Scents of savory sausage, freshly cooked pancakes and hot coffee emanated from the church hall at Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Rosedale for the annual Shrove Tuesday dinner. Many of the guests donned colorful beads and masks.
Like diners at Christian congregations throughout the area, the crowd of about 200 at Prince of Peace dug into steamy stacks, smothered in maple syrup and melting butter — the typical Fat Tuesday meal and the last festive dinner before Lent begins. For many, the modest, calorie-laden supper means Mardi Gras more than any celebration with parades and parties.
"I think we are blending traditions," Pastor Mark Fuhrman said of the pre-Lenten meal amid Mardi Gras accessories. "It's in the same spirit as Mardi Gras. … It's one big party tied to the tradition of consuming all the fat in the house before Lent, the season of penance, begins. The next day, things are different, at least liturgically."
The fare, cooked by longtime members and served by younger churchgoers, continually filled the tables at the $6 dinner.
"We look forward to this dinner every year," said Ronilyn Sowa, feeding pancake morsels to her 20-month-old son, Ryder. "I tell the kids 'it's pancake day' and off we go."
Pancakes signal the "farewell to meat," a translation of the word "carnival." Father Frank Brauer, pastor of the Catholic Community of St. Francis Xavier in Hunt Valley, which served a free pancake supper, said the day before Ash Wednesday has traditionally been the occasion to de-fat — or remove all the animal fat from -— the household and focus on 40 days of prayer and fasting.
"It all goes back to the time when people cooked with animal fat, not canola or vegetable oil," he said.
Christus Victor Lutheran Church in Carney also serves a free meal that its pastor calls "the truly Christian version" of Mardi Gras.
"We get together to say thanks for the bounty as we go into the season of penance," said the Rev. Joseph E. Skillman Jr.
The doors are open to all.
"We could not be less formal for a meal that draws nearly 100," he said. "We think of it as a gathering for those on their way home from work."
Skillman gives the blessing and samples the fare but leaves the cooking to the more experienced, like Tom Lehman, who does the grocery shopping as well as the pancake flipping. He promises the magic of fluffy stacks hot off an industrial-size griddle borrowed from a nearby fire hall. But kudos go to Aunt Jemima, the true author of the feast, he said.
"It all comes out of the box," he said. "I can't take credit."
Preparation can be intense, but seasoned volunteers, like Lu Ann Brown, can take the heat. She has run Trinity Episcopal's pancake supper in Towson for nearly 30 years.
"It is a relatively easy dinner to serve," she said. "If you can cook for 20 at home, you can cook for 100 in a commercial kitchen."
With assembly-line precision, she spreads butter thickly on three cast iron griddles that can each cook 10 plate-size pancakes. By the time she has poured the batter on the last griddle, pancakes on the first are ready to be flipped.
"It's continuous motion," Brown said. "Pour, flip, butter again, pour, flip."
Bob Scheufele, special events chairman at Prince of Peace, said, "You just keep food hot and coming."
Beth Doerflein, a licensed food safety manager, spent the better part of four hours at the church's stove Tuesday.
"It's like my own personal sauna," she said. "I am a mother of five. I adapt."
She had sausage baking in the oven and constant rows of 8-inch pancakes on the griddle. Her husband, Wayne, mixed the batter, 10 pounds at a time, and downed the occasional burned pancake.
Rita Neal came from Wilson Point to dine with friends.
"I am Catholic, but this delicious supper shows me God is everywhere," she said.