To upperclassmen, alumni and my extensive worldwide fan−base reading at home who anxiously await my column each and every Thursday: You might want to skip this one. Why? Well readers, today I'm brazenly embracing my youth. As I sit in the Carmichael Hall lounge fiercely typing out this column before cramming for a midterm, I have a smile on my face and eggs, courtesy of Dining Services, in my belly. Indeed, readers, I have an unlimited meal plan and will use the next 500 or so words to analyze the vicious Dewick vs. Carmichael debate. If you don't have a meal plan, you couldn't care less.
Unless you lived in Houston or Hill Halls freshman year, you're most definitely thinking "Excuse me, what debate exactly? Dewick always, please and thank you." OK, hold on for one hot minute. I too embraced this school of thought last year when I lived in Tilton. But after living in Wren, I've adopted a new, more holistic, less ignorant view of Carmichael, and will now shed light on the issue as thoroughly as my remaining 447 words will allow.
To be clear, I'm not going to use stir−fry night as the one be−all, end−all reason why Carmichael can pretend to compete with Dewick. Honestly, it only happens once a week, they always run out of noodles and it takes too long — although I do like to stand in line and munch on those little mini corncobs while waiting. I'm also not denying that Dewick is better. I'm just saying Carm's not all bad.
Breakfast is hands down the best meal of the day, and you're wildly misinformed if you think otherwise. I quite literally dream about it. Every day is like Christmas when there is breakfast to be had. Carmichael has Quaker Life cereal (God's processed wheat gift to creation) and Stonyfieldbanilla−flavored yogurt — who wouldn't love the bastard child of banana and vanilla? Add one of the many granola offerings for a tasty and fibrous snack. Carm also has poached eggs, which I've never seen at Dewick, and if egg sandwiches are more your style, the panini presses are far superior.
At lunch and dinner, Carmichael pretty much always has spinach at the salad bar — rather than that spring mix crap — and never runs out of cranberries. The different specialty nights keep your palette from getting bored. The water comes out faster — has anyone else noticed this? — and they have popsicles. The big windows are great for people watching, and having no round tables eliminates the possibility of one lonely dude on his laptop sitting at a round table ten minutes after EC 5 gets out when the dining hall is super crowded … awkward. On the weekends, because it is open later than Dewick, Carmichael becomes Barmichael if you choose to bring some surreptitious alcohol to dinner while Dining Services provides the mixers — not that any good God−fearing Tufts student would ever do such a thing.
I know I'm doing little to change your attitude toward Carmichael, and I get it. Dewick is better. Downhill dwellers get to choose among 20 different cereals and don't have to walk through a confusing maze of people to get from the bagel cutter to the toaster. Dewick always has peaches, a bigger selection of apples and riper bananas, and Carmichael makes the foolish mistake of using awkward serving spoons, rather than knives, for jelly. Believe me, the reason my argument isn't more persuasive is because I still eat half of my meals at Dewick. I'm simply suggesting that the next time you downhillers are coming from class in Olin or are on your way to a raging pregame in Wren, don't be afraid to stop by and enjoy the offerings of the underdog, Carmichael.
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Chelsea Stevens is a sophomore majoring
in psychology. She can be reached at
Chelsea.Stevens@tufts.edu.
