The whole community coming together to share a big ol' bowl of boondock salad is a short-held tradition that's been going on for well over four years. Attempts are being made this year to zazz up the proceedings, and create new traditions that, it is hoped, will continue well in to the latter half of this decade.
Temps perdu, the boondock salad was made piecemeal by everyone in the village, dumped into a big bowl, and it was hoped that the seasoning balanced out. Temps nowdu and futuredu, it will be made by some stupid bitch whose cooking no-one likes, but who shouts quite loudly. She's going to be killed off in a couple of years whilst on holiday in Switzerland. The coroner's verdict will be death by misadventure, as a result of inhaling too much muesli dust. Whoever manages to create the most suspicion that they were the killer without being formally charged with her murder will become the chief salad maker until it is decided he or she should be killed off in this community snuff theatre. (Two-thirds majority, and an unfeasibly large quorum required, so killing will be rare, earned and appreciated. If they're nice and cook well, they live, if not they die; at least you know where you stand).
Another first-time tradition is the protein hunt. The hunter has his or her left arm shaved up to, but not including, the armpit. If the fingers are found to be hairy, they are plucked and a slap to the face is administered. The hairless arm is washed, rinsed and dried, and its owner is called upon to place it in the big ol' bowl of boondock salad. If he (women are given a penis for the day just so I don't keep having to say "he or she") responds to the call, he places it in the big ol' bowl of boondock salad. If he doesn't respond to the call, they shout louder, poke him, write it down on a piece of paper, just do whatever is needed to get through to this fool that he should be putting his arm in the big ol' bowl of boondock salad. If it takes more than thirty seconds for the hunter to put his arm in, he'll be killed before next year's event - that's not written down anywhere, it's just understood.
Once the arm is in, the protein hunt begins. This first year it's a lump of cheese. In the future it might be nuts, a bit of meat, egg whites, or egg white substitute. Problem: if all the egg white substitute isn't all scooped up, anyone involved becomes a sex offender if the boondock salad is eaten by someone unaware of the protein hunt, a child, or a family pet begging for scraps. Obviously sexual offences aren't good things, but this is a tradition that's been going on for year. By the time it comes round to being egg white substitute's turn, it's a tradition that will have been going on for years. Lawyers are looking into finding a loophole.
If the hunter gets his armpit hair wet from the boondock salad before he finds the protein, he's to be hung. A noose is placed around his neck, and a chair beneath a tree is kicked away. If they've remembered to do things properly, the noose is attached to the tree, and he's on the chair. He's given a chance to live: he's given a saw with which he may saw through the rope. The sport comes in him trying to hold the rope at first so that the drop doesn't snap his neck, whilst trying not to drop the saw. Once he's got past the early danger, it's plain sailing, as asphyxiation takes far longer than it does for even a panicking man to saw through a rope. It's expected that most people will live.
Granted, death and potential sexual offences seem rather over the top, but it does bring a community together, and it is the way it will have always been done.