Till We Eat Again

BILL DABNEY PHOTOGRAPHY

Jay Reed, a graduate of Ole Miss, lives in Starkville where he is a pharmacist by day and a freelance food writer by day off. He is a member of the Southern Foodways Alliance, and blogs at www.eatsoneate.com. BY JAY REED

The impending arrival of fall is heralded by a number of things in Mississippi: mountains of loose-leaf notebook paper on sale at the local discount store, high schools and colleges freshening up the paint on the football fields, temperatures dropping from 95 degrees to a balmy 88. And for those in K-12, be they students or teachers, it’s back to school … lunches.

In the days I was a part of those multitudes, it was rare that I didn’t sit down to a hot, fresh lunch five days a week. Sounds like a pretty good deal, huh? You can bet I asked (maybe begged) from time to time to take my own lunch in what I’m sure would now be a valuable vintage lunchbox. But my mother believed in hot school lunches, and if I wanted to eat, that’s what I ate.

Save one horribly vivid fourth grade flashback involving successive cartons of spoiled chocolate milk, my memories are generally fond ones. I may have experienced occasional jealousy of the cool kids who brought their own lunches, but I didn’t go hungry.

I particularly remember the pizza. It was rectangular, probably engineered to fit the largest cutout in the lunch tray. I’ve since had some amazing pizza in my many years of eating—it may be my favorite food group—but school pizza will always hold a special place on my palate. No, the cheese may not have always melted completely, and the pepperoni may have been in little bits instead of slices. But there was a particular flavor in the sauce—hard to identify or match—that I still remember.

At some point, years after graduation, I came across an opportunity to buy some of that pizza to cook at home. I don’t know if it “fell off a truck” or how it happened to end up in my freezer, but I was grateful. Not too terribly long ago, Strange Brew Coffeehouse in Starkville created a version with what I’m sure were higher quality ingredients, and perhaps a few more veggies than we encountered in the lunchroom at Emerson Elementary. Yet somehow, they managed to capture the vibe: rectangle, sauce and all.

I also have fond memories of the Shepherd’s Pie. It was mostly a tri-layered dish of ground beef, mashed potatoes and melted yellow cheese. What’s not to like about that? I honestly can’t remember if it incorporated any vegetables at all. I’ve either blocked it out or they gave up trying to sneak peas and carrots into our diet that way. (Remember, Michelle Obama was still in school then, too, which could explain a lot…). I’ve since learned that the proper Irish name for the version we were served is Cottage Pie. I won’t go into the whole “mystery meat” conspiracy theory, but true Shepherd’s Pie is made from minced lamb, and I’m confident they weren’t feeding us sheep.

My kids ended up going to many of the same schools I did, though some of the grades had shifted in a game of musical buildings. I recently took a poll of their favorites and was largely unsurprised by their responses. My daughter’s top choice was the cheesestuffed crust pepperoni pizza, with fries dipped in hot sauce-spiked “best ranch I’ve ever had.” Two thoughts here: 1. My pizza, however memorable, did not have a stuffed crust. 2. That’s high praise for someone who has consumed a lot of ranch dressing. My son chose the chicken tenders with mashed potatoes and gravy. Again, no shock.

What was a bit surprising was their unanimous choice for “least favorite,” a very commonly served dish called “cheesy chicken over rice.” Ironically, my daughter rarely orders anything in Mexican restaurants other than the universal P5, which I’m now convinced is the Spanish abbreviation for “cheese(y) dip over chicken and rice.” Go figure.

A few summers ago, the local schools invited the community to come eat lunch any day they were serving. I had every intention of going, with the hope of finding an old school pizza, a hunk of Shepherd’s Pie, or even some cheesy chicken over rice to judge for myself. Maybe even in the portion sizes they served at the teacher’s table. Alas, life and the day job got in the way. But there is still hope. And if hope runs out, there is always Goldbelly. edm