Platters of wings sat next to aluminum baking trays filled with lumpia. Homemade Rice Krispies Treats shared space with store-bought fortune cookies. On almost every segment of the long, snaking table were charcuterie platters and loaves of sourdough. Organizers had put out the call for food, and San Francisco responded — including one Portola couple who rolled up with a small generator and crockpot full of some of the 600 meatballs they’d stayed up all night making.
It wasn’t a street fair or celebration of life but a massive potluck called The Longest Table. By noon on Sunday, hundreds had gathered at Civic Center for a free outdoor banquet with 1,000 seats across 10 designated zones. The whole thing zig-zagged across the plaza. One person compared the table to the curvy block of Lombard Street.
Registration was free, and about 1,300 people had signed up. Not everyone came though, so a team of 60 volunteers worked to accommodate walk-ins. “We’re finding a seat for them,” organizer Heidi Castelein said. “We’re not turning anyone away.”
Participants wore name tags, family-reunion-style, that also stated their neighborhood of residence. It was part picnic, part public art project, part community-building endeavor, with plenty of wine. Although there were no prizes, the afternoon brought out some competitive spirit from a city that likes to eat.
Retired visual merchandiser Gary Miller led a team that assembled a survey course in San Francisco culinary history, from chicken tetrazzini (invented at the Palace Hotel) to green goddess salad (ditto) to It’s-Its (created at Playland-at-the-Beach).
Wearing an elaborate hat that evoked the long-running revue “Beach Blanket Babylon,” Miller said he decided against Crab Louie because too many members of his party were allergic to shellfish. “We have arancini made with Rice-a-Roni,” he said, pointing to a pyramid of fried rice balls.
A few zones over, table captain Ann Kappes had conscripted her friends to bring cake-themed items. There was a bread cake, a sushi cake, and a quiche with “candles” fashioned from celery stalks with hot peppers as the flames. Her friend Cara Storm revealed the pièce de résistance: a cake in the design of a book that Kappes edited. It was chocolate cherry with rum-soaked cherries and an almond buttercream frosting. How long did that take?
“I’ll say what my great-uncle, the painter, used to say,” Storm said. “‘All my life.’”
Although they showed up empty-handed, a few politicos swung through. Supervisor Matt Dorsey pleaded a full stomach, having just come from brunch at The Grove — “my weekend office,” he said — while state Sen. Scott Wiener was being fed as he glad-handed the crowd. What was the best bite?
“Someone gave me a homemade wiener dog, a what-do-you-call-it?” he said, struggling to remember the name “pigs in a blanket,” a common hors d’oeuvre. “A rolled wiener, like a blanket?”
Saying he was headed home for lunch with his family, Mayor Daniel Lurie delivered prepared remarks but didn’t eat. It was OK with him that people were drinking openly in the shadow of City Hall, right?
“I didn’t notice,” the mayor said, winking. “Nah, we have Entertainment Zones. Everybody should be able to enjoy themselves!”
Castelein said she and fellow organizer Pam Baer — a philanthropist who’s married to San Francisco Giants CEO Larry Baer — hoped that people made connections, then would go home inspired to re-create their own version of the event, closing off a block at a time. The city’s permitting process can be tricky, but Lurie agreed with Castelein, saying his administration had made it easier for regular people to throw such events in their neighborhoods. His inaugural party was a street celebration in Chinatown, after all.
In the end, The Longest Table wasn’t vying for a Guinness World Record. And on the whole, it seemed most attendees were getting to know other members of their groups, rather than befriending strangers. Simple togetherness seemed to be enough. “At a time like this, when it’s really heavy, it reminds us that we have some things to celebrate,” Kappes said. “I love it.”