Trenton, New Jersey — Long tables covered with American-flag tablecloths stand ready in the summer heat, as red, white and blue balloons sway overhead. The few dishes that have arrived are tucked under white mesh covers, while two grills sit at the edge of a driveway across the street.
Small American flags line the path to this grassy area beside a canal and a patch of trees. The trail begins at a large, dark burgundy sign that reads, “Welcome to Hiltonia, founded circa 1920”. The quiet neighbourhood of about 300 single-family homes, well-kept lawns and tree-lined streets is part of Trenton, New Jersey.
Only a handful of residents are mingling as Rich Green and Julie Kroon, a young couple in matching blue T-shirts, arrive with a bowl of corn and bean salad. Soon, others show up, greeting one another enthusiastically as they compliment the festive outfits and ask what everyone has brought to eat. As some struggle to open their folding chairs, others step in to help.
Thomas Emerick, a Hiltonia resident for 26 years, stands near the food table. Wearing a red-and-white striped shirt, he points to his contribution: a Thai black bean salad flavoured with garlic, ginger, cilantro and lime juice.
“You know what? You can have a social event without food, and you know how many people are going to come?” he asked. “Exactly. Now, if you feed them, they will come.”
Hiltonia’s gathering was part of America’s Potluck, a nationwide initiative led by the America250 Utah Commission to mark the country’s 250th anniversary through shared meals. But it also reflected a broader effort to rebuild social ties through one of the oldest social rituals: eating together. As loneliness and social divisions grow in the United States, communities, nonprofits and governments are turning to potlucks, communal dinners and other food-based gatherings to create opportunities for connection. Experts say these meals can bring neighbours to the same table, but lasting relationships depend on what happens after the dishes are cleared.
The July 5 America’s Potluck initiative encouraged people in every state to host or attend a potluck, with communities in all 50 states participating. While organisers had intended it to be a one-off event, they said some hosts are already preparing to do it again next year. Hiltonia was one of more than 1,700 such potlucks that took place across the country.
Dressed in a red sleeveless dress and sunglasses, Lily Knezevich, president of the Hiltonia Association, greeted everyone and made sure things were running smoothly at the event. A Hiltonia resident for more than 20 years, Knezevich learned about America’s Potluck through her involvement with Revolution NJ, New Jersey's initiative for organising semiquincentennial events.
The Hiltonia Association tries to keep people engaged with one another and encourages neighbours to support and look out for each other, Knezevich explained. Food is one way to make this happen.
“People naturally like to get together around food,” she said. “It's a great draw.”
Getting people to a table, of course, is the easy part. The tougher question is whether a meal can turn strangers into neighbours and friends — and whether a few hours of togetherness can build lasting connections. Research cannot yet tell us how long those relationships last, but it is beginning to shed light on the social benefits of eating together.
Benefits of shared meals
The 2025 World Happiness Report found a strong association between sharing meals and subjective well-being. People who regularly ate with others reported higher life satisfaction. Countries where people share more meals also tend to have greater levels of social support and less loneliness.
A report by the Foundation for Social Connection also points to food and nutrition as forces for social ties, from shared meals and meal delivery services to community gardens. It notes, however, that while promising, more research is needed.
Yet, despite food’s potential for bringing people together, Americans are increasingly dining alone. Busy schedules, changing lifestyles, technology and new ways of preparing and consuming food have reshaped how people gather around the table.
In 2023, about one in four adults reported eating all their meals alone the previous day, a 53 percent rise since 2003. While dining alone has become more common across every age group, this is especially true for young people.
“There's a level of atomisation that people like. They like the autonomy that comes with being alone, with living on your own, with not being enmeshed in family or other kinds of institutions,” said Alice Julier, a sociologist and food studies professor at Chatham University in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. “But it's also quite difficult. It can be isolating and alienating and connected to depression.”
For generations, communities used shared meals not only to feed people, but also to pass on traditions, build relationships and create a sense of belonging.
“Potlucks are an ancient social form,” said Megan J Elias, the Winiarski curator of food and wine history at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History. “Bringing together community resources for a meal has made sense through most of human history, especially in times when foods were less plentiful than they generally are in contemporary America.”
In North America, she said, communal feasting and traditions of pooling food long predate Europeans’ arrival; the particular American form called the “potluck” came later. Since then, potlucks have been part of community life through churches, social movements and cultural traditions. In the 1960s and 1970s, potlucks became part of countercultural movements that pushed back against suburban isolation and emphasised collectivism.
“Potlucks allow people to feed each other outside of family or intimate relationships, so they are great for creating a sense of common care,” Elias said. “They allow for folks to share their cultures with others outside their culture and also, sometimes in contrast, to affirm common culture.”
Food as a connector
Today, communities like Hiltonia and organisations across the country are building on that tradition by creating intentional opportunities for people to connect through food. Groups such as OneTable, which supports peer-led Shabbat dinners; The Longest Table, which organises community meals around a single, often block-long table; and Longer Tables, which designs shared meals and conversations, are exploring how food can serve as a bridge between people.
“Food connects us to our family histories, it connects us to our communities, both our geographic communities and our cultural communities, and it gives us something that we can share,” said Karl Schatz, cofounder of Community Plate in Maine. “That's what being human is all about, sharing our personal experiences with each other. We just need to find more ways to do that.”
Community Plate grew out of the COVID-19 pandemic, when Schatz and his wife, Margaret Hathaway, a cookbook author and food writer, were working on a Maine bicentennial community cookbook. Schatz, a photojournalist and storyteller, and Hathaway began collecting family recipes from people across the state. Through the project, they saw how food and the stories surrounding it could bring people together, particularly at a time when many were isolated. The experience inspired them to find a way to continue that work.
At the time, they also noticed how political tensions were spilling into relationships.
“We saw these political divides were dividing neighbours who otherwise would be friendly,” Schatz said. “At some point, everyone needs help. The neighbours are the first people that, geographically, are closest to you, who might be able to lend you a hand.”
Working with local partners across Maine, Community Plate creates free dinners designed to feel elevated, with tables set with cloth napkins, metal flatware and mismatched china. The gatherings typically draw 40 to 60 people who are invited to bring dishes, recipes and the histories behind them.
Schatz emcees the evenings, as participants share personal stories in response to prompts such as “Gratitude” and “Sowing Seeds”. Since its first supper in Lubec, a small town in eastern Maine, in 2023, the organisation has held more than 50 gatherings, many in rural communities.
After each potluck, participants receive a community cookbook with recipes and photos from the evening. The dishes vary with the seasons, from tabbouleh and potato salad in summer to stews and hot dishes in winter, and many recipes carry a story.
One participant shared a recipe for "Grandma Greeney’s Cole Slaw", describing how it was passed from her grandmother to her mother and then to her. “We all compete to make it as good as Grandma’s,” she said.
Another shared her father’s cucumber salad recipe, writing that it was “one of my father’s signature dishes” and that he took pride in making it for family meals. “Dad just turned 91 a few weeks ago. He is not here today as he has Alzheimer’s,” she wrote. “I miss him, he is my best friend.”
“There’s something really special about a potluck that’s different than just people sitting down and eating together at a table,” Schatz said. “When people bring food … and you’re feeding each other, there’s this simultaneous giving and receiving that’s taking place. That creates a sense of both helping and being helped. We’re so afraid to ask for help, but this is like training wheels for that.”
Schatz said participants often mention the connections they’ve made, including new friendships, exchanges of baking and cooking tips, and even a job opportunity, through the events.
Surveys of nearly 400 Community Plate participants found that 96 percent said they made ties with someone they didn’t know well, while 88 percent felt more connected to their community after an event. Many also said the dinners left them feeling more optimistic.
“These are tough times we’re all living in,” Schatz said. “Having one evening where you turn off your phone, and you’re just having good food and good conversations with people you didn’t expect to meet, it makes you feel more connected to the world that you’re living in.”
Hiltonia gathers
By midafternoon in Hiltonia, the possibility of that connection was spread across the tables. Tuna macaroni salad, watermelon feta salad, coleslaw and other sides sat alongside tinfoil trays of grilled hot dogs, cheeseburgers and chicken. A neighbour arriving fashionably late added her US-themed cupcakes to a dessert table already crowded with strawberry pies, fruit salad, watermelon and cherries.
About 25 people had gathered, some sitting in folding chairs on the grass, while others formed a semicircle along the kerb and street, talking about the weather and how they marked the Fourth of July.
Introductions quickly gave way to the question, “Which house are you?”
As residents named their streets or pointed out where they lived, they began placing one another: “Oh, you’re next to ...” or “I know your house.”
Nearby, pavement chalk and toys sat mostly untouched in the grass, as only one child had shown up. Some wondered whether younger families were away for the holiday weekend.
While this potluck marked America’s 250th anniversary, gatherings like these are commonplace in Hiltonia. Before COVID-19, there were “Flamingo Friday” socials, monthly potlucks hosted by different residents. A set of pink plastic flamingos on the lawn signalled the host.
Since then, the potlucks have become less frequent, in part because residents got out of the habit and it’s become harder to find hosts, Knezevich said. Still, the neighbourhood holds regular events, including a book club, summer garden party and a winter holiday party.
Knezevich said it’s been a gradual process trying to return to pre-pandemic-style programming, but she’s always looking for ideas to bring people together. “It enriches the life of the neighbourhood t
