COVID-19 has altered the Hillsdale College dining experience in quite a conspicuous fashion. The overwhelming presence of plastic cutlery, disposable dishes, and individually-wrapped desserts is a tangible reminder of an ongoing pandemic that exempts no one from the cumbersome, but necessary, changes in procedure. While the new practice of utilizing synthetic utensils may incite grievances among those who rallied against plastic straws, it is safe to say the majority of the student population has adapted smoothly. In fact, the simplicity of tossing plates and utensils into trash bins saves students the effort of having to walk the grueling five extra yards to the conveyor belt for dirty dishes (a routine completely foreign to the class of 2024).
There is one change in procedure, however, that I find to be very troublesome and saddening. This change concerns the fresh produce options, specifically the limited options in fruit.
While I have no moral qualms against bananas and oranges (except for an intense hatred of bananas that I’ve nurtured since my youth), I am agitated by the lack of a third fruit, commonly known as “malus domestica,” “Health and Wellness Center repellent,” or “Steve Jobs’ favorite fruit” — apples. While some students report rare sightings of this fruit in the dining hall, I think apples should be around way more frequently.
Out of all the different sweet and fleshy produce, apples are by far my favorite. What makes an apple such a delectable fruit is not merely its tantalizing flavor, its crisp structure, its smooth and sexy physique, or even its cultural influence (apples have dominated the tech industry, enticed a princess, and represented the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden). What I find most attractive about an apple is its edible accessibility. No utensils, finger strength, or specialized equipment are necessary for the consumption of an apple. All an apple demands for ingestion are your hand and mouth.
Now consider the two fruits typically distributed at mealtimes. An orange is a respectable food. Its phonetic exceptionality is praiseworthy and its cameo in one of the most classic knock-knock jokes of all time is a power move to say the least (although banana steals a bit of the spotlight). However, eating an orange without a knife or a cutting board is one of the most physically demanding tasks that can be performed at the dinner table. The sheer amount of strain placed on one’s forearms and fingers to peel back the leather-like skin is enough to inspire one to surrender within the first minute and reach for the only other fruit available — the banana.
No one is going to question the clout of a banana, so I will jump right into the heart of my argument. Peeling a banana is neither an enjoyable nor a humane process. I personally haven’t peeled a banana in years, but I can declare from observation that people do not seem to take pleasure in mercilessly skinning an innocent banana. It’s quite the scandalous task. Furthermore, the taste, texture, and scent of the banana are, in my humble opinion, abhorrent. And bananas after dinner? This is a grievously ill-timed blunder.
In conclusion, the student is left with two very undesirable fruit options, one which requires an exhaustingly physical workout to consume and another that requires, in essence, an act of barbarism. Now back to the apple. The ease of access to the flesh of an apple is a comfort like no other, especially in a time of such political uncertainty. The taste, texture, and physique are unparalleled, the health benefits — unmatched. Gazing upon an array of colorful apples in the Knorr Family Dining Room would bring me and many other students a feeling of ecstasy inexpressible through the medium of writing. Bon Appetit, I ask you to bring this article to fruition and grace the dining hall with the presence of many more apples this fall.
Merrit Pope is a freshman studying philosophy.