Church Suppers

FROM WHERE I SIT Church Suppers October 13, 2008




I like to read a variety of area newspapers which post notices for church suppers. Photos flash through my mind of mouth-watering suppers at hometown churches. The ads remind me of how much I enjoyed real mashed potatoes, golden yellow squash, creamy coleslaw, glazed carrots, homemade buns and pies with flaky crusts, sometimes even fruktsoppa (fruit soup) and Julekage (Christmas bread). That’s my kind of supper!



In the fall and into the holiday season, many churches host suppers, waffle breakfasts, chili feeds and noon dinners. Back in the fifties when my family attended these county-wide church suppers, the main course was usually chicken, but roast beef dinners, meat balls, and ham dinners were also available. If you were willing to drive, a luscious meal was available.



Gravy was on every menu. Sugary-laced Kool-aid for the kids and black coffee for the parents were mainstays. Tables covered with white church tablecloths were lined up in the church basements, filled with tiny plates of chocolate, marble, white and spice cake slices as well as wedges of pumpkin, cherry, lemon meringue, apple, pecan, and sour-crème raisin pies, often with a dollop of real whipped cream. Each church seemed to vie for top honors with their fine array of pies and pieces of cake for dessert.



Church dinners were prime campaign spots for county candidates for office. I bet these dinners still attract candidates who want to meet and greet possible voters. It’s a delightful time to gather with neighbors in support of a church, the Boy Scouts, a school or another organization that needs to raise funds to continue its good work.



When my dad was up for re-election at the Pope County sheriff’s office, our family would attend many church suppers throughout Pope County. As I remember, when we parked the car, I could smell the succulent flavors of the tasty meal cooking in the church basement. I always cleaned my plate. But Dad hated having to campaign for office at the church suppers. He enjoyed going out for supper with friends and visiting, but glad handing wasn’t Daddy’s long suit. Short and concise were Dad’s talks to the voters. He felt his record should stand for itself. Buttering up crowds or schmoozing with would-be voters wasn’t his cup of tea. He was a straight arrow kind of guy. He believed his action should speak louder than words, promises so many candidates were great at pontificating. Usually we’d eat, shake a few hands, then leave. I remember Dad referred to Hubert Humphrey as “blabbermouth.” He talked too much.



Notices for those sought-after lutefisk suppers are appearing on grocery store bulletin boards and posted in offices by members sponsoring the event. Annual lutefisk and meatball suppers usually begin in October. I know there is a crowd that anticipates these dinners. Those folks are on a special mailing list to receive annual notices of where the lutefisk will appear and mark those dates on their calendar. Unfortunately, I have a gagging reflex at the thought of lutefisk and butter sliding down my throat. I have the same reaction with oysters. I’ve never been any good at dealing with fishy smells, though I enjoy Friday night fish fries during Lent.



Currently, my favorite holiday smorgasbord is the annual St Lucia dinner, around December 12, sponsored at a community Lutheran church. Scandinavian musicians, dressed in costume, play the fiddle as we wait in long lines at the reception room, drinking punch and nibbling dainty cucumber sandwiches. Piano music accompanies dinner. The servers are dressed in Scandinavian costumes of embroidered caps, black skirts with aprons, red vests, white blouses and fancy Scandinavian pins of silver and gold. Little girls serving sweet Lucia buns in a basket trimmed with red ribbons are lovely in crisp white robes with red sashes and crowns of candles and evergreens. The candlelit tables are draped in white linen cloths, featuring dishes of creamed herring, lefse, lingonberries, fruit soup and cream soup, pickled pickles, rutabaga, Swedish meatballs, Julekage and gravy. They always have my favorite sweet treat table. It’s so hard to choose only one or two: kransekage, rosettes, spritz and sugar cookies, fattigmand, sandbakkels, krumkake, and tiny pastel mints. My plate overflows with sugary treats.



But those extra long church tables of pies are no longer waiting for me to choose my favorite, lemon meringue or pecan pie. When I was a kid, I’d find those tables at the Methodist church on the hill going up to the school. I miss those long tables of tasty treat choices



I haven’t found any fall fundraiser suppers that compare to my festive childhood memories. Maybe they don’t exist any more. Today’s palates are so finicky. My own daughter is a vegetarian! She misses out on succulent roast beef meals smothered with onions, fried chicken with all the fixins, and even the clove spiced ham. However, Kate does enjoy her sweets, especially chocolates. The rest of my family will eat and enjoy everything offered at these tasty dinners. I’m checking today’s paper to see if there’s a church supper in the area this weekend. Hope so. 863 words