise known as the Potluck Supper Symposium. This was bound to happen if you crammed foodies into these singles’ meetings: someone would always come out as queen.

None of those bachelors ever stood a chance in this fierce competition. How could they? The ladies were the ones who were on top of the latest food fads, and all of them shunned the microwave. None of them would have dared to bring canned ravioli, like Jimmy Kradin did one night. All of the guys gobbled it up, but not one person praised the dish as delicious. Well, except for Gladys Thelmona, but she was such a tomboy none of the ladies ever counted her–that bagel-pizza-toting traitor.

This week, Evelyn had a recipe to blow them all away. It would give her status as a creative and marriageable woman in this crowd of singles. The entire way to the dinner she didn’t think about what topic they’d discuss that night at the weekly symposium, but conjured self-deprecating remarks to deflate her swelling pride over this succulent masterpiece of sushi rolls she had prepared and set on a stack of matching white plates. The fried tempera vegetables decorating the edges would would ensure she was the hands-down winner of this unofficial contest of entrees.

Evelyn balanced the dish perfectly on her left palm as she opened the front door and held it with her hip to allow several other friends pass through before her. She loved to practice her waitress skills but hated to divulge how she learned them.

“Is that sushi?” Jimmy Kradin asked, reaching up as if to sample a piece.

Evelyn playfully slapped his hand away. “You’ll wait for it, just like everyone else.”

“I was just going to hold the door for you.” He gave the same mischievous smile he used on the ultimate Frisbee fields.

She ducked away before he could sneak even a straw mushroom off her plates.

The tables were arrayed with a red and white checked cloths. Surely they weren’t pre-gaming Valentine’s Day in the beginning of January. Being a single could be so embarrassing some days. Evelyn blushed as she pulled the plate of sushi closer to her middle and walked toward the buffet table to set it with the other plates.

She gazed at the accompanying dishes, feeling a secret triumph. Someone had brought mini quiche. Madison had just set down her crackers with herbed cream cheese and salmon. No one brought anything quite as exotic as sushi.

She pulled a tube of wasabi paste from her purse and squirted a perfect spiraling green tower beside the pink pickled ginger.

“Do you always carry wasabi in your purse?” His voice was deep and playful, and one she didn’t recognize at all. She didn’t recognize his face either, and at the sight of him across the buffet table, her heart skipped a little beat.

“Hi.” She gave a shy smile. “And no, not always.”

Her gaze followed his arms down to his hands which held a white and red dish with an interesting array of strange purple and green fruit, with a dollop of whipped cream on the side.

“I’m Aiden, by the way. And these are figs. In orange sauce. That’s orange cream.”

Figs? In January? She was beaten. By a bachelor, no less. She tried to form smile in front of her gritted teeth. “I’m Evelyn.”

Figs in Orange Sauce

(This recipe is recommended for August or September, since that’s when figs are fresh, unless you have some growing in your greenhouse. I don’t, but I hope to one day!)

Ingredients:

8 figs, stems removed, cut in quarters
3 oranges
1/2 c. sugar, divided
1 c. whipping cream
1 tbsp finely shredded orange peel
5-6 thing strips of orange peel soaked in sugar water

Method:

Juice the three oranges.
Heat the orange juice in a sauce pan over medium high heat with 1/4 c. of sugar. Stir until the sugar is dissolved.
Add the figs and remove from heat. Cover and let sit for five minutes or more.
Prepare the whipped cream. Add shredded orange peel and sugar.
Spoon the figs out of the sauce pan onto a plate and arrange as desired. Cook the rest of the orange juice in the pan until it’s the consistency of syrup. Drizzle over the figs.
Decorate with the strips of orange peel and dollops of whipped cream.