Casserole Caucus - The Power Plays Behind Who Gets Eaten First

They say you shouldn't mix food and politics, but clearly, they've never been to a Southern church potluck. Around here, casseroles decide elections.

A decent bustling potluck is its own scene. There are folding tables groaning under dishes, the hum of small talk, and the silent competition of who brought what. At every potluck, there's an unspoken hierarchy. Some dishes disappear instantly, while others linger untouched and hide off to the sides and the back like they owe everyone money.

The whole thing is a lot like modern-day politics, if we're being perfectly honest. You have your power players that everyone already knows and loves, the underdogs that are jockeying for new attention and a potential pole position, as well as the influencers that try to get you right where they want you. How things eat in the end decides whether you ever trust them again or not.

The Power Players have a known presence and will always make an appearance, whether it's a tiny get-together with a few friends and miscreants that somehow got invited or a massive shindig that someone rented out a hall for.

The first thing you will always see is some version of Mac and Cheese. Let's be real: if your mac and cheese has more than three cheeses, you've already won. Bonus points if it's baked and bubbling. Don't even bring that boxed junk into the territory. You're begging for a lashing with a switch you were forced to pick yourself. This is a potluck, not an assembly line.

Next, you will face that one person who fried chicken either wasn't good enough for, or they watched entirely too much Food Network, and the result was some version of a Chicken Casserole. However, it works. It's one of the few good chicken recycling plants and the queen of the potluck table. If it's creamy, golden on top, and smells like home, it's getting devoured.

Finally, the one dish we all know and love, and it is required by Southern law if you want to be invited back. Banana Pudding is a Dark Horse favorite, and while it's not a casserole, technically, if it shows up, every other dish may as well pack it in.

Of course, the challengers are usually the underdogs that never stand a chance. Bless their hearts, they try, but sometimes folks just can't read the room, and this is what you get.

The first bowl of sin that tries to cast the first stone is that goddamned infernal substance from Hell itself called the Tuna Surprise. You're surprised some idiot still made it and cursed the table with it. It's not a surprise. It's a cry for help! This is the casserole equivalent of running for office with no campaign funds, like that Libertarian who decided to campaign while dressed in warlock robes, attempting to cast a spell for office. Yes, I've literally witnessed this in real-time. He ran for Governor of California.

The next ill-fitted mongrel that tries to get an edge is anything with kale. Bless your hearts. This isn't a yoga retreat; it's a potluck. Like I said before, you have to know your audience.

Finally, in the challenger position, you have the Anti-Puddin' that maintains with pride the Mark of the Beast, and we call that the Mysterious Jello Salad. If it wobbles and has marshmallows, it's going to sit there like a bad third-party candidate. The marshmallows get cold and hard and are, for the most part, a landmine field of gelatin for your teeth. The best thing you will have in your future is a dental bill. It's probably a dentist who brings it in the first place.

If you thought you would be the one to decide what you were eating, you're wrong. The Church ladies are more than something on TV. These ladies run the potluck like a small-town mayor runs an election. If they give your dish the nod, you're golden.

You'll also have to deal with all the gossipers who work in a bloc. They don't just bring food; they bring a following. If Sister Mary likes your casserole, expect an endorsement campaign at the dessert table. She's already told everyone who will listen.

Win over the kids, and victory is yours. They're the wildcards. If it looks fun or forbidden, they'll try it, influencing the adults to follow suit.

There are a few good ways to make sure your casserole wins. Use the good dish, not the scratched-up Tupperware. A casserole in Pyrex commands respect. If your dish is near the sweet tea or the dessert table, it's getting noticed. Nobody misses the drinks and the sweets. It's law.

Write your name on the little card with the dish name. Nothing screams winner like 'Jane’s Famous Hashbrown Casserole.' You want folks to know that you are the master of the bowl, and you can't be placed in laurels of glory if no one knows who the heck you are.

While the politics are fun, there are pitfalls. Be wary of the points when casserole politics go horribly wrong and have the potential to take you down with the ship. Nothing kills casserole momentum faster than Cousin Bobby getting caught dipping his chip in the queso twice. Those double-dippers ruin everything.

Some poor soul always leaves their casserole in the kitchen, only to discover it after the crowd has gone home. You can't eat what you can't see. Remember where I said to put it?

Finally, if someone asks for your recipe, it's either a compliment or a covert way to steal your spotlight next time. Be on your guard and check the source.

In the politics of casseroles, just like in life, it's not always the fanciest or the healthiest that wins. It's the one that brings comfort, nostalgia, and maybe a stick of butter. So next time you prepare a dish, remember: it's not just food. It's your ticket to potluck immortality. And for heaven's sake, leave the kale at home.

At the end of the day, potlucks aren't just about food. They're about community, competition, and who can cheese their way to the top.