Writer’s college diet rises from the ashes

By: Julia Hall – Staff Writer

After moving into Campus South a few weeks ago, my five roommates and I have been experimenting with our cooking skills.

Already, two notable incidents occurred.

A very scorched grilled cheese sandwich was created. Not one side, but two, were severely blackened due to our lovely, apparently distracting conversation. The other incident will be referred to as “the frying of a single slice of bacon.” When the smoke alarms went off, the four of us home frantically opened windows and fanned the beeping devices, praying that they would magically turn off.

We were unsuccessful.

However, we had the honor of meeting a friendly police officer that came knocking on our apartment door. He kindly rescued us from the maddening dinging of the smoke alarms.

Despite these epic failures, we have put our noses to the grindstone and have somehow managed to not die—neither by fires nor lack of nutrition. Sure, we may have relied on refined, culinary innovations such as peanut butter and ramen, on occasion; but our kitchen has already acted as the backdrop for several of my most cherished memories on campus.

Food brings people together. It is the glue of many cultural traditions, like Christmas cookies. Our apartment has already instigated several of our own food-oriented traditions, including Sunday brunch. The first ritual meal included the most scrumptious, fluffy blueberry pancakes that have ever encountered the taste buds of humankind. See Lisa Mussleman for her secret recipe.

Another grand food tradition is the grocery-shopping trip. Scanning the aisles, I picked up two cans of soup and frantically interrogated my roomies, asking, “WHICH ONE SHOULD I BUY!? WHY IS THIS ONE 14 CENTS MORE!?” I eventually decided on tomato soup: It complements grilled cheese—the substance responsible for my existence—best. During the journey at planet Walmart, we also realized the many ways one could use a grocery cart. In short, we had a fabulous time.

Through shopping, cooking and eating together, the six of us have transformed into a family unit. Over breakfast, lunch and dinner, we talk about our days and provide mental support in the midst of the piles of homework, activities and provoking thoughts. We have developed our own way of life. I am telling you, we would make intriguing anthropologic research (the dish-washing dancing ritual in and of itself would be worth a thorough investigation).

Amongst all the chaos, I have come to the realization that this learning process is not only discovering how to boil water but also is learning how to formulate a way of life.

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