I went to my daughter's school today. While walking past the cafeteria, its distinct aroma punched me in the nose and stomach simultaneously. The memories of the wholesomeness I enjoyed during my preparatory years are mixed.
Of course, my first impressions of school food was the lunch lady. She wore plenty of protective equipment. I admired the safety aspects of her hair net, orthopedic shoes, rubber apron and gloves. During civil defense drills, I would hide behind her.
I loved school cafeteria trays. Individual compartments for food separation made my OCD mind flutter. The segregation brings order and purpose to my life.
However, the days we had pea and carrots made my head spin. How could they purposefully mix food like that. I love peas. I love carrots. But, when you mix them, it culinary vandalism. It would ruin my day.
Mashed potatoes were great. They'd sculpt it into a perfect potato volcano with gravy lava coming out of it's crater. It was food. It was science. It was an adventure.
It's said that pizza is like sex. When it good, it's great. When it's bad, it's still pretty good. School pizza is like sex without rhythm. When I'm elected governor, I will outlaw rectangular pizza without crust. It's perverse.
Sloppy Joe's were always a friendly visitor. It didn't taste the best, but with enough ketchup, it was always fantastic.
The greatest food at school, or on earth, for that matter, is tater tots. The tiny fried cylinders of starch and cholesterol were like warm mittens on a cold winter morning.
To all the good people of Idaho, I thank you for your great contribution to society.
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