Sophie Henry, Illustrations Editor
Yale is a fucking multi-cultural melting pot. But have you ever been to the dining hall? Of course you have — you’ve been forced onto the meal plan for your first two years here. And even if you decide to move out of the unfuckingbeatable 1800s architecture — the damp wood floors, the six hundred flights of stairs you have to climb with no AC, the rats, all of it — you are still going to the dining hall because you have approximately 64 seconds of free time everyday at this place, and you’d rather spend those 64 seconds of free time catching up on sleep than cooking soggy broccoli.
I digress. I love it here.
Anyways, you have been to the dining hall. Statement. You have seen the “Jamaican” chicken. You have eaten the “Jamaican” chicken. You have spit out the “Jamaican” chicken because you realize it’s too big of an insult to Jamaica. You didn’t learn your lesson and decided to try again with the “Singapore Chicken.” Zero effort on that one. Singapore chicken? Really? Couldn’t even say Singaporean chicken?
And you absolutely cannot tell me you haven’t asked yourself what is Irish about the “Steel-Cut Irish Oatmeal”.
Don’t you just get the jitters when it’s India day? That’s my favorite. Indian-spiced eggplant stew for the fucking win. Indian-spiced. Only the spices are Indian because Indians are soooo spicy right?
And they aren’t the only ones! Spicy Ethiopian Doro Wat. Lord have mercy, it doesn’t get better than that. Africa isn’t all that spicy — it’s just colonized. Just like all of our food labels.
And I must issue a fat fucking apology to any Mexican Yalie or anyone of Hispanic descent to ever come to this school ever. Mexican Spice Roasted Sweet Potato? Huevos Azteca with Just Egg? It’s like they wanted to be exotic but then stopped halfway through. To the Hispanics, Mexicans, Latin Americans — you deserve better. You deserve to be exoticized all the way through.
Ginger and Sesame Bok Choy is CHINESE everyone. I don’t know if you picked up on that because unlike the rest of these dishes, it isn’t FUCKING SPECIFIED in the TITLE of the DISH. Do better Yale Hospitality! Is it not spicy enough to be Chinese-spiced ginger and sesame bok choy? Don’t you claim that Inclusivity is your priority?
The Texas French Toast, however, is exceptional — fuck internationalism. Finally keeping it insular.
The Yale dining hall workers are wonderful. It isn’t their fault Yale is trying to plop every member of the rainbow coalition onto our plates.
Every country and culture and Texas eats at our dining halls.
So where are the fortune cookies? You heard me. The fortune cookies. The international Chinese takeout ones. I get that Yale doesn’t label things Chinese, but I think fortune cookies are essential to boosting campus morale. A student’s 64 seconds of free time should not be spent sleeping but rather reading their good fortune.
But since Yale never fucking listens to the urgent demands of its students — like mental health resources or divesting from fossil fuels or supporting Yale Natives or putting the fucking fortune cookies in the fucking dining halls — I have crafted an individualized fortune cookie starter pack for each residential college dining hall with hopes that this movement gains traction, and the University finally puts fortune cookies in its dining halls.
Please preview samples for each residential dining hall below.
Modesty can raise your social status. Please shut up about how you were unfairly serviced with a fro-yo machine way before anyone else.
A wise soul uses time wisely. There’s a better use of your time than waiting in line for food at dinner for 45 minutes.
A golden egg of opportunity will fall into your lap today. And it’s going to be a revelation to never fucking come to this dining hall again. Even renovations can’t rescue us from being this nasty!
If your desires are not extravagant, they will be granted here. Also this is just a slip of paper that has been handed to you because we don’t believe in “Chinese” fortune cookies. We believe in attracting average whiteness in our students and our dining halls.
Riding on the coattails of someone else will get you far. We do everything Morse does, only shittier.
Don’t think, just act! If you think about coming in and eating here, you never will.
A small donation is called for. It’s the right thing to do. We have a lot of money and want more and don’t intentionally put the rich kids or the legacies in here. Eradicate poverty. Clarification: Eradicate the poor.
If you’re reading this, you’re an athlete, and you are the rightful owner of all the food in this dining hall. Please consume all of it so there’s nothing left for everyone else.
Do not make extra work for yourself. Save yourself the 500 steps and go to the Franklin dining hall.
A beautiful, smart, and loving person will be coming into your life after eating here. And that person is one of the creepy men on the paintings hanging from our walls which adds immeasurable value to the elitist look we’ve already curated for ourselves!
Accept something that you cannot change, and you will feel better. And we know that if you’re eating here, any day above ground is a good day.
Don’t let your friends and counterparts impose on you, and squash your enemies! You’re doing great work ostracizing Timothy Dwight because you’re just so great.
Although we have consistently produced the worst, wateriest, most ill-spiced food on campus, you have a pleasant surprise waiting for you. There’s an armed robber in your room!
Your time is coming. Just kidding. No it is not. If you’re eating here, you will always be overshadowed, outdone and forgotten. No matter how hard you try. Even if you’re right by Sterling and extend lunch ‘til 3. No one will give a fuck. Berkeley will forever be the overachieving older sibling, and you will always be the MFDTTF (motherfucking disappointment to the family).