Chloe Shannon Wong, 16, Arcadia High School, Arcadia, Calif.
Chloe Shannon Wong, 16, reviewed the lunch at her school’s cafeteria.Credit...Alyssa Schukar for The New York Times
Plastic sporks, waxy red apples and pizza gleaming with enough oil to fill a small car: These are the signatures of Arcadia’s most bustling eatery. Few dining establishments are as benignly mediocre — or enjoy such astronomic popularity. Since August, I’ve eaten here daily, along with 2,000 other loyal customers. But what is it about these state-subsidized meals that leads teenagers to storm the halls at noon? What exactly is the secret to my high school cafeteria’s success?
On the first day of my junior year, I decided to answer that question myself. As a newly-minted upperclassman (short a year of actual school thanks to Covid), I didn’t want to graduate without ever eating in the cafeteria — that staple setting of angsty teen films. I was used to eating with friends in the library, and visited the cafeteria (nicknamed the Cafe) expecting to be repelled by its unrelenting din. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised. Though the Cafe is always busy, it boasts a spacious seating area — and in the back, an organized kitchen, replete with serving stations and fridges stocked with juice. If you have a calculus test fifth period, it’s a great place to fuel your brain with some last-minute carbs and protein. And the options are plentiful: On Wednesdays, the plat du jour is Buffalo wings; on Tuesdays, tacos paired with spaghetti. Monday’s pepperoni pizza is actually passable; the mystery meat with pineapple and brown sauce on Thursdays, less so.
While the menu changes at the Cafe, the service and ambience never do. The queue is often hundreds long, but thanks to a squad of brutally efficient lunch ladies and a rigid system of lines and ladling, you’ll receive your meal faster than at any Michelin-starred restaurant. The apple juice is always cold; the plastic tables, relatively gum-free. When there aren’t enough seats inside, diners spill out into the quad, where dozens of red lunch tables ensure that no customer is left standing. For 40 minutes Monday through Friday, the entire school is united by Go-Gurts, ketchup and Styrofoam trays. Such vitality is a welcome sight — especially after the eerie hush of quarantine.
Even the most consummate school lunch critic can’t deny the charm of my high school cafeteria, which lies not in its forgettable cuisine, but in the community it sustains without fail. It’s in the lunch ladies’ sweet reminders to “Grab an apple, honey!”; the rowdy laughter of the varsity football team; the sophomore couple declaring saccharine love over a shared plate of nuggets and fries. Every day, hundreds of friendships and connections blossom inside the Cafe. And these memories will continue to linger — long after the puddle of chocolate milk by the front door has dried.