Published in Buzz Weekly on 3/24/05
I could hardly contain myself when I saw the table tent declaring the Allen Residential Dining Hall would serve a special St. Patrick’s Day dinner. What delights were in store? Why, everything your heart can imagine! An authentic buffet of corned beef, cabbage, rooted vegetables, fish and chips, Shepard’s pie, Irish soda bread, shamrock cookies, and last, but not least, booze---no, scratch that---brownies! Irish brownies straight from Dublin, Ireland, or maybe Dublin, Ohio! Regardless of origin, this was a special meal for a special day of holiness, or debauchery. Depends on how you look at it, I guess.
I decided to meet up with neighbor and fellow single, Natalie Smith, who shared my sentiments about the St. Patrick’s Day meal. A blue-eyed, blond haired girl about 18 years of age, Natalie is about as fresh-faced as a Noxzema advertisement. Her pouty lips and art school chic are reminiscent of a young Debbie Harry fused with an intelligentsia flair similar to Anais Nin, but less dramatic.
When we arrived, the dining hall was bustling with people. Maybe they were just as excited as we were. After all, the dining hall as an impeccable reputation for providing high quality foods. The dining hall has an interesting culture. After proceeding through a chaotic mass of students and dining hall workers, you can awkwardly try to find seating alone or with company in an intimate booth. Even better, you can try to create the largest, most architecturally complicated table, seating every person you ever met, despite the fact that distance prevents you from speaking, let alone seeing, the other side. Dining hall group coordination hasn’t been this good since Girl Scout camp.
We made our way through the buffet, grabbing samples here and there, and sat down at a table adjacent to a large crowd. Our dinner started off well enough, despite the fact I magically developed laryngitis overnight and was unable to speak. Through a series of long pauses due to one-sided conversation on her behalf, I learned that Natalie is an art student and has to face some nasty midterms. Though I couldn’t express it, I could tell we had a lot of things in common, including a hatred of germs, a love for puppies and recent disappointment. This disappointment stemmed from the realization that we consumed an atrocious meal. But why? How could this have happened?
From the first taste of the sub par corned beef to the final sip of lukewarm water, I knew in my heart I had hoped for too much. I refuse to judge a book by its cover, and had I judged this dinner by its appearance, I would have had a much more positive contribution. The corned beef, though a systematic presentation of equal cuts and coloring, tasted more like a hot dog wrapped in sandpaper than a deli item. Pepper appeared to be the seasoning of choice for the evening as rooted vegetables, boiled cabbage and Shepard’s lentil pie were covered in it. The Shepard’s pie, traditionally a meat dish, was offered as a vegetarian alternative for the evening. It consisted of what appeared to be undercooked, powdered potatoes, canned tomatoes and lentils. Unfortunately, these starchy items were probably the tastiest entrees.
The fish and chips were deep-fried to golden perfection, with a crispy exterior and tender interior. But this was obviously a facade for the fact it was more tasteless than a McDonald’s “filet-o’-fish.” I was deeply offended that a McDonald’s entree, which costs ten times less than the dining hall, would taste better than what I ate that night. Even the international student from Britain, Niki Parr, retreated outside for a cigarette in hopes of filling the void the dining hall experience had left him. He said something along the lines of, “It was rubbish,” --- plus or minus a few expletives.
After pushing aside half my Shepard’s pie and fish, I decided to try some of Natalie’s shamrock cookies. I was really pleased that they were covered in glittery sprinkles to distract me from the flavorless matter in my mouth. They also doubled as effective method to cleanse my palate before I ended with a brownie. In retrospect, I regret not saving enough room for the brownies, as they were the only pleasant item. However, ten dollars is not warranted for a mediocre dinner and chocolate chunk brownie.
Feeling very sick, I drank several glasses of water, but nothing could erase the betrayal I felt. Normally, I find myself excited for the “special” dinners, because I expect them to be unique and satisfying. Furthermore, I felt embarrassed for inviting a guest for this engagement, as it was a reflection of my own tastes. Tsk, tsk, dining hall. Better luck next year.