Word: salade
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...what they call the carbohydrate-craving gene, which is on chromosome number 11, close to the alcoholism gene and the cocaine-addiction gene," she says, before taking a brief talking break to join her husband in a mating dance that involves methodically removing the croutons from their chicken Caesar salad. Though her science may be suspect, her earnestness is not. During the meal, she leans over the table to confide details from her fat, ugly past. "I have stretch marks from my neck to my knees," she says sotto voce. Her husband tells her they are battle scars. They...
...much better that I'd be really shocked if there was a [health danger] that we didn't know about," she says. "It's more healthy than I would eat if I were left to my own choices. In that case, I probably wouldn't be eating a salad or fruit...
...hiding of the institutional trappings succeeds fabulously. The serving area is far removed from the dining hall proper, and the salad bar and gaping maw of the tray return are blocked off with a tasteful privacy wall whose carving design is echoed in the columns that mark off the "oasis" from the rest of the dining area--unifying the separating elements of the space. (This is opposed to Quincy, where the separating elements are unified by a similar "ribbed" design but where the salad bar juts obtrusively into the dining space.) The entire room is flooded with light from...
...with clean lines and simple geometric shapes (triangular ceiling sconces, cube chairs). The screens that separate the serving area from the dining area are like Japanese privacy screens, their slatted design evoking "exotic" bamboo. Various Ming-style vases and tureens once lined up like eager Maoists atop the salad bar, but have since disappeared in a fit of Amerocentrism. A rather unflattering painting of a beaming (and vaguely sickened) Buddha watches blissfully over the entire proceedings, as "offerings" of fruits and sweets (the traditional gifts given to the god) are heaped at his feet for students' consumption. In winter...
...different realms of the dining experience, separated by giant ribbed columns (that appropriately echo the faux-bamboo of the other separating screens. The central area surrounded by the colonnade is the "public" space, where long tables do not encourage "gathering around" for shared commensality, and the prominence of the salad bar (and the way it violently disrupts the unified space) proves that this space is for eating, not chatting. The colonnade separates this from the "private" space, which is filled with individual tables that are each self-contained universes of intimacy...