At the end of the day, when I pull into my driveway after a day of classes, I always grapple with the same predicament, and it’s never a simple solution.
My stomach collapses in on itself and my mood shifts into a strange combination of rage, fatigue and hunger. I open the fridge and try to think of something to make but remember I only know how to make five dishes: omelettes, scrambled eggs, eggs over-easy, hot dogs and macaroni and cheese.
Some people enjoy cooking, including me, but cooking for one person is terrible for three reasons. One, there is no one to discuss confusing instructions with. Two, there is no one to confirm or dispute your opinion on how the dish came out. And three, you have to do all the clean-up and touching soggy food grosses me out.
If you have the patience and dedication to craft elaborate meals for just yourself, more power to you. But if you’re like me there is still hope.
The best way to combat this is eating out and trying to dig up some local gems. While it can get a bit pricey, there are a lot of perks that come with exploring the area’s local restaurants.
Not only do you usually get a quality meal, but popular food stops help shape the image and culture of a community. Whenever I go home to metro Detroit, I make it a point to visit my favorite restaurants that I left behind when I moved to Marquette because they remind me so much of home.
Just as smells can be associated with memories, certain flavors or certain foods remind me of different places. Every town has its own cuisine identity; Marquette is no exception and it’s important to at least try and expose your palette to all it has to offer.
There is a certain charm that local food eateries possess that I have always found appealing. The familiar faces that eventually get to know you as they welcome you into their establishment like one would an old friend. The walls that are usually plastered with old newspaper articles, pictures and reviews demonstrate a genuine sort of pride and care that I’m not sure is common.
If making eggs seems like too daunting of a task, I’d gladly cruise over to the Rice Paddy, grab some chicken chow mein and pay Aoy a visit. Walking into Main Street Pizza from a horrific snowstorm and being greeted by a fellow 20-something-year-old with $2.75 slices is my version of duck à l’Orange by candlelight under the stars in Paris.
Some may call me lazy for not always wanting to prepare my own food and I suppose I agree.
I know my limitations and when I need a snack in between classes, I’ll fire up the stove and make some Kraft macaroni but when I want something excellent, I’ll take a walk down the street to enjoy a serving of drunken noodles and a drink brought to me by the wonderful ladies of the Thai House and kick back and enjoy a nice, well-made meal.
