Simplicity

Within a few hours of moving out of my house and to the fourth story of the beautiful old vine-encircled castle I now refer to as my dorm, I realized with a great deal of distress that for the next six months I would be forced to confine my culinary experimentation to those things that could be concocted with a small coffee mug, a spoon, and a microwave. I felt like an artist who packed away all the fancy chalks and oil paints and is left with a tiny square of paper and one those three-packs of crayons they hand out to the kids at Denny's. 

As I adjusted to my new life, I found myself subconsciously resurrecting my culinary passions in the cafeteria line. On day one I awkwardly set down my plate, piled high with mixed greens, cherry tomatoes, garbanzo beans, sweet potato shreds, and balsamic vinaigrette, next to my classmates' mouth-watering mounds of tater tots and fried chicken. 

As time went on, I learned to navigate Chartwell's irrefutably random selection of food. Although I have consumed more off-brand Cheerios in the past two months than I care to admit, I have also found several outlets where I can express myself through my favorite language. I dip baby carrots in hummus from the sandwich bar--simplified crudités. I float spinach leaves in the minestrone soup, top greens with rice salad, invent a roasted vegetable and hummus sandwich, brighten up the black bean soup with fresh salsa, even dip bread in marinara sauce and pretend it's bruschetta. If you close your eyes and picture the leaning tower of Pisa, it works. Kind of. 

The cafeteria has orange, yellow, and green plates, the latter of which are my favorite. Silly, I know, but it makes a significant difference in the visual appeal of your food. Fries and a burger look greasy and blah on warm-colored palates but are miraculously transformed to an almost-healthy-looking feast when arranged on a green plate. Someone told me the term "blue plate special" was invented under this principle. Buffet lines used blue plates because the color decreases the appetite. I haven't verified this but I like to think it's true. Anyway, I grab the first green plate I see and if they are buried I actually dig for one. I'm starting to think my classmates think either I've gone insane or I just really really like green. I tried to convince one that light reflects better off of green and makes you burn more calories while eating. 

I don't think she bought it.

Ultimately, I emerged from the initial comestible scarcity relatively unscathed. With the aid of a few tasteful pieces of dinnerware and a few simple ingredients, I have been able to spare myself from complete deprivation. 

 I now have a new-found appreciation for peanut butter.

It goes remarkably well with apples.

Oatmeal has become a close friend, expected to become closer

 in the inevitably frigid winter temperatures of Chicago. 

Perhaps the best part of this adventure I call college is the nutrition lab in which I am fortunate enough to spend three hours each week preparing various odds and ends, ranging from blanched broccoli to peach fritters. 

This was a delightful quinoa salad with mangoes, black beans,

 peppers, and a limey-cumin vinaigrette. 

As I sit here in my castle-dorm, my fingers pruned from washing dishes, the fridge stocked with 2% milk and a container of multi-flavored hummus, and pilfered pears ripening on the windowsill, I come to the pleasing conclusion that I am content with these simple pleasures.