Missing those oddly comforting mediocre meals.
MISSING THOSE ODDLY COMFORTING MEDIOCRE MEALS.
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Remember the cafeteria? It wasn’t exactly Michelin-starred dining, was it? Yet, for countless hours, it was the beating heart of our campus experience. Beyond the lukewarm coffee and the mysteriously rubbery chicken, those dining halls were where life happened. They saw us at our best – celebrating an exam well done, brainstorming for a group project, laughing until our sides hurt with friends. They also saw us at our most vulnerable – pouring over textbooks at midnight, commiserating over a less-than-stellar grade, or just silently contemplating the future over a bowl of suspiciously bland soup.
It wasn't about the culinary brilliance; it was about the convenience, the community, the shared ritual. The endless pasta bar, the questionable breakfast scrambles, the surprisingly good fries – these weren't gourmet meals, but they were our meals. They fueled late-night study sessions, epic debates, and whispered confessions. They were the backdrop to forming bonds that would last a lifetime.
Now, years later, when the responsibility of cooking is ours alone, there's a strange longing for that consistent, if uninspired, campus fare. It’s not the taste we miss so much as the feeling: the effortless camaraderie, the freedom from daily meal prep, the sense of belonging that came with every tray. Those oddly comforting, mediocre meals truly anchored a defining chapter of our lives. They were far more than just food; they were the taste of possibility, community, and relentless learning.
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