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Recently, Dartmouth announced a clear commitment to address food sustainability throughout campus dining by initiating the formation of a “food working group” comprised of a collective of students, faculty and staff. As one of the students serving in this group, I am as nervous as I am hopeful, and while not jaded, certainly uncertain. I wonder — what would a comprehensive sustainable food action plan look like, and how could we direct our efforts into getting it right?
Talking about food is challenging because it is never just about food. Food is inextricably tied to one’s being. To all, food is indicative of identity, a myriad of intersections. So much so that there is even an academic term for it: “foodways,” defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as “the traditional customs or habits of a group of people concerning food and eating.”
Those who work the land or live off of it know that although it may seem like the weather is fit for sowing thanks to the bout of warm weather this week, preparations on all fronts are in place for harvest. The Upper Valley, and New England in general, has brief, impressively productive and incredibly seasonal agricultural contributions.
Experienced cooks know that a good plan is essential to culinary success. The ability to think ahead, work quickly and neatly and manage time efficiently makes both cooking and the completed dish excellent. So much so that in professional cooking, the quality of one’s mise en place, loosely translating to “everything in its place” — meaning items, ingredients, motions and timing — quickly distinguishes the best from the rest. Yet, even for the seasoned chef, cooking at college can present sets of new challenges that can make even a simple plan needlessly complex.
Every event organizer knows that the best way to ensure (at least minimal) attendance from flaky college kids is non-DDS free food. The blitzes and GroupMes provide a constant stream of possibilities, but when it comes down to it there’s most definitely A-side and B-side options in the free food world. Many factors come into play when determining whether or not the trek to Collis or Novack is worth the reward, so here’s a quiz to help you with your decision:
Whether you like it or not, the GroupMe messaging app is an integral part of the Dartmouth experience. It somehow has all your contacts and lets you get in touch with almost everyone on campus, so naturally it’s a go-to for the groups that don’t necessarily need your digits. The number of chats you’re in is directly proportional to your social capital, since with more involvement comes more GroupMes. And while everyone’s experience with GroupMe is unique, there are common themes that unite all typical Dartmouth students. Here are a few examples of the types of GroupMes that you’ve been a part of during your years here:
This Saturday is Pigstick, Alpha Chi’s big event of the term. There will be music, kegs, revelry and plenty of delicious meat cooked by Dartmouth’s own Collis Ray. As a member of AXA myself, I thought I’d talk to some fellow Alpha Chi’s who swore off meat to see how they plan to approach this event. (Yes, this is a dumb idea for an article. No, I have no idea why I pitched it.)
When ordering takeout, it’s the protocol for the employee to ask the customer’s name for their order. The employee that picked up the phone for Ziggy's Pizza knew the rules, but when I told him my name, a surprising amount of confusion ensued:
Foco has and always will be a Dartmouth dining enigma. Every time I walk out of Foco, I somehow leave more confused than I was walking in: Why is the froyo machine still broken? What exactly is in the vegan pizza? But the strangest of Foco offerings—the Foco “superfoods”—go largely unnoticed by most meal-swiping students (Hey, 19s!). Most believe that these superfoods, located right above the salad dressings, have amazing nutritional benefits. But how do they taste? This week, Dartbeat took to the test to find out:
On the morning of Super Bowl 50, knowing I would soon be feasting my eyes on and stuffing my face with everything that makes this country great, I made my way to White River Junction for something a little different. My destination: Tuckerbox Café, a Middle-Eastern restaurant/coffee shop hybrid.
I woke up a little late on Sunday. Okay, more than a little late. I woke up and it was lunchtime, the later end of lunchtime. But I woke up with a smile on my face because I knew I was about to order takeout from Big Fatty's BBQ. Ten minutes later I was on the phone, and I said something I thought I would never hear myself say: "I’d like a Fatty Daddy to go, please." Aside from my fear that someone overheard me asking for something called a Fatty Daddy, I knew it was going to be a good afternoon.
If you're anything like me, you’re only reading this article because you saw the words "King Arthur Flour." Don't lie to yourself – you know it's true. KAF is happiness. KAF is love. KAF is life.
It was a slow day at Sunrise Buffet in Lebanon. How slow? Only one other table was occupied, and sitting there was a single employee cutting the ends off green beans. I didn't mind, though. The lack of patrons gave me free reign over the buffet. I felt like a king.
If you’re not looking for Kata Thai Kitchen, you definitely won’t find it. Tucked beneath an unmarked staircase across the alley—err—street from Everything But Anchovies, the restaurant doesn’t get much foot traffic. Luckily I knew where to look, and when I made it inside, it was nothing like what I expected. The interior appears equal parts retro diner, Chipotle and nightclub (the lighting is dim and ambient). And oh yeah, they serve Thai food.
Wow — where has this term gone? My final fall has come to its final days as I prepare for final papers and final exams. Finally.
On a gloomy Monday evening, we headed to FoCo to taste test the grossest looking foods being served that night. It was a particularly grim evening, and we had a lot to try — although sadly most of the foods we tried were just as gross (if not more so) than they looked. We left FoCo with our hunger notsatiated and our minds reeling from the disgust we felt at the sight of such vulgar foods.
After spending countless hours scouring all three streets in Hanover that have restaurants on them, I came to realize that I’d exhausted most of the options this town had to offer. So I expanded my horizons to include Lebanon — it’s a bustling metropolis, relatively speaking. It’s not often I get off campus, so even the 15-minute drive that did not require a single turn felt refreshingly exotic. I might even venture out of state some time soon just for the rush.
My destination was a place I hoped would be a hidden gem. It certainly met the “hidden” qualification, tucked in the back of a strip mall dubbed “The Miracle Mile.” I ordered takeout (it is week nine after all — don’t pretend I have time for things), but I found the ambience pleasant during the five minutes I waited at the bar. The restaurant is reminiscent of a very colorful diner—both clean and well lit.
First of all, I’d like to apologize for and explain the lack of a column last week. I had the misfortune of coming down with a stomach bug for the better part of four days, which denied me my favorite hobby: eating. I lost roughly 15 pounds and experienced severe Collis stir-fry withdrawal. Nevertheless, after four days, I willed myself out of bed, down the stairs and across the 50 feet to Foco. After a few exploratory meals, I was ready to return to my solemn duty as Dartbeat columnist.
The best part of Halloween is, inarguably, the giant amount of candy that is readily available. There are so many delicious candies to choose from — which one best fits your personality? Find out here with our sweet quiz.