It's holiday time and you know what that means?

No, not groping around in a dark closet with your third cousin while everybody's taking a family picture -- you must be from Eutawville.

I'm talking about pot-luck dinners.

Owww, weee!!! There ain't nuthin' like eatin' food outta a mystery kitchen. That's hotter than a dashboard hula dancer.

You know that chick who doesn't wash her hands after she uses the bathroom at work?

I wonder what she made?

Can someone say "flavor"? That gal with the E. coli can. Hey, baby, are those germs on your hands or are you just happy to see me?

See, me for instance, I've got a hacking cough thing going on -- something special to add to The T&D's dinner next week.

Nothing says Christmas like the gift of pneumonia.

The Thanksgiving-Christmas season means a lot of things -- foodwise -- to a lot of folks. My mom's macaroni and cheese. My grandmama's butter beans over rice. Or even pretending to enjoy the "treats" made by my sisters (Pssst, message to my brother-in-laws: Your wives must be stopped before they cook again).

But most of all, it's a special time to clean out our freezer.

Throughout the year I collect what I call "serendipitous dinners." Lots of people have different names for it, but let's say you're travelling down a dark, country road at night and you happen to meet a deer -- with your truck. Or a racoon fails to look both ways when he's crossing the street.

Well, if you're not the picky type who worries about disease, you've got yourself some food.

Or let's say a squirrel gets clumsy jumping from tree to tree. Or a turtle walks by the house.

It's as if fate brought you and protein together.

If only butter beans ran in the wild, I'd be drivin' down Norway Road every night. Bammm!!! I hit it in the ham hock!

But my loving wife will not allow me to cook roadkill -- even possum -- in our kitchen. Nor am I allowed to feed it to our child.

But pot-luck suppers are fine, so long as she's aware which pot is mine.

Enough about me.

Bon appetit, T&D!

T&D City Editor Gene Crider can be reached by e-mail at gcrider@timesanddemocrat.com or by phone at 803-533-5570.

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