I was sweaty and I stunk of garlic bread. I picked up a box to haul in the back of a friend's trunk when behind me I heard, "Are you Clare?"
"Yes," I responded as I turned to face an older man in a yellow shirt, not knowing who he was.
"You didn't bring mustard," he said. "You told me weeks ago you would bring mustard."
He was right. I had promised this man mustard a few Sundays ago. And then life got the best of me, what with graduation, job interviews and my last set of finals. But even with what seemed like legitimate reasons to forget a condiment, I couldn't shake my surprise that this man remembered me and my mustard.
Savory Sunday is a volunteer organization that serves meals to Madison's homeless. I have been volunteering here since January 2009. Each Sunday at 11 a.m., volunteers meet in the The group of volunteer chefs grew, and Savory Sunday bounced from the Wil-Mar neighborhood center kitchen to other community centers to the Lutheran Campus Center, where meals are prepared today. Paul Hendrickson, 29, one of Savory's founders and still a volunteer today, is amazed by Savory's growth. "Savory has grown exponentially," he says. "There is no way I would have guessed it'd be this big. We've had thousands of volunteers, and if I were to guess, we've served 70 to 80 thousand meals." The food for Savory Sunday comes from the And it couldn't be truer. Eric Randall, 47, has been volunteering at Savory Sunday for 18 months, and he has only missed one Sunday. When asked how he finds the motivation to go each week, he thinks of the people first and foremost. "It's consistency. [The people we serve] deserve consistency," he says. "I try to be that familiar face that people see each week, so that everyone is more comfortable." No one commands the kitchen like Randall. He spurts from one oven to another, stirring, scooping and sautéing different dishes while managing his cooking time and tracking his cigarette breaks. Ellen Carpenter, 23, is another Savory regular. She's been volunteering since November 2009, and she too attests to the social value of the experience. "I really love the volunteer atmosphere," Carpenter says. "All the people are laid-back, honest and giving." Everyone, volunteers and patrons alike, contributes to the ambiance Carpenter describes. While Randall sings along to an A-track in the kitchen, Hendrickson saunters in smiling and covered in mud after a morning baseball game, and another volunteer and I compete to see who can slice more mushrooms. Meanwhile, over at the park, servers and served alike cap off the meal with a Frisbee game, and Carpenter looks for a place to fill the water balloons she bought for the occasion. Perhaps no Savory event reflects the camaraderie of the group better than the Grill'n for Peace fundraiser. In the middle of February, Savory rents grill space to anyone with a grill who wants to help cook. More than 60 grills are formed into a peace symbol on the frozen Lake Mendota, and grillers and diners share cooking tips and sample each other's creations while a crane photographs the event from above. The leftover meat -- and there is plenty -- is then frozen and used for Savory's subsequent Sundays. I've been in Madison for four years now, during which time I've graduated from college, fallen in and out of love, gained and lost friends and lined up a full-time job. Far and away, Savory stands out as one of my most valuable experiences. Savory taught me to look outside myself and beyond what I see in front of me. The panhandlers we see on State Street, the kids we used to see around Peace Park, and the people for whom some UW students adopt cruel nicknames -- many of them come to Savory Sunday. I admit, at first it can be a little off-putting, if not scary, to meet these people face to face. But it doesn't take long to realize that they are people too. People who want to talk about the Brewers' record and boast about their children. People who come to the park to enjoy the warm weather with friends and laugh about days gone by. Our diners are in many ways the same as those at any restaurant in Madison, with an extra helping of gratitude. I will never forget many of these people and the bonds we've forged despite mountains of difference between us. I will never forget how to make Sloppy Joes out of donated hamburger meat from Wendy's. I will never forget the children who turn down the midday meal but whose eyes light up at the sight of a pink sprinkled donut. And I will never forget the look on the face of that man when I brought him his mustard.