Some of the food, it must be said, [i]is [/i]great. You host a big public gathering of any kind and at least a few people are going to stay up all night cooking just to flex on everyone else - that's as human as cooking itself. But the main event is the Expiration Date Potluck. People bring in any ingredients they have that are walking close to the expiration date line and a large outdoor kitchen full of volunteers figure out what they can make with it. Anything that isn't usable goes into feed buckets for children to throw to the pigs at the petting zoo.

The potluck has a reputation for being exotic. One of the most common ways foods go bad is if someone gets something experimental, outside of their normal cooking range, and then they either can't figure out how to use it or realize too late that they don't like it. It makes its way to the back of the cupboard and then waits there, accumulating months, passing from the mind. It's not anyone's fault, people just like avoiding their problems. That's why it's important to have the potluck; it's the short-circuit that stops the feeling from resolving into shame and regret.

"The commitment to recycling," Caster murmured. His voice came as a surprise, like a ghost's. "Is this land as poor as Adam said? That you have so little that every scrap must be saved and repurposed?"