I don't generally think much of the theory of Platonic Forms (an ideal coke can? really?), but I after today I am convinced that somewhere, floating in the metaphysical ether or what have you, is an ideal church potluck of which all other church potlucks are projections into the material world. It is apparently impossible to have a church luncheon without the presence of potato salad, meatballs (boulettes de viande, though apparently it's not a very French concept - they were brought by a Finnish church member), copious amounts of chicken (here, rotisserie rather than fried), and deviled eggs. The only thing missing was the little-old-church-lady banana pudding, an oversight somewhat ameliorated by the arrival of half a dozen fresh baguettes in the middle of the meal, and all but forgotten after the lemon cream pie. There's also something apparently sacrosanct about the second Sunday of the month and potlucks. It was excellent, and I felt very much at home.