As dictated by u/velvet42, this floor is “The Magical (Mostly Upper-) Midwestern Perpetual Potluck”
You step into a large room that feels simultaneously huge and roomy and small and cozy. The ceilings are low, the walls wood-paneled, the floors concrete. It’s like walking into an old and also seemingly endless basement. There are large rugs, ovals and rectangles, most look handmade, strewn here and there for decoration and comfort.
If you look to your left, you see a number of folding card tables, each with 4 metal folding chairs around them. If you look to your right, you see a number of large rectangular metal folding tables, each covered in a vinyl tablecloth and each covered in food. Each of these sides stretches into the distance in front of you. You think you can make out the far wall down there a ways, but every time another group shows up with their contribution to the potluck, it somehow seems farther and farther away o_O
Let’s start with something to drink. On the other side of the tables to the left, right along the wall, you see that there are evenly spaced bars/beverage stations. You can grab pretty much anything you can think of to drink here, someone will surely have brought a case along with them. Coolers full of never-melting ice sitting on the floor next to each bar hold cans and bottles of soda, beer, and water and each bar is fully stocked. Regional specialties abound, like Sprecher sodas and Karben4 beers. Some guys from Chicago brought a bunch of Malort to troll the unaware out-of-towners. If you’d prefer, a guy who’s assigned himself resident bartender, and who looks suspiciously like Charlie Berens, will be happy to mix you something. He specializes in Bloody Marys, Mimosas, and Brandy Old-Fashioneds. He’s also the one to ask if you want to buy a ticket for the meat raffle
When you want to grab a plate, you’ll find a wide variety of food here. One thing you’ll notice is that there are a lot of dishes originating from various European countries, each with more or less of an American spin depending on the cook. You can’t throw a rock here without hitting someone who inherited a recipe book from an immigrant grand- or great-grandmother, and those are usually a favored choice to bring to a potluck. You’ll see family recipes for Cheese spätzles, lasagnas, pierogies, brisket, and more. A bunch of Minnesotans brought Lutefisk. You’ll find homemade kolaches, baklava, kringle, and cannoli among the more stereotypical apple and cherry pies.
Scattered throughout these, you’ll also see a lot of traditional Midwest potluck staples. There will be several variations on a Hotdish, most with tater tots, and at least a couple tuna casseroles. Several varieties of mac and cheese will be available, at least one made with beer, and there will be 3 or 4 identical green bean casseroles. At least a couple people will have brought their grandma’s Ambrosia salad, and several more will have some variation on a jello salad. Interestingly, almost every table seems to have a bottle of ranch dressing on it, regardless of what else is there
Here and there you’ll see a specialty table set up. One has a variety of venison sausage and jerky. One is a perpetual Fish Fry, with beer-battered catch of the day serving up 24/7. There are three tables dedicated to pizza: The one from Chicago with their thin crust, square cut and the one from Detroit with their rectangular pan pizza are trading insults over whose is better, meanwhile most of the out-of-towners go for the third table with the deep dish :/ Another group from Chicago set up a hot dog and beef stand, while a group from Wisconsin set up a table for beer brats and various local cheese, including fried cheese curds. More recent waves of immigration can be seen in the tables offering up homemade tamales, spring rolls, and shawarma
Once you’ve had your fill, you’re then obligated to perform the Midwest Ritual of Good-bye. It starts off by slapping both hands on your thighs while saying “Welp, I s’pose…” and then proceeding to get sucked into various conversations on your way to the door for the next 1-4 hours. You don’t need to feel like you’re in a hurry to try everything all at once, because not only are we here serving up our potluck all day every day, each stop on your way out the door will result in one more Cool Whip container full of leftovers that someone will insist you bring home with you. When (or if) you finally get to the door (the phrase “Ope, lemme scooch right past ya” will come in handy here), the last thing you hear is the bartender shout out “Say hi to your folks for me and watch out for deer!”
(I tried to be as Midwest-inclusive as I could, but my experiences in northern Illinois and south-central Wisconsin did color my description throughout. I welcome anyone and everyone to add a table and/or cooler for their own regional specialties – that’s what a potluck is all about!)
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