The Potluck Face Off

So today, I bring you my thoughts on potlucks.

Yes, potlucks.

That age-old gathering of miscellaneous dishes, all competing to be eaten first.

On potluck days, I'm always eager to try a new recipe. Yesterday I got to test a slow-cooker baked potato soup. And it turned out awesome! Potlucks always get me excited. It's purely a challenge for me. After having almost a lifetime record of terrorizing the kitchen, I'm anxious to prove to the world that I can bake, baste, cook, and crockpot the crap out of anything. I know I can boil that record into a complete 180.

I was exhausted the night before. Sharing about six hours at the hospital with a 14 year old friend and her family can do that to you. Don't get me wrong, with all my heart I wanted to be there and I don't regret a single second. I only wish I could have been an even bigger help. (She's fine now, in case you're wondering.)

But as far as cooking goes, the hospital takes away that desire to chop and prepare when you get home at eleven thirty at night and need food ready at eight o'clock the next morning.

So instead of trying to jumpstart my imagination on empty, I rummaged through my crockpot books to find a recipe that matched up to the ingredients in my kitchen as well as my practically-inexistent energy level.

Baked potato soup it is.

Donning my trusty lemon-print apron, I peeled and cubed my potatoes, tossed the simple 6 ingredients into my crockpot, flipped it on high, and flopped into bed. (But no, I didn't go to bed with my apron on.)

The next morning, I woke up to the delicious smell of last-minute potato soup. Ahh, the sweet smell of simplicity. When I took the lid off and peered into the funny looking slop, I wasn't sure it was quite a success. It looked watery and yellowish. Was it supposed to look like that? With no extra time to spare, I prayerfully plopped the rest of the after ingredients in and buckled it in the car to head out.

After setting it on the long table of dishes, it still looked funny to me. But at least it smelled good. I probably should have taste-tested it, but I didn't have time and I didn't think about it.

Boy, did I get lucky!! Somehow, that funny looking soup got a ton of compliments - and that is the only reason I share this soupy story with you. It turned out fantastic - maybe a little salty if I'm being picky, but definitely a yummy one.

When we were all sitting around eating, a friend came up behind me and said, "Your soup is wonderful," right into my ear. It scared the crap out of me because I didn't hear her walk up, but I got a good laugh out of it. My competetive cooking side was not-so-secretly pleased.

Take that, lifetime record. I win this time.