In Defense Of Potlucks & Cluttered Homes

On cultivating community amidst the chaos

Photo by Unleashed Agency

A few weeks ago, I read an article listing rules for how to be a good dinner party host. It included things like don’t rush, try to make as much ahead of time as possible (like coq au vin), keep wine and water glasses full, and don’t do the dishes in front of your guests. I am thirty-eight years old, and I can count on one hand the number of dinner parties like this I’ve hosted. I love a good dinner party, and in an ideal world I’d love to host more of them. But in reality, having the time, finances, and energy to host events like these is a privilege many of us don’t have.

Most people I know are overwhelmed, exhausted, disconnected, and often lonely despite perpetually scrolling and Zooming online. We crave more opportunities to connect genuinely with one another, but we often hold ourselves to unreasonable expectations around what having people over should look like. If you also feel hosting dinner parties isn’t something you’re able to do regularly, I’d like to offer you an alternative. No facade. No masking. No attempt to make preparing a three course meal look effortless. May I present/reintroduce to you the humble potluck or, if you’re uncomfortable asking others to bring anything, the humble throw-whatever-comfort-nonexpired-delicous food you have on a platter and offer it to your friends.

Does it sound too good to be true? It isn’t. It’s amazing, and it’s the reason I see my friends as often I do.

Last weekend, I had a few friends over for dinner and a movie after my son went to bed. I made two frozen pizzas and ordered a third when I realized the first two wouldn’t be enough. I was prepared to offer an assortment of half-eaten chocolate bars for dessert, but someone brought leftover cookies from Panera. We ate surrounded by stacks of coloring books, piles of disheveled papers, and dust bunnies that insist on making my living room home no matter how often I vacuum. We were tired. I was already in pajamas. But what I served or the disarray surrounding us didn’t matter. We were hungry for connection—intimate, in-person conversation and eye contact.

My friends and I have done this for years—shared the labor of food preparation and clean-up with the understanding our homes will rarely be spotless. While I was pregnant, one of my best friends and I alternated hosting each other for dinner each week. My pregnancy was challenging for many reasons, and our weekly ritual brought me so much joy. We never made anything elaborate. One time, she was so tired she made us peanut butter & jelly sandwiches. To this day, it was one of my favorite meals. We never cared what we were eating. The importance was the commitment to weekly connection and the freedom to show up honestly.

If you have the time and energy and financial resources to host frequent dinner parties, by all means, do it. But if like me you crave in-person connection more often than you’re able to host a dinner party, I hope you’ll consider inviting your friends over for low-key evenings. There’s nothing more comforting than sharing our messy, disheveled, uncurated lives with one another and hearing me too.

So give me monthly meet-ups. Give me frozen pizza and peanut butter & jelly sandwiches and pints of Ben & Jerry’s in the company of friends. Give me washing dishes together or leaving them until tomorrow depending on what feels right that evening. Give me friends who don’t take offense when I ask them to leave at 9 PM because I’m tired. Most importantly, give me space where we can show up without pretense, where we each have the psychological safety to walk in the door and answer truthfully when asked how are you?

I’ll leave you with a poem from my forthcoming collection If Adam Picked The Apple. It’s a poem about finding the people and spaces where you can show up as your most authentic self.

HOW ARE YOU?
Can we start with a simpler question? 
Tell me what’s on your mind. 
Are you weary of rain? 
My skin is saturated with sun. 
See the hydrangeas blooming? 
The bumblebees are everywhere. 
Did they call? 
The lump was benign. 
When did you last drink water? 
I’m not hungry. 
Have you been to the doctor? 
Insurance has yet to kick in. 
What are you reading? 
The songs of birds. 
Do you miss her? 
Always. 
How will we survive? 
On salted heirloom tomatoes and laughter. 
Will you leave me? 
Never. 
Is it me? 
It isn’t. 
What gives you hope? 
The redwoods. 
How can I help? 
Keep talking.

How do you stay connected to those you love amidst the chaos? What suggestions do you have for our community? Join me in the comments!

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