My fingers are stained orange, my kitchen is a mess and my stomach aches from laughter!
It all started when I was asked how I could see myself being involved in parish masses. I can’t read in front of an audience without going several shades of scarlet. My singing voice is curtailed to solo car journeys and the bathroom. My midweek is spent trying to balance the running of a house, ensuring the kids go off to school in clean uniforms and working part-time as a nurse. There’s not a lot of me left to give on those mid-week evenings. When Brendon mentioned starting a supper club after the monthly Saturday evening “Family Mass” it appealed to me and I found myself agreeing to be a part of this new group.
The email arrived in my inbox in April and I saw my name down with Jo for one of the first of these evenings. It was called “Soup night” I’ve only ever made soup once. It was carrot and coriander. No-one died after eating it so I decided that for the safety of my fellow parishioners “tried and tested” was the way to go. Being the first friends to run one of these soup nights was both scary because we had no-one to ask advice of, but also fun because we had no-one’s legacy to live up to!
I rang Jo and we discussed how we would run the evening. We agreed to each make a different batch of soup and split the cost of some fresh bread that Jo would buy in Woolies on the Saturday morning. Saturday afternoon was spent in the kitchen, peeling, topping and tailing a mountain of carrots. Aaaargghhh, no onions in the fridge, a quick dash to Rathmines IGA, and I was back on track. The aroma of sweet carrots filled the house as the electric frying pan bubbled and simmered. The fresh coriander was chopped and thrown in at the last minute and everything was packed up in the car. The oldest of the kids was entrusted with the carefully sealed 6 litre pot of soup nestled between their feet. I grabbed my car keys and we were off!
Jo and I had agreed to dress up for the occasion in matching aprons made a few years before from a shared pattern but in our own choice of fabric. We met at the school hall a good half hour before Mass began. We plugged in the slow cookers to keep the soup warm, cut the bread rolls and lined up empty disposable cups on the serving hatch then herded the kids across to Mass.
When I arrived in the church I saw the pews packed with families whose children were preparing for Confirmation. As Fr Geoff said Mass my mind panicked as I tried to head count and work out if we had enough supplies. I slipped out the back of the church after Mass and ran across the dark car-park. Jo was calm and unflustered. Everything was under control. I told her there were close to two hundred people at mass. We decided that the carrot and coriander soup was very thick and could do with watering down! It was like the loaves and fishes as 6 litres became 12 and bread rolls were cut in half to increase the servings. Jo’s husband, while trusting that we had everything under control, somehow managed to appear with multiple boxes of cup-a-soup to help if the supplies ran low.
Mass ended, the aprons were proudly put on, a fresh coat of lipgloss, a hug and we were ready. We wound each other up as to who had made the best soup. We playfully fished for compliments as our friends and parishioners chose between the “potato and leek”and “carrot and coriander”. Everyone was very diplomatic, many returning for a cup of whatever soup they hadn’t tried first time around. The kids even tucked in which surprised us. We watched as the mountains of bread were eaten and the soup all but ran dry. We laughed and laughed and laughed! I swear we had more fun on our side of the serving hatch than I ever expected when we put our names down on the Family Mass supper list.
Shared by Gina B
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