It had to be Thursday night at one of those common moments every Smithie goes through at one point or another, I didn't feel like doing homework. Instead, I did something else that is very common among us Smithies, I checked the Dining Services menu. Most of the time, there are one or two houses that offer something mildly appealing for brunch, dinner, or what have you, while the other houses, well, offer something less appealing. However, on rare occasions all of the houses offer the same thing for dinner, think Julia Child day. On this particular Thursday, I noticed that all of the houses were offering the same variation of meals for Sunday's dinner: Hot Wings, "Super" Nachos, Pizza, Chili, Gumbo, and celery and carrot sticks with dip. This could only mean one thing...Sunday is Superbowl Sunday!
I was ecstatic! The thought of having wings on a Football night took me right back to Sunday Night Football with my dad back home in Philly. However, before I could say, "Oh, everywhere is having the same thing," I remembered that not every where is having the same thing. "But N'dea, I thought you said that everywhere was having the 'same variation?'" I'm happy you asked. Although every house had the same menu, every house doesn't cook the same. My point is that some houses' food just don't taste as good and TLC'ed as others and because it was Superbowl Sunday, I was undoubtedly going to make sure that I had a good meal. So where did I go on Sunday? I went to my favorite house to eat at of course, Lamont.
Sunday came and my friend and I told our other friend to meet us at Lamont at 5:15pm, 15 minutes before Lamont opened the flood gates for hungry Smithies to grab "all they could eat." It sounded like a good plan until my friends and I got to Lamont at 5:15pm and noticed the line starting to wrap around the dining hall; clearly I'm not the only person who thinks that Lamont has the best food. But anyhow, we got in line and eventually got our food and it was just how I like it: crispy wings and cold fresh vegetables, I was in heaven...for five minutes. After about my third wing I noticed something terrible, I was full! I could barely get through the plate that I had longed for all weekend. While I tried to nibble at my carrots and picked at my wings, at some point, I sadly submitted to my full belly. In that moment, I realized that my eyes truly are bigger than my stomach.
1 comment:
I have a friend who's a sportswriter. His first piece of advice about watching the Superbowl is "don't eat the Superbowl food."
Post a Comment