DDS has been dished a lot of beef lately by our student bod. Among other things, people are unhappy about the 2006 Topside spending reforms, frustrated by the 2,006 people in the pasta line at Collis, and fearful of a surprise attack by Homeplate's vicious Chipwich Monster. In this time of crisis, I'd like to invite my fellow Dartmouth diners to calm down, grab one of those new Novack latts, and join me on a little tour of the less riot-inducing aspects of DDS. Hopefully you will leave with a new appreciation for Dartmouth's fine dining experience.
Let's begin on the Mothership: Thayer Dining Hall. Thayer houses three distinct eateries, each catering to different appetites. Patrons of The Pavilion, a.k.a. the "Puh-villianz," are badass eaters who keep kosher and/or faith in the hypothesis that "the grosser the food looks, the better it tastes." The nearby Food Court is the choice venue for Dartmouth diners with a sweet tooth for fro-yo and eye-candy. Finally, the more health-conscious diners among us sweat off more calories than can possibly be consumed at the aquarium-esque inferno that is Homeplate.
There are several necessary steps that must be taken before any meal can go down at Thayer Dining Hall. First, you have to find someone to agree to "get a meal" with you. These meals can be arranged via Blitz, in person, or by calling (603) 646-6155. I also accept Facebook messages. When the appointed meeting time arrives, you have to spend five to 15 minutes awkwardly loitering in the nooks of those planters in Thayer lobby. During this time, you should scan a Dartmouth publication for convo topics to share with your fashionably-late dinner date, who you're basically ready to elbow-butt in the face at this point.
Once I finally show up, we'll have to do a "walk-around." The walk-around is a very important step of the meal experience that was invented by my friends and me when we were facetime-chugging freshmen. The walk-around involves going through each dining area and (a) pretending to look for a place to sit, (b) pretending to not know what you want to eat, and (c) aimlessly walking/looking around.
Now it's time to choose your own adventure. Skip to paragraph number "1" if you want to settle down at Homeplate, go to "2" for Pavilion, and hit "3" for H-pizzle.
(1) Here we are at Food Court. So, apparently this little rendezvous of ours is totally platonic. Oh well. Whatever, that's fine with me -- but if we're here to check out other people, I call the good side of the table.
(2) So, you want to go to Homeplate, huh? Is this a date? (Eeee!) Better eat something that won't get stuck in your teeth! The "Pilgrim Gobbler" is out, but sushi's probably a safe bet -- though, hmmm, it looked a lot fresher at Food Court ... You can (a) go back to Foco and get the fresher batch of sushi or (b) read on and eat the HP sushi because you're too lazy to walk all the way back to paragraph "1." Okay, apparently you're reading on. You are eating the most conveniently located sushi. Who stole the soy sauce squeeze bottle? Hmm, this "Harbor Roll" is not bad, actually. So about this Dartmouth publication you were -- oops! Your adventure suddenly comes to a tuna-booting end. (Hopefully this wasn't a date.)
(3) What should I eat at the Pavilion? The first item on the menu is listed as: "Authentic" Lamb. Uhh, what's with the quotation marks around the word "authentic?" I sense an implicit nudge/wink-wink. So what you're saying is -- you're lying? This is imitation lamb carcass? Well, it looks absolutely revolting, so it must be quite scrumptious.
There are twelve different eating venues on campus. I've been to all of them except for Byrne Hall, Cafe North, and Collis. I hear Collis has rats, so I like to keep my distance.
Though I wouldn't be caught dead in a rat-trap at Collis Caf, I will tip-toe down to Lone Pine from time to time. If there were ever a bar in a Disney movie, it would look exactly like Lone Pine Tavern. I firmly believe that the Mickey Mouse Club would thoroughly enjoy hanging out there with me sometime. We could play Trivial Pursuit! The "Blushers" edition! (It's the dirty version, tee-hee.) Wow, this is just like a real, live bar! There's even free popcorn! (Burp!) Oops, one too many root beer floats for me! (What am I saying? Am I blacked out?) AHH! Was that a rat!?!? Oh, hey Minnie. Want some cheese fries?
Okay, now let's-go-to-the-HOP, home of the "Top Secret Grill Menu." Only the most dedicated egg-heads can name all of the unlisted options available at the grill. I'm not sure of the exact names of these items, but apparently they're all pronounced with a southern accent and involve the words: "buffalo sauce."
We're running out of time, so we should probably move to the quickest dining options available: Dartmouth's assortment of vending machines. My good pal Zeke Turner '09 recently wrote a ridic-sick Op-Ed venting his frustration with these things. Apparently, you often have to go Hard Guy on the machines and whoop them with a "hip-check" in order to release your Cheetos/Doritos/"ham salad" stuffed tomatoes. Wait, "WTF," you ask? Obviously that last prize is housed in the "real meal" vending machine at Novack, which is also home to gems such as "The Lumpy Mayo in a Hot Dog Bun Sandwich" and the even more ambiguous "Pork Chop Shaped Patty." It also contains boxes of chilled milk as well as cans of Chef Boyardee, who was cryogenically frozen in 1989 in the form of Meatball Ravioli.
The rest of the vending machines around campus contain the basics: candy bars, chips and various other necessities. The other day I was waiting in line behind this woman and her adorably indecisive five-year-old kid. The little tyke couldn't make up his mind about whether he wanted fruit snacks, gummy bears or one of those packs of "Warrior Chews," i.e. Trojan condoms. Needless to say, the kid finally ended up body-checking the machine and getting two things of gummy candies and a really neat balloon -- all for the price of one candy bar! (Side note: I'd like to send my congratulations to whoever placed the "Oh, Henry!" chocolate bar in the slot beside the condoms ... Oh, Irony!)
That concludes the tour. Dine w/you (fashionably) later!
