To say that Frisco Sunday Suppers began on a whim is slightly disingenuous, but it’s not exactly far from the truth, either. I’d prefer to say it was divine inspiration coupled with some strange coincidental timing, but, once again, that’s not exactly true yet not exactly not, as well.
I’d say it’s all more in the middle, a little bit of this and a little bit of that. But what we ended up with? Well, that’s the good part.
Let’s start with 2020, shall we? This unbelievably strange hornet’s nest of a disaster year with Coronavirus, shutdowns, politics, and riots. It’s been fun, right? Or maybe not at all.
That’s more like it.
During the shutdown, things got dicey, fast. At least for me. I found myself cocooning, circling the wagons and pulling in really tight around my family, probably in a subconscious desire to keep them safe and also to feel safe myself. Which is great and all, but it got unhealthy, FAST. I missed connection and people and socializing and really, just chatting with the cashier at Target. But what got really scary was when I stopped missing all of this. When I started thinking “Gee, I wonder if I can live like this forever? It’s not so bad.”
That’s when things got weird. Emotionally.
I got skewed and depressed and anxious. Everyone in my house was wound up like a jack in the box, ready to pop off at any moment. There was a lot of tension and almost no release. The only way we were connecting with anyone at all outside of our four walls was online. Which, at least at the beginning of quarantine when everyone was all “Rah! Rah! Rah! We’re all in this together!” cheerleaders, felt comforting. Good, even. But then, as all things 2020 seem to do, it also got weird. Emotionally.
Because online is a strange place, y’all. I know this is my medium and my job and all, but none of that changes the fact that the anonymity of the interweb does humankind no favors. That early covid cheerleading, yeah, that went away, didn’t it? Quickly replaced with people ripping each other apart over masks or no masks, politics, school or no school, politics, shutdown versus reopen, or, you guessed it, politics. And the internet quickly turned into a you-know-what-show.
So here we are, in 2020, feeling weird and disconnected. Everyone is on edge. Feeling isolated. Grumpy. And also probably a few pounds overweight. (or maybe that’s just me).
But then I got a cookbook from the library. Just a random, off-the-shelf grab because the picture was pretty and I didn’t have the time to really pay attention to what I was checking out (cause COVID library shopping is a lot different, now, y’all). This book just happened to be called See You On Sunday by a guy named Sam Sifton. Which just happened to be about Sunday gatherings.
You know the kind, right? Like church suppers or community dinners where everyone from the crazy cat lady who people think might also be a celebrity in hiding, to the mayor, comes to eat? Remember those? They used to be a staple of communities across the nation but have somehow disappeared into the wayside with the likes of landline telephones and scripted tv shows.
Coincidentally, at this same exact time, I happened to be working my way through the book of John, my favorite book of the Gospel, and I came to that poignant moment by a campfire where Jesus tells Peter to feed His sheep. Twice.
And just like Gru in Despicable Me (if you know, you know) I had a major LIGHTBULB moment.
Because I can feed His sheep. It’s honestly, like, one of the only tangible things I can do. I am not a pastor who knows what to say or how to say it. I’m not an expert on, really, anything. But I can feed the heck out of you and use my table as my ministry to everyone, no matter who they are. That’s what I can do.
And, from there, friends, Frisco Sunday Suppers was born.
But what the heck IS Frisco Sunday Suppers?
It’s a community dinner where everyone is invited. I make a huge pot of something yummy to share, and we all sit down in my backyard and eat. No strings attached.
That’s the Sunday Supper in a nutshell.
But what is it really? Well, it’s a chance for people to meet new people from within their own community. It’s a chance for people to gather in the completely non-threatening yet completely face to face act of breaking bread.
It’s friends and strangers, people I know, and people I don’t. It’s not awkward at all, which might surprise you given that I’m often the only common thread among the attendees. Sure, there are the first uncomfortable social moments of, “Hi, I’m…. and you are…” but then the conversation seems to just flow. At the first one, we moved quickly through some strange territory–from favorite Frisco restaurants to Netflix shows, from kids sports to water buffalo hunting.* And it felt easy and right. It felt like community.
And that is what we all need right now, maybe more than anything.
So I’m not sure what the future holds for this little Supper thing, but what I do know is that people really really responded. There was so much interest in the first one that there was a waiting list. It’s shaping up to be the same for the second. It’s clear from the support and excitement around these suppers that we know, somewhere deep down inside, that people really do need people. We need to meet new people, connect with people, and get outside of our comfort zones as much as we can. It’s not really a ministry thing, because I am not here to shove Jesus down your throat, but you can sure as heck bet that it’s my ministry to do this.
It’s the only answer I have to the weirdness of 2020. I’m not going to fix the world or create world peace, but I am going to continue to bring my community together with the only tool I have in my toolbox–FOOD. So please, if you’re local and want to come to gather with us, follow along on the Sunday Supper social for updates on registrations, times, and dates. I’d love to serve you.
Sunday Supper Pasta-A Dish To Feed A Crowd
But y’all want to know what I served on the first Sunday Supper, don’t you? Well, Sunday Supper Pasta, of course. Reminiscent of the good old church spaghetti supper days, I brought out a hearty meat sauce over penne, a green salad, and, arguably the winner of the evening, my grandmother’s bread pudding. It was so simple yet so incredibly perfect. It fed the crowd (13 total) and everyone loved it.
I adapted the recipe from one of Sam Sifton’s pasta sauce recipes in the See You on Sunday book, adding my own special ingredients and then doubling it to feed the crowd. It’s a hearty sauce so it needs a hearty pasta, so don’t go breaking out the linguine for this one. It needs a short pasta to hold up against it. And be sure, when you combine the sauce with the pasta that you reserve some of that ever-loving liquid gold pasta water to help them connect and make beautiful pasta music before you serve it up. To do so, just combine pasta with the sauce over medium-low heat and stir continuously, adding the pasta water a tablespoon at a time until the pasta is coated.
Please use this recipe to gather with friends. Make it your own, taste as you go. And for the love of all that is holy, get out from behind your keyboard and meet people. Even if you have to wear a mask and do it safely (we did, by the way). The only way we’re going to survive right now is if we start connecting. It’s our only hope.
Peace, love, and supper,
Meg
*There was an actual conversation around water buffalo hunting. And it was awesomeness.
Please Follow Frisco Sunday Suppers on Facebook (it’s a FB group so you have to request access) and Instagram for more information and to stay in the loop.
Sunday Supper Pasta
Ingredients
- 2 onion, finely diced
- 8 cloves of garlic, peeled and minced
- 2 pounds Italian Sausage
- 2 pounds ground beef
- 2 6 ounce cans tomato paste
- 2 cinnamon sticks
- 1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
- 4 teaspoons dried basil
- 2 teasooons dried oregano
- 2 teaspoons sugar
- 2 28 ounce cans crushed tomatoes
- red wine (a hefty pour--roughly 1/4 cup)
Directions
- Step 1 In a large, wide-bottomed stockpot, pour a hefty glug of olive oil and heat to shimmering.
- Step 2 Add the onion and cook, stirring often, 2-3 minutes or until softened. Salt and Pepper.
- Step 3 Add garlic and cook, stirring constantly, 30 seconds or until fragrant.
- Step 4 Add meat and cook, using a spatula to break up as you go, until browned.
- Step 5 Drain fat (I usually reserve a little bit in the pan for flavor)
- Step 6 Add tomato paste and, using the spatula, work it into the meat mixture until it is dark red and completely incorporated.
- Step 7 Add all the spices, rubbing the dried basil and oregano quickly in your hands to release the oils.
- Step 8 Stir to combine.
- Step 9 Add tomatoes, wine, salt, and pepper.
- Step 10 Bring to a quick boil and then reduce heat to low, simmering for 30 minutes to an hour or until flavors are combined.
- Step 11 This can be made up to two days in advance. Store in the fridge until ready to use and then gently reheat, adding splashes of broth if it needs more liquid.
- Step 12 Serve over pasta, combining cooked pasta and sauce in the pan over low heat, adding splashes of pasta water to help them marry.
- Step 13 Don’t forget to remove the cinnamon sticks before serving.
- Step 14 Enjoy!
Welcome to BurntToast! My name is Meaghan, and this is my safe space, a place where we can share stories, share recipes and share life. It’s my dream that you can come here, kick your shoes off and pour yourself a glass of wine while you read, laugh, and maybe even hop into the kitchen. This is my heart, for all of you to see. And ALL are welcome here.