Do you ever ask yourself, “How do I actually show my appreciation to my friends?” If so, cook a meal for them. In the late summer of 2005 I lived in sunny San Diego California, and had just served the 5th of 6 years that I owed the Navy. I had lived in the San Diego area for the past 4 years, but I only knew a couple of people because I had been living mostly on an aircraft carrier. The closest family member was my cousin who served in the Marines, but he lived 4 hours away and was always deployed. The people that I had spent 3½ years with on the ship and have got to know quite well were being stationed all over the United States. It felt like I was starting over at step one again. Little did I know helping out a friend would help a new and cultured family grow.
Night after night I would come home from work and make myself something easy and quick to eat. Although I had a kitchen full of delicious food I would make myself a turkey and cheese sandwich with maybe tomato and bell pepper on it, and then I would throw it on the George Foreman grill so I could feel like I am really treating myself. One night I was preparing a meal fit for a bachelor, and I get a call from my friend Fabian asking if him and his two boys, 5 and 9, could stay with me. I had no problem helping out a friend in need. Especially since I felt like I had nobody! We all lived together for 3 months before moving in to a bigger house that our mutual friend JB had been living in for a while.
We have all known each other for a couple of years before moving in together, but we really didn’t know much about each other. JB, who is Filipino, was 7 years older than me, but we shared the same style in clothes, like the same sports, and liked discovering new musicians or artist. Fabian, who is black, was 6 years older than me and had 2 handsome boys that stayed with us every other week. Fabian and I shared the same point of views on a lot of social subjects, and we coached and played sports together as well. Our diversity it is what made us such strong friends, almost family.
The three of us had one thing in particular in common, we felt that each one of us could handle ourselves in kitchen. We bragged about what our specialties were, but honestly we all had just one “go-to” dish that we could truly brag about. I was a pasta guy, JB could prepare meats like a champ, and Fabian had breakfast down to a science. In our down time when we weren’t out or broke, we would sort of compete in this big beautiful kitchen that had a common island in the middle of it.
Our bachelors pad contained 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, a game room, with a beautiful view over the city and beaches of San Diego and its breath taking sunsets. This house was to be treated better than any frat house. Therefore we had parties, but for the most part they were under control. The 3 of us brought dates home all of the time, but for some reason never at the same time.
Shortly after moving in together in the lovely home in Mission Valley, a suburb of San Diego, we all had gotten to know each other and we all became friends with each others friends. We seemed to busy all week. During the week I would work out with Fabian, have lunch with JB’s friend Marian, watch the college basketball games that were on, and so on. Friday and Saturday night would come and our small group of 3 guys turned into 15 people looking to go to the bar, go to a concert, or go watch the padres play. Then Sunday we would all find our own way to recover and get ready for the next week.
One Sunday, while recovering, I started to reflect on the times before. The times where the people I knew left or were forced to go their own ways. I was a little depressed knowing that this would soon happen to my new family that I had just acquired. So I started thinking, and it didn’t hit me until later that week while at a friend’s restaurant. We all loved fine dining and felt that we had something to offer in the kitchen. That was when I came up with Soul Food Sunday. Since I felt that Sundays were being wasted away, I decided we must do something special every Sunday night. Between the 9 of us we had to prepare a home-cooked meal that had ourderves, a pre-meal ( soup or salad), the main course, and a dessert. All of this, of course, would be served with a classy beverage too. Whether it is wine, a mixed cocktail, or water, it had to be served in a nice glass. Every week people would volunteer an item of food or drink to Soul Food Sunday, and It had to be a different item each time. For example, if you made spaghetti for one meal, you could never make it again. You had to bring something different. If you only knew how to make one or two things you would have to pick something out of JB’s cookbook. Along with the great meal, you had to look great. No suits, or fancy dresses, but you had to dress as if you were going to a 4 star restaurant. The meals were always fantastic, even if they were a weird mix of foods, but what really made the tradition is the conversation about the week that had just past. The stories and jokes would get funnier as the night went along!
Soul food Sunday doesn’t happen anymore, but everyone talks to one another to keep up on their week. Even though most of us live in separate states it feels like we still have Soul Food Sunday over the phone.
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