Eat, Pray, Love

Brown:

It’s 4:30 p.m. in the makeshift dining room (three light wooden tables, two fridges, sweatshirts and aprons hanging from the hooks on the fireplace) and Mulan’s “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” plays loudly. A few girls are laughing, singing and attempting to dance. They’re here hours before dinner is going to be served because they want to be, because Brown is comfortable, because this is where their friends are. When asked why they joined Brown, almost everyone says he or she is here because of the people. In the small but efficient kitchen, only a hint of the music and a few loud shrieks can be heard emanating from the dining room. Sabrina Szeto ’12 has come up with a recipe for today’s dinner: chicken in what will be a delicious peanut and tomato sauce with rice. Rebecca Pottenger ’12 is in charge of the dessert (angel food cake), while the rest of the team tries to come up with a vegetable (cauliflower in parmesan?). There’s chicken breast — a whole lot of raw chicken breast. Brown loves its meat. When one member brings up a vegetarian restaurant she went to recently, another laments that such establishments exist. The environment is casual, free-form. No other rice can be found besides a giant paper bag of brown rice, so that’s what they’ll use. They are uncertain whether brown rice is cooked differently from white rice (more water? more rice?), but the group comes together, makes a few suggestions, and soon enough there is some deliciously cooked brown rice sitting in a white ceramic bowl, waiting for the onslaught of hungry members.

They say, “This almost never happens,” but today the cooking team (the four designated Monday cookers and me, the awkward writer praying her ineptitude hasn’t poisoned everything) finishes the meal more than 15 minutes ahead of schedule. Still, there is already a group of about eight ready to dig in. In total, less than 20 people show up to the dinner, but Brown is a small group — a tiny community for the meat-lovers, Disney music aficionados, those who want to learn how to cook (Everyone is learning: “How do I cut a cauliflower?” “Should I use this pot?” “Is this the right type of parmesan?”) and even those who enjoy intense conversations about contemporary topics in computer science (at least I think that was what they were talking about).

Oh, and I hear that all the real fun in Brown is had on Friday nights — a fun more intoxicating than their love for meat. Still, it’s hard for me to believe that anything could be more enjoyable than the Monday dinner I made with them, separating the gooey white fat from the slimy chicken breast while the dim bronze plaque for a Princeton war hero, the co-ops’s unofficial mascot, stood watch on the wall.

- Lolita De Palma

International:

You look down at your plate. Lying in front of you is a colorful array of your favorite fruits: kiwis, bananas, apples and oranges. As you are about to lose yourself in this kaleidoscope of ambrosia, you notice that beside it is a heap of penne pasta — al dente — soaked in the balanced flavors of tomato and feta cheese. You look up — are you at Teresa’s or Mezzaluna? No, you are eating at Princeton’s International Food Co-op.

Although you are taken by the meal in front of you, your attention turns toward the people eating around you. Several of your fellow diners cooked the delicious meal you are currently eating, making those people seem increasingly appealing. What’s sexier than being able to cook a fabulous meal, amirite? You realize that, with your inability to make instant ramen, the members of this room are automatically more dateable than you are. To make matters worse, all of today’s chefs are seniors. In fact, most members are seniors. Thesising seniors. Quickly, you realize that the members of IFC are also better than you.

Magnificence aside, if you are a sophomore looking for a meal plan, if you are a junior looking for a zestier dining option or if you want to make people fall in love with you, take note of the IFC. Today, the IFC is limited to only 30 students — several spots are still open — and functions like a home away from home. Everyday, a team of three students tag-team to bring mouthwatering deliciousness to the other members. In their culinary foxhole, members of the IFC form a timeless brotherhood of sustenance that is nurtured in the battlefield of Laughlin’s kitchen. Everyday at 6:30 p.m., when the meal is prepared, a close-knit group gathers around a home-style dinner, during which the members of the co-op playfully tease each other, just like every time your dad embarrassed you at the dinner table when you were growing up. Princeton’s IFC is like picking all the best parts of family dining without any of the downsides: great food and camaraderie without the parental nagging, setting the table and slaps on the wrist for reaching — but don’t forget to wash your dishes.

- Nick Ellis

2-D:

The 2 Dickinson Street co-op is one of the best kept secrets on campus. Far enough away from the Thursday night hubbub and only a minute’s walk from the U-Store, the co-op was described by a member as “Princeton away from Princeton.” It’s a pleasant mix of chill, cozy, alternative and delicious.

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I walked in through the kitchen door of 2-D and was greeted by a room full of focused cooks chopping and dicing vegetables to the slow rock music blaring from the speakers. There was a clear sense of routine and rhythm to the kitchen, and all of the cooks were intently focused on their own dishes.

I was lucky to arrive on a Tuesday. 2-D orders all of its food in bulk from the organic wholesalers Albert’s Organics and Neshaminy Valley, and the weekly shipments arrive on Tuesdays. The pantries and refrigerators were stocked liberally with organic vegetables, grains, dairy and fruit. I was particularly jazzed to see kale and Swiss chard in one fridge.

The house — with its 17 member rooms, kitchen and basement — feels sort of like a frat house until you actually look around. The dining room features cartoon portraits of the members, health-food cookbooks, an overflowing bookshelf, a collage of African-American luminaries left over from Kwanzaa and a massive, multi-colored quilt.

When dinner preparation was finished at around 6:30 p.m., the members and I filled our plates with an expertly balanced array of apple-raisin-walnut salad, stir-fried asparagus and tomato, sweet potato and tofu-walnut burgers drenched in delicious teriyaki-honey sauce. We sat on the porch and lounged in the breeze while consuming the feast.

The members are mostly undergrads, but there are a few grad students and even a post-doc or two scattered among them. They were effusively friendly, welcoming and very informative. It became pretty obvious that the silence of the kitchen wasn’t awkward at all; everybody was so comfortable with one another that there wasn’t really a need to talk. The community is close-knit, but I never once felt out of place, despite the fact that I was the only non-member present.

Probably the coolest thing about 2-D is that it’s $500 per semester. Only $500 for a semester of healthy, delicious, organic food? It’s a good deal, and it’s delicious. Granted, you have to cook one night a week, and you have an assigned chore, but that’s a small favor to ask for such a close, comfortable community.

- Gavin Cook

Mathey:

Mathey Co-op is the youngest of the Princeton food co-ops. The co-op started from scratch this fall; they just planted themselves in the basement of Edwards Hall and then worked with the University to purchase all of their cooking supplies. Although the co-op is located in Mathey College, their official name is a very deceiving title according to its members, who are worried that having “Mathey” in their title may scare away non-Mathey residents. They instead want to adopt the name “Real Food” to emphasize their dedication to using locally-grown produce.

About half of their 13 members are freshmen and sophomores, which is highly unusual for co-ops. Since Mathey Co-op is smaller than the other co-ops, there is a large emphasis on being tight-knit. Instead of allowing multiple members to cook meals independently, they all cook each meal together, using a very familial distribution of responsibilities. The intimate environment of the co-op feels a lot like life at home during the holidays.

About four or five members get to the meal early to prepare the meal. When the cooking is complete, members get their food buffet-style and gather around a table to eat. This Sunday for brunch, the members enjoyed a fresh fruit salad, banana bread and three varieties of omelets. After each meal, a member adds a page to their notebook describing the meal, with details such as the menu, the members who attended and their satisfaction with the recipes.

The Mathey co-op tries to do their grocery shopping at local farmers markets, using only seasonal crops, though they do occasionally rely on bulk orders from huge suppliers. Members Damaris Miller ’15, Katie Horvath ’15 and Divya Farias ’15 laughed about how it took them two months to go through a gigantic sack of carrots that they bought through a supplier. The co-op also has some limitations in terms of ingredients they can have on stock; they occasionally run into recipes that call for specific ingredients they don’t have. Miller pointed out that this limitation has forced her to find creative alternatives, which helps her become a better cook. While most of the members have cooking experience, the co-op welcomes members of all cooking abilities, as long as they’re lovers of good food.

- Lily Offit