Garage Gourmet: The Art (and Chaos) of the Suburban Potluck
It all started with a folding table and a dream. I decided to host a potluck in our garage—because nothing says “community” like a plastic table next to a weed whacker and a half-deflated beach ball.
But in our small suburban town, where the biggest excitement last week was the garbage truck backing into a mailbox, this potluck had the potential to become the social event of the season.
First, I printed some invitations (read: scribbled notes on sticky pads) and walked door-to-door like a middle-aged Paul Revere shouting, “Bring a dish and a chair!” People were intrigued. A few asked if this was one of those pyramid food schemes. Others wanted to know if there would be Jell-O salad. (Of course. What kind of operation do you think I'm running?)
The day arrived. I swept the garage, shoved the lawn mower behind an old quilt, and strung up some Christmas lights I forgot to take down in 2019. Our suburban garage was transformed into a cozy, slightly flammable banquet hall.
Neighbors came bearing crockpots, casserole dishes, and the occasional mystery Tupperware. There were three versions of taco dip, two lasagnas, and one highly controversial "kale situation" that got politely ignored.
As we lined the tables, I noticed something amazing happening—people were talking. Not just about food, but about their lives. Donna from down the street confessed she’d been watching our dog while we’re away because “he looks bored.” Steve finally admitted he owns the singing bass mounted in his garage (we all knew). And kids, powered by sugar and zero supervision, invented a game called “Wheelbarrow Speedway.”
We laughed. We swapped recipes and phone numbers. We planned a fall chili cook-off and even discussed forming a block text group—just in case someone needs a cup of sugar, or help hauling a suspiciously large rug.
Here’s what I learned: Food is a sneaky little friendship builder. It doesn’t have to be fancy. It just has to be shared. Whether it’s your famous deviled eggs or store-bought cookies “arranged” on a paper plate (we see you, Carl), the meal is just an excuse.
What matters is making space—yes, even a garage—for connection.
So go ahead, clear out the leaf blower, put out the table, and invite your neighbors. Who knew the road to community started with an extension cord and a Crock-Pot?
Written by David L. Burton
MORE INFORMATION
Take the Engaged Neighbor pledge and become part of a movement! The pledge outlines five categories and 20 principles to guide you toward becoming an engaged neighbor. Sign the pledge at https://nomoregoodneighbors.com. Individuals who take the pledge do get special invitations to future events online and in person. Contact the blog author, David L. Burton via emal at dburton541@yahoo.com.
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