Let’s play a game. I’ll give you three dinner menus and you guess whether they are from a Brown dining hall or a five-star restaurant. Here’s the first: short ribs, winter squash, cornbread pudding and semolina olive oil cake. The second: birria tacos, yuca fries, green chilaquiles and tres leches cake. The third: moussaka, chicken stew, eggplant ragout and şekerpare cookies.
Maybe you guessed the first menu came from a fine dining establishment, the second from an underrated, trendy Mexican restaurant and the third from a Turkish fusion spot. But the truth is that all three of them were served at the Sharpe Refectory in the past year.
While these menus were part of special theme nights, they underscore the fact that the food at Brown dining halls, particularly at the Ratty, is really good. Even as I write this on Tuesday, the Ratty is serving sweet potato poutine, chipotle BBQ pulled chicken, kosher sweet potato ravioli with a side of roasted acorn squash, an allergen-free stir fry bar and a philly cheese steak station.
Though I am not necessarily upset about the upgrade in food quality, I worry that gourmet food at college dining halls reflects a larger trend of setting increasingly unrealistic expectations for what is considered ordinary. As universities offer increasingly absurd amenities in an effort to attract the brightest — and wealthiest — students, they risk losing the simple and endearing aspects of college that make it a meaningful experience.
Dining hall food used to be, for lack of a better term, super gross. Not too long ago, some universities served pre-plated salads and plastic-wrapped meals. Even having a yogurt bar was considered fancy and innovative. Eating at college was something to be endured, not celebrated.
Fast forward to today, and dining halls have evolved into culinary destinations with make-your-own omelette bars, special kitchens for people with dietary restrictions and celebrity chefs popping by on random Mondays. At some schools, this culinary evolution has been dramatic, even compared to Brown. For example, at the University of California, Los Angeles, an award-winning, former Food Network judge crafts thousands of ganache tarts and baguettes daily at the campus bakery.
This metamorphosis is a symptom of a larger issue: the gradual but steady inflation of what we consider ordinary. Once avoided by campus tours, dining halls have become showcases for universities to market their extraordinary student experience.
Universities like Brown have evolved beyond just being institutions of higher learning; they are brands vying to attract the best (and wealthiest) students. Much like Google trying to recruit the most capable software engineers with their laundry list of employee benefits ranging from “massage credits” to generous leave policies, schools need to sell an experience with their facilities in order to bring in the students they want.
Dormitories have been rebranded as “residence halls,” offering themed housing focused on areas like sustainability, wellness and civic engagement. Science and engineering buildings now have coffee shops. Even libraries are more comfortable and luxurious, with reservable rooms fitted with ergonomic chairs, vending machines that can make hot chocolate and coffee (check it out in the Sciences Library lobby) and study areas designated by noise levels. Across campus, every space is continually being upgraded and reimagined.
Dining halls are central to this branding effort. Serving sushi on a random weekday, as the Ratty has previously done, sends a message to the student body: Brown cares about you, is cosmopolitan and understands what it means to live well. The kosher and halal stations communicate another important message: respect for different cultures and religions as well as a willingness to accommodate all students. As someone who keeps kosher, I appreciate these options. Yet, I also recognize that they represent more than just food — they are an extension of the University’s brand.
This continuous branding and inflation of expectations is costly. First, there’s the financial toll. Brown recently spent over $3 million renovating the Verney-Woolley Dining Hall and $300,000 on new cooking equipment. While many of these expenses were funded through donations, it’s worth considering if this money could have been directed elsewhere. The costs may have been partly passed on to students, as the price of tuition is continually rising.
There is also a cultural toll. By redefining what is an “ordinary” dining hall — or dorm or library — we risk forgetting the value of simplicity. There’s something satisfying about a basic meal — a grilled cheese, a quesadilla or a plate of spaghetti. It is part of the college experience to commiserate and bond with your roommates about ordinary dorm issues: The heat is either way too hot or barely working, the water pressure in the dorm showers is on par with that of a dripping faucet and there always seems to be one washing machine out of order.
It is okay for dining hall food to taste like dining hall food and not that of a Michelin-star restaurant, dorm rooms to feel like dorm rooms and not the Four Seasons and libraries to feel like libraries and not Emirates airport lounges. When everything becomes extraordinary, nothing feels extraordinary anymore. We lose out on the “type 2 fun” of ordinary, somewhat bothersome experiences that make college unique.
Ben Aizenberg ’26 can be reached at benjamin_aizenberg@brown.edu. Please send responses to this column to letters@browndailyherald.com and other opinions to opinions@browndailyherald.com.
