Sophie Henry

As the semester quickly comes to an end, it’s time to have a serious discussion on a topic that has been spreading through the Yale community. Endowment justice? Effective activism? Environmental impact? No, this topic is far more tasty. We’re talking about Grilled Cheese versus Chicken Tenders. I fear that the kid’s menu is far more powerful than people realize. Who knew some cooked dead animals and melted hard milk between two slices of bread could create such visceral, youthful joy in a cohort of jaded overachievers? But the time is now to create a divide in the student body because Ted Cruz can’t do it on his own. 

Team Grilled Cheese

Grilled cheese may not be for hot girls — because all hot girls are lactose intolerant, it’s just a fact — but there is no doubting that Grilled Cheese Day is a day of triumph. One — or two…or four… — sandwich has the power to turn your day around from a flop to a slay. Whenever I chow down on that good good, I can feel the nutrients coursing through my veins, and I know that the constipation I’ll have the next day is beyond worth it. Every moment spent not pooping is time spent eating a grilled cheese. There is no other way to convey my questionable love for grilled cheese than through a knockoff Rupi Kaur poem. Please enjoy — or don’t, I’m an ally for both sides <3

what is more beautiful 

than you 

who fills me up over and over 

again with your

hot and tender cheese in

between crispy sliced bread

did you know that Betty White is literally

older than sliced bread

like no joke

rip legend

anyway back to grilled cheese

so you remember that

really weird glee episode where

one of the characters saw Jesus in a grilled

cheese and they called it

grilled cheesus

cheesus crust if you will

i can’t make this stuff up

go watch it or 

else <3

Team Chicken Tenders

While I almost always advocate for the consumption of dairy products  — Cow’s milk gets way too much hate in my opinion — I have to stand on the chicken tenders side of this debate. There is nothing that gets Yitter, myself or literally anyone else on this campus more excited than the prospect of pulling ourselves out from a Pset or the first circle of hell, as my friend refers to the place we all call Bass Library, and consuming the crown meal of small children. 

Maybe it’s the fact that we are all just large and slightly more intelligent — a fact that is still to be determined in my book — iPad kids deep down. Maybe it’s because the chicken tenders are one meal that is consistently good in the dining hall. Regardless, how you go about campus from week to week, you always hear about “Chicken Tender Thursdays” and the overzealous excitement that follows. There is nothing I personally look forward to more than eating dead, breaded chicken on Thursdays. 

And, in response to my wonderful friend Angie’s Rupi Kaur-inspired poem, I have drafted my own dedicated to the superior meal of Yale dining: 

From the delicious breading

To the abundant sauces,

There is no way 

To describe my affections

For chicken tender Thursdays.

While it is true 

that sliced bread 

Is older than Betty White

(i agree, rip the legend)

and we cannot compare

To grilled cheesus,

The facts stand true. 

Nothing excites Yalies more

than consulting internships

and chicken tender Thursday.