College is changing. The culture on campuses has drastically shifted over the last few years, and some prospective applicants have begun to question whether it's worth attending at all. The pandemic booted students off campuses and changed their relationships with their schools in ways that haven't been resolved by their physical return. The Supreme Court struck down the affirmative action policies at Harvard and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in June, and the discourse almost immediately segued into an examination of how the ultra-rich gain their own legs up in admissions. Classes are shrinking (alongside an aging population) as higher education remains financially impossible for many families, especially after SCOTUS scuttled President Biden's original student debt forgiveness plan. The humanities especially are drying up.
With these seismic shocks rocking the collegiate environment, we checked in on another core aspect of student life: dining. Just as politics and economics are reshaping life for millions of students heading to campus this fall, the nearby restaurants and bars define the experience too; the dining scene gives students a chance to explore their environment, establish relationships with friends and peers, and develop interests in the world through food. We took the temperature of on- and off-campus dining in the most Eater way we knew how, through restaurant maps.
This week we launched the Eater College Dining Plan, a massive guide featuring restaurant maps centered on dozens of colleges and universities across the country. The project highlights the amazing on-campus food at some schools, but mostly it focuses on restaurants that have become integral to the surrounding communities. Some are century-old institutions — like Scholz Garten near the University of Texas at Austin or Suisan Fish Market near the University of Hawai'i at Hilo — that predate nearby schools, welcoming generations of diners. Others have become deeply interwoven with college life, like Paschal's in the Atlanta University Center, a gathering place for student organizers during the civil rights movement. Others, like Al's Breakfast near the University of Minnesota or the Tombs near Georgetown University, were founded or run by alumni.
Whether they dominate small towns or carve out pockets in larger cities, colleges and universities are central players in dynamic ecosystems. As these schools face economic challenges, so do the businesses that have formed symbiotic relationships with them. But there's a flip side to that relationship. Restaurants remain valuable pieces of the college experience. Even as the monetary worth of a degree fluctuates according to the life-long salaries of graduates, schools still have a powerful selling point: participation in the intellectual, athletic, and culinary energy of a college community. If anything, the Eater College Dining Plan has shown just how robust college dining is these days.
This was a great project for the many people at Eater and across Vox Media who were excited about highlighting the best of their local college communities and alma maters; for me, it was also a personal mission.
I grew up in a college town, Lawrence, Kansas, as the academic brat of two KU history professors. By the time I was a couple years old, I could answer three questions routinely posed by my mother: What's the greatest band in the world? The Rolling Stones. Where are you going to college? Harvard (where my parents got together). What comes out of your nose? Snot! (On this last ecstatic answer, I always devolved into laughter.)
When I was 9 my parents got jobs at the University of Southern California, a very different scene where students have access to the riches of LA's restaurant scene. But I returned to Lawrence recently to find Mass Street boasting plenty of restaurant and bar bona fides of its own: a perfectly executed combo of cinnamon rolls and chili at Ladybird Diner (a classic school cafeteria duo in the Heartland), compelling craft cocktails at John Brown's Underground (where the titular abolitionist, in a take on John Steuart Curry's famous painting, watches over the bar room with a saxophone and microphone in hand), or fudgy scoops of Rock Choc Jayhawk at Sylas and Maddy's Homemade Ice Cream.
I didn't end up going to Harvard (I opted for UPenn), but like many millennials, I grew up relatively little doubt that I was going to college somewhere, that an investment in higher education would pay dividends in my career, even if I graduated with a humanities degree and not a clue what I wanted to do professionally. That assumption and the intellectual wandering it engendered — fueled by a sense of privilege and a willingness to take on debt — has dissolved for many high school seniors.
Students and families have a lot to consider as they pack up necessities (instant noodles, coffee), head to campus, and decorate dorm rooms (hot plates, mini-fridges). It's an exciting time of year too for everyone working at or living near colleges, as the quads and libraries begin to buzz again, and for alumni who get to revisit old stomping grounds as they pass along tips about the best late-night pizza to the next generation of diners. And in the midst of this, the restaurants and bars featured in the Eater College Dining Plan continue to feed and support their communities while displaying their own unwavering school spirit, from the back-to-school rush all the way through commencement and beyond. As you read through the package, we hope it will bolster not only your academic pride but your culinary allegiances too.
Rock Chalk. Fight On. Go Quakers.
— Nick Mancall-Bitel, editor
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