Vanderbilt Campus Dining Reviews Part 2

The Wok (Commons): They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but in the case of the Commons Dining Center in general, that’s not really the case. Upperclassmen quickly realize that the Commons food is just a more erratic version of Rand, and The Wok is the quintessential offender. Here’s the skinny: The brown rice has the texture of uncooked pasta noodles, while the white rice clumps together in a way that almost seems believable for Chinese food. Order any chicken-based entrée and you’ll be good to go. Order literally anything else and you’ll spend the next 48 hours on the john, wondering to yourself, “which animal does pork come from, again?” If you’re thinking about the tofu, my advice is simple: please reconsider your decisions in life and seek professional help.

Bowls (Commons): When writing a story, there are few better ways to develop a protagonist than by including a character that serves as a foil. It’s almost impossible to imagine Hamlet without Laertes, Dr. Frankenstein without his monster, Harry Potter without Draco Malfoy, and most importantly, Rand Bowls without Commons Bowls. The contrast between these campus dining options is quite stark: Rand Bowls have long lines and taste good, while Commons Bowls have short lines but taste about as appealing as eating a whole pinecone.

The problem starts right at the beginning of the assembly line, where you’re forced to choose between “spring mix” (I’m pretty sure it’s currently Fall) and romaine lettuce. Regardless of whichever terrible option you select, the unnecessarily rushed workers then add quinoa on top of your lettuce. These synergize together about as well as Hillary Clinton and her private email server did. For proteins, you can choose between chicken, tofu, or “Roasted Garlic Tuna Salad.” Once you’ve selected chicken and spared yourself immediate death, you’ll then find yourself staring at 7-8 ambiguously labeled sauces. In order to choose the best sauce, heed the following tip:

They’re all terrible. Every single one. You have resigned yourself to a life of sadness and despair just by entering the line in the first place, so just pick a sauce, put on your best frown, and sulk up to the cashier for what will invariably be a bland and forgettable dining experience.