Potluck is a competitive sport, at least when it’s done right. ADVERTISING Potluck is a competitive sport, at least when it’s done right. You go to a potluck and you check out the competition. Gail brought some sugar cookies —
Potluck is a competitive sport, at least when it’s done right.
You go to a potluck and you check out the competition. Gail brought some sugar cookies — that’s good, but it won’t be good enough. Gabe made some fried chicken. Everyone likes fried chicken, but no one ever raves about it. Danielle contributed a store-bought carrot cake.
Store-bought? Please. It’s like she didn’t even try.
And then you uncover your dish. You can tell by the delight in some of the guests — and the green-eyed jealousy in others — that you’ve done it. You’ve won the potluck.
It’s a good feeling.
All it takes to win a potluck is a little bit of time and a little bit of effort. If you use the right ingredients, you’re halfway there.
Most potluckers throw something together quickly at the last moment or they make it on the cheap. If a cookie is made with margarine instead of butter, you can be sure it is never going to win.
To truly impress at a potluck, especially if you know that other guests also realize it is a competition, you have to make something that looks as good as it tastes. And that is why, for my first blue-ribbon potluck dish, I turned to the best-looking potluck dish I have ever seen.
It was invented by my wife. We were going to a garden party, which is to say a party for gardeners, and everyone was encouraged to bring a dish with a garden theme. My wife brought a Garden in a Pan.
The bottom layer was refried beans, to represent the dirt. Placed on top of it were colorful rows of chopped vegetables, sour cream, cheese, salsa and guacamole to represent rows of plants.
When scooped up with a tortilla chip, it all made for a delicious, fresh, Tex-Mex dip. It’s kind of like a seven-layer dip, but horizontal.
If you’re truly trying to win at potluck — or if you know someone else is also trying to win — you may have to spend some money. And that means: shrimp.
Shrimp cocktail won’t cut it. Everybody knows shrimp cocktail. Everybody loves shrimp cocktail. But shrimp cocktail is too ordinary.
If you’re going to win with shrimp, you’ll have to go big — like the big flavors you find in Spiced Shrimp.
The flavors are actually simple: garlic, salt, cayenne pepper, paprika, olive oil and lemon juice. But when you put them all together and make sort of a paste to cover the shrimp, that’s when you get something notable.
When guests ask you for the recipes, be sure to hand it to them with all the modesty you can muster. Winners never gloat.
Garden in a pan
Yield: 12 servings
1 1/2 (16-ounce) cans or 2/3 (31-ounce) can refried beans
1/2 cup guacamole
1/2 cup salsa, drained
1/2 cup shredded Mexican-style cheese
1/4 cup chopped red onion
1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 cup chopped tomatoes
1/4 cup chopped scallions
1/4 cup sliced black olives
1/2 cup chopped orange bell pepper
Chives, optional
Spread the refried beans evenly across the bottom of a 9-by-13-inch pan. Make thin rows lengthwise down the pan of guacamole, salsa, cheese, red onions, sour cream, tomatoes, scallions, olives and orange peppers, to resemble a garden. If desired, cut chives in half and stick them in clumps between rows to look like a fence or other plants. Serve with tortilla chips.
Recipe by Mary Anne Pikrone.
Spiced shrimp
Yield: 6 to 8 servings
1 large clove garlic
1 tablespoon coarse salt
1/2 teaspoon cayenne
1 teaspoon paprika
3 or 4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
2 teaspoons fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1 1/2 to 2 pounds shrimp, peeled
Lemon wedges
Mince garlic with salt; mix with cayenne and paprika, then make into a paste with 2 tablespoons of the olive oil and lemon juice. Smear paste on shrimp.
Put the remaining 1 tablespoon of the oil in a large nonstick pan or 2 tablespoons in a large regular pan, and heat over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the shrimp and cook, stirring frequently, until done, about 3 to 5 minutes depending on their size. Serve hot, at room temperature or cold, with lemon wedges.
Recipe adapted from the New York Times.