Editorial: I Have a Confession to Make

I missed the shit uni food, there, I said it. 

I know, it surprised me too. All this year I’ve been bitching about it. Going into the role of editor, I made it my personal mission to better the food quality at Massey, or at least add the tiniest bit of variety. It frustrated me, the banality of it all. You know the story. 

I wanted teriyaki chicken on rice. I wanted hot curries and dumplings and avocado on toast. So yeah, I was a bit of a cunt about the whole thing. Unashamedly so. I really wrote a lot of features and editorials about it all, shouting out into the void, hoping for an answer back. 

But huddled up in my bed in lockdown, left to my own cooking, I began to fantasise of the food I could eat on campus. Of the vending machines, with their never-ending supply of Diet Coke. Of a lukewarm sausage roll, a sweet little caramel slice to accompany a rainy afternoon. 

Tussock does this delicious little thing called a “cheeseburger”. I put cheeseburger in quotation marks because to me, it’s far more mysterious. They bundle these bad boys in so much tinfoil, one could be forgiven for thinking that an alien had taken a shit on your plate. But yowzer, is it delicious. It’s probably the only thing on the menu that’s not dry, and for that, I love it. A moist little delicacy of meat and cheese, a wee bit of tomato relish. Wrapped in bread. Perfection in a bite. 

It’s not fancy, it’s not complicated. It’s just an honest, working-man’s $4.70 cheeseburger. They don’t even add pickles (even though honestly, it would be a welcome addition) or mustard, so the burger is left to rely on its bare bones. And boy, it delivers. 

Massive is back on campus as I write this, and so far, the cheeseburger has yet to make an appearance. But I’m patient. I’ve waited four weeks for it, after all. I can wait a little bit longer. Because I know, it will come. Like all good things. That’s how much hope I now carry for the world. 

All through lockdown, I ate toast. I did not touch an oven, nay a frying pan. I ate toast and grew to hate toast, as one does. The idea of hot food, of sizzling meat and goey cheese and crispy pastry, now has me in raptures. Even if, sure, it sits out on a cabinet for hours. I don’t care. I missed the shit uni food and I’m sorry for being such a cunt. I’m a changed woman. Bring back the cheeseburgers and let’s party. 

x

Caroline