Taco Tuesdays that were wildly inconsistent.
TACO TUESDAYS THAT WERE WILDLY INCONSISTENT.
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Ah, Taco Tuesday. The phrase itself conjured images: crunchy shells, seasoned ground beef, vibrant salsa, fresh guacamole. For us navigating demanding corridors, this weekly special was a small, anticipated break from textbooks and late-night deadlines. It was a communal ritual, a reason to gather briefly, before diving back into problem sets and papers.
But "wildly inconsistent" barely scratches the surface. Some weeks, it was a culinary triumph: perfectly spiced fillings, an array of luxurious toppings, and fresh tortillas hinting at authenticity. Those were the Tuesdays we savored. The dining hall felt like home, a brief moment of comfort amidst the intellectual grind. We'd share knowing glances, silently appreciating the rare alignment of culinary stars.
Then, there were the other Tuesdays. The ones that tested our resilience and stomachs. The mystery meat defying classification, salsa suspiciously like ketchup, lettuce clearly past its prime. These were nights of hushed complaints and exaggerated eye-rolls. Inconsistency was the only constant. We'd try to make the best of it, piling on safe toppings, sometimes resorting to just rice and beans, or, in desperation, the always-available pizza station.
Yet, even those dismal Taco Tuesdays hold a certain charm in retrospect. They were part of the shared experience, the stories we still tell. They taught us flexibility, the art of making do, and the enduring power of communal commiseration. More than just food, they were a backdrop to friendships formed, debates sparked, and solutions found amidst the clatter of plates. It wasn't always gourmet, but it was always ours.
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