The Extra Plate
There is something wonderfully human about food.
We need it to survive, of course.
But food has always been about much more than eating.
We celebrate with it.
We comfort with it.
We welcome people with it.
We say “I was thinking about you” with a casserole, a bowl of soup, a loaf of bread—or a plate containing a little more dinner than we needed.
So today I'd like to suggest another tiny habit for transforming NDG.
The Extra Plate.
Every once in a while, when you're preparing something good, make a little extra.
Then think:
Who nearby might enjoy this?
It Doesn't Have to Be About Need
This is important.
The Extra Plate isn't a food-bank program.
It isn't charity.
You don't have to determine whether somebody “needs” the food.
Perhaps your neighbour is perfectly capable of making dinner.
That's not the point.
The message isn't:
“I thought you needed help.”
It's:
“I thought of you.”
Those are four very different words.
And sometimes they mean more than the meal itself.
Imagine the Knock at the Door
You've made a big pot of spaghetti sauce.
There is plenty left.
Normally it goes into containers in the refrigerator.
But tonight you remember the elderly gentleman down the hall.
Knock, knock.
“Hi, George. I made too much spaghetti sauce. Would you like some?”
Or perhaps you baked cookies.
Your neighbour has three children.
“We made extras. Thought the kids might enjoy them.”
Perhaps someone just had a baby.
Someone's spouse is in hospital.
Someone has been working long hours.
Someone is grieving.
Someone just moved into the building.
Or perhaps absolutely nothing is wrong.
You simply made a wonderful chicken pot pie and thought:
Mary would love this.
That's enough.
Food Has a Way of Opening Doors
Something interesting often happens when food crosses a hallway.
The container comes back.
Perhaps it contains something else.
“Those cookies were wonderful. I made you some muffins.”
Then another exchange happens.
A conversation begins.
Recipes are shared.
Cultures are shared.
Stories are shared.
Before long, two households that once lived twenty feet apart without knowing one another are knocking on each other's doors.
All because somebody once had an extra bowl of soup.
Imagine This Across NDG
Think about the extraordinary food already being prepared every evening in our neighbourhood.
Indian curries.
Italian pasta.
Québécois tourtière.
Lebanese dishes.
Caribbean cooking.
Vietnamese soups.
Jewish comfort food.
West African dishes.
Homemade bread.
Family recipes brought to NDG from virtually every corner of the world.
Imagine if just a tiny fraction of that food occasionally travelled one door farther than usual.
What a delicious way to build community.
And what a wonderful way to learn about one another.
“What is this?”
“My grandmother used to make it.”
And suddenly you aren't simply eating dinner.
You're tasting somebody's story.
The Container Rule
There should be one important rule.
Never worry about returning the container empty.
Return it clean.
That's enough.
Otherwise kindness accidentally becomes an obligation.
The Extra Plate should never create pressure.
No scorekeeping.
No expectation.
No:
“I brought you something, so now you owe me something.”
Give because giving feels good.
Receive because receiving someone's kindness is also a gift.
Today's A NuVo World Challenge
The next time you prepare something you are especially proud of, make one extra serving.
Then ask:
“Who could I surprise with this?”
A neighbour.
A senior.
A young family.
A friend who lives nearby.
The superintendent.
Someone living alone.
Or perhaps somebody you've recently met.
Put it in a container.
Walk over.
Knock.
Smile.
And say:
“We made extra and thought you might enjoy some.”
Then leave.
No ceremony required.
Imagine an NDG Where Food Travels
Imagine apartment hallways where neighbours occasionally exchange meals.
Imagine children carrying cookies next door.
Imagine newcomers introducing themselves through dishes from their homeland.
Imagine seniors sharing recipes they've made for fifty years.
Imagine somebody coming home after an awful day and discovering a container outside their door with a little note:
“Thought you might enjoy this. ❤️”
Nothing enormous happened.
Nobody transformed the world.
And yet, for that person, perhaps the world felt a little kinder that evening.
That matters.
We often imagine building community by bringing people together in large places.
Community centres.
Festivals.
Meetings.
Events.
Those are wonderful.
But sometimes community is built in a much smaller place:
between two front doors.
One neighbour cooks.
One neighbour receives.
Tomorrow perhaps the roles reverse.
And gradually something beautiful begins happening.
We stop living merely beside one another.
We begin living with one another.
So tonight, when you're making dinner, take a look at the pot.
Maybe there's enough for one more.
And somewhere nearby—
there may be someone who would be delighted to discover that you thought of them.
Make the extra plate.
A NuVo World — creating a NuVo, better world one day, one neighbour and one lovingly shared meal at a time.
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