As Charles Dickens once said, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” I agree with this across a number of points. In terms of “the worst,” we are experiencing the devastating impacts of climate change, AI, and manipulative corporate hiring practices that are causing record levels of unemployment. We are probably witnessing the fall of democracy and the modern world order. As for “the best,” we have the modern comforts of DoorDash, legalized marijuana, Zendaya (blessed be her name and her hat), and Chicken Finger Friday.
Chicken Finger Friday has been a longstanding tradition at Skidmore, and one I enjoy very much—though I must admit that I do not partake in the chicken aspect, as a childhood food poisoning incident with chicken tenders at a Whole Foods Hot Bar put me off that particular form of chicken. Every Friday after my classes end, I go down to the Murray-Aikins Dining Hall to experience the sublime joy of my weekly Girl Lunch: delightful mac and cheese, the nostalgia inducing McDonalds-like fries, and caesar salad (though it upsets me that we must now make our own caesar salad, instead of the readymade version we got in prior years which was far more creamy and flavorful) paired with a can of Diet Coke from the stock I keep in my dorm.
Many people argue that Chicken Finger Friday, and much of the food at D-Hall at large, is overrated. To that I say: y’all have never been poor. Please, I implore you: try to live off of ketchup and molded Kraft cheese square sandwiches and soy sauce soaked rice for dinner. For those who have, like me, experienced financial hardship in the past, and still find D-Hall food to be flagrantly atrocious, I suggest that you look at some of our fellow Liberty League members. On Niche, Bard College’s food quality has a score of C-. RPI has similarly dismal scores in food quality, as does Ithaca College, Clarkson, and Hobart and William Smith. Even some of our nation’s highest rated institutions have food offerings that do not match their reputations and prestige. Niche places UC Berkeley and Northwestern at a C+. As for Skidmore’s score, A-, we share that score with such luminous institutions such as Stanford University and the University of Chicago. As a matter of fact, our grade actually trumps Harvard University itself, which has a grade of B. I do admit I’ve heard some valid complaints from students (yes, the chicken is often more pink than is probably safe). While I am not vegan myself, I am sure the options can feel limited at times, as is the case for those suffering from severe allergies or conditions such as celiac disease. And it’s true that dishes and cups can come out with mysterious stains. But to that particular objection, let the ghost of my freshman self scream at you: the freshmen who have to work in D-Hall would probably have the time to wash things like that off if you threw out your food and napkins before you put your dishes onto the carousel and stopped putting viscous liquids into the cups, for the love of god! There is also the fact that an online review platform like Niche could potentially be unreliable. Alas, the Skidmore News was unable to provide me with the funds to conduct a cross country food tour, so I apologize for any failures of journalistic integrity you may find in this article.
This is all to say: we have it good. I’m not saying that my mind is regularly sent into gustatory ecstasy by Chicken Finger Friday, but it is a reliable offering of some of my favorite foods that I regularly look forward to, chief among which is macaroni and cheese, a dish I’d say I know a fair deal about. Take this for example: one Thanksgiving, I made mac and cheese using a recipe that was sourced from a cooking TikToker known as “Tini.” If you cooks out there have ever looked for cavatappi pasta in the fall and found the shelves empty, she’s the reason why. The resulting product was so amazing that I entered a year-long phase of regularly consuming it; it got to the point where, although my family initially found it delicious, they would feel nauseous whenever they caught the smell of it. The point here is that I know good mac and cheese ladies, gentlemen, and gender non-confirming entities, and Chicken Finger Friday is enough to satisfy my exacting standards.
Given this, when I, as a freshman, saw the Sunday menu for the first time and saw that mac and cheese was one of D-Hall’s offerings for the second time in a week, I was elated. More mac and cheese? And with toppings? Yippee! Hooray, cheesy goodness! Oh, how naive I was. Whereas Friday’s mac and cheese was smooth, and creamy, its perverted twin was grainy and chunky. Whereas Friday’s mac and cheese had an inoffensive and pleasant umami flavor, this Cronenbergian nightmare was funky, almost fungally pungent, with a flavor vaguely reminiscent of the smell of un-deodorized armpits. Not even Gordon Ramsay’s colorful vocabulary could sufficiently describe the sheer depravity of what I experienced. Now, I do not dislike strong cheeses. A good Gorgonzola or chèvre pairs wonderfully with a dry glass of Riesling or Sancerre and some choice charcuterie. This was something beyond that. A quick anecdote: I once tried Annie’s White Cheddar Mac and Cheese, assuming that I’d like it as much as I liked their other products. The mac and cheese had some tang to it that was not to my taste, but I still found that it was an entirely respectable option for people looking for a good, quick, and affordable meal. When I tasted that mac and cheese that dared to make its appearance on God’s holy day, I found that it had taken that tang and made a figurative museum dedicated to exhibiting its worst qualities. This was the stuff of Dickensian nightmare: not even Oliver Twist would have asked for more of it.
I found myself asking, why? How could a person who allowed such a thing to come into existence dare to call themselves a human being? As a Philosophy and English major, I felt compelled to look long and hard for an explanation in the depths of human wisdom. Was this perhaps an attempt to, as our college espouses to do, produce creative thinkers? After all, some of the greatest artists to ever live were known to suffer from anguished inner lives: Sylvia Plath, Amy Winehouse, Vincent Van Gogh, Azealia Banks. But even after repeated attempts to try to get used to it, I found that the punishing flavor did not inspire any more creative thought in me than an overconfident straight man’s podcast.
The wretched poison that is so casually served on the day that once belonged to God ought to be listed alongside white phosphorus, mustard gas, and Taylor Swift’s most recent album as weapons too cruel to be deployed on even the worst of men. I shudder even now to think of the repulsive flavor. I have no doubt that the “taste” of it will haunt me until I am an old, old, they/them—that is, if the contaminants and carcinogens it surely contains do not cut my life short. But I do not blame the humble workers of D-Hall. In fact, I am grateful for them and what they have—however unintentionally—taught me. They have not only nourished my body, but also my mind, showing me both the good and bad sides of a culinary classic. I doubt they shall ever read this. They are far too busy to do so, and, I suspect, entirely uninterested in a student journalist’s thoughts. However, if by chance someone with the power to do so is listening: please, I beg of you, send this abomination, this insult to nature, this affront to all that is good that we as a species hold dear, back into the fiery pits it belongs to.
Disclaimer: This is a piece written with humorous intent. Taylor Swift fans, please do not sacrifice me to your dark mistress; I liked Cardigan and Mirrorball. Charles Dickens, the treasurer of the Skidmore News, and the estates of Sylvia Plath and Amy Winehouse had no part to play in the creation of this article. Shoutout to the people who make D-Hall run! You guys are the beating heart of this campus. Solidarity forever! If possible though, please replace the Sunday mac and cheese and make Tabasco as available as the other sauces in D-Hall: it complements the mac and cheese excellently and I like to put it on my eggs. Also, please bring back the pre-mixed caesar salad. The mac and cheese takes priority, though