From Chef Boyarduh to Chef Boyardamn: Devin Cohen gives advice on taking your Harris experience to the next level

A Conn student checks out the new salad bar in Harris refectory. Photo from web.

As we all know, walking into Harris can sometimes be an intimidating experience. Right off the bat, you might recognize some of the same food that has been on rotation in the hot line since the beginning of the school year, salad and pasta bars that are close to fixed and a fresh-to-order sandwich bar where the daily special is the only alteration on the unfluctuating menu. The school’s largest refectory will occasionally hit the jackpot with a dish, but generally prepares food bankrupt of flavor and devoid of any culinary aesthetic.
Although Harris offers few things I want and many I don’t, nearly every meal I create at the dining hall turns out to be surprisingly flavorful and satisfying. While the atmosphere for creativity in our cafeteria is equivalent to that of a middle school gym class, it is nevertheless possible to craft a meal with the limited array of space and instruments you have at your disposal. For me, food-related monotony has never been an option. Settling for the undesirable leads to a mood of defeat that lingers in my conscience.

As I do believe we are what we eat, eating well is a essential to feeling well and maintaining positivity. For anyone who has ever abandoned the idea of a dynamic meal in Harris or has fallen victim to lethargy induced by mundane sustenance, you can and will overcome this outlook, but to do so involves shifting your mindset about the dining hall experience almost completely. Here are some methods I have used to approach dining at Harris that have proven invaluable in enabling me to turn the dining hall into my own personal kitchen—methods that have actually made me energetic and optimistic while walking through those daunting double doors.

On a very basic level, it is important to view each meal at the dining hall as an opportunity. Not every meal has to be merely what you happen to put in front of you, and we must recognize that we are not captive to Harris food, but rather it is captive to us. Cooking is a form of expression, and if the meal is conceptualized as an opportunity to devise something that is your own, your plate becomes a canvas. Creativity is an essential part of this process, but as liberal arts students it shouldn’t be that difficult for us—all we need to do is make the effort. Good food is not something we are entitled to, it is something that must be earned (which is probably why so many Americans have no idea what good cuisine is). If you take the time, you will see the results.

This is why it is necessary to explore what your options are each time you set foot in the dining hall. Even though my friends believe me to be socializing aimlessly, what I do the majority of the time before my meal is reconaissance. When working in a restaurant, good chefs know everything that is at their disposal. This situation is no different, and you should always know what is available. This may result in taking as much time to make a meal as to eat it, but this is a key part of putting in the labor to produce something delectable.

As you navigate the dining hall, remember that Harris has a considerable amount of tools. If the pizza is looking a little bland, throw some banana peppers or onions or olives onto it, coat it with cheese and then heat it on the press.

The spices offered can also make a world of difference. Throw some garlic powder on top of a fresh feta, spinach and olive oil salad and you’re a few ingredients short of spanikopita. Or, if the typically bland meat served on the hotline is getting on your nerves, season it to your liking. Frank’s Red Hot has been the savoir of my meal several times in the face of indistinct flavoring, and I would encourage its use as a failsafe. Even though the spices and hot sauces are limited, they do give you some control over the taste of your food. Stop complaining and spice it up.

This brings me to another point: never be afraid to experiment. The worst thing that could possibly happen is you don’t like what you made. I’m not trying to encourage anyone to start assembling banana, pepperoni, hummus and hot dog wraps, or fried fish and pastrami paninis. Work within the realm of reason to undertake your new culinary endeavors, and only be audacious when the product you have in mind has a distinct possibility for success and is reasonable to pursue. For example, it was taco night last time I visited Harris, and I was not inclined to fill my taco shell up with clumps of processed beef. Instead I took some fried calamari from the hot line and substituted it for the meat: voilà, calamari tacos. Food from variant regions of Harris can and should be combined and experimented with as often as possible in order to derive maximum enjoyment from your meal.

Speaking of reasonable, it is totally acceptable to make requests of the dining staff in Harris. The food in front of you is something purchased. Since you are the customer, it is your right to be satisfied. If you approach a member of the dining staff and request something of them in a cordial manner, a majority of the time they will acquiesce. Yesterday I asked a woman if she could procure me some lime juice. Five minutes later I was grilling some onions, peppers and garlic on the panini press and had the ingredient I needed to create some semblance of fajita flavor. It was that easy. It also shocks me that we request the chefs to make eggs to order nearly all the time, but nothing else. If you season your own veggies or meat and kindly request them to sauté or fry whatever it is you’d like, they’re usually more than happy to do so. Give it a try next time you visit Harris, I have haven’t been declined a sauté or a fry yet.

There will always be days in the dining hall on which making a compelling meal is an impossibility (i.e. the day they serve Cod Fra Diablo). This is why you must find your contingency dishes: items you create for yourself no matter the day or time. If there is truly nothing that strikes me, my first fallback is an antipasto salad, consisting of spinach, onion, banana peppers, olive oil, garlic powder, oregano, sliced provolone, pepperoni and salami. Another more simplistic fallback when I’m in a rush is any type of bagel with cream cheese and hot sauce. Sounds ambitious, but it’s a sure thing. Also pita, hummus, provolone, garlic and onion sandwiches on the panini press have yet to disappoint me. Find your plan Bs and Cs and no meal will ever be underwhelming or deficient.

In a nutshell, view your meal as a opportunity to be creative with your food and expand your capacity to create. The tools are there, the ingredients are present, the only ingredient needed to complete the equation is your determination. Don’t succumb to culinary complacency, because it only takes a little effort to transform yourself from Chef BoyarDuh to Chef BoyarDamn. •