Being a graduate student myself with my own kitchen, I've resisted some of these forced adjustments, but only to an extent. Tonight I find myself working on my take-home final that is due tomorrow (I thought I had an extra week. Lucky me). I realize it's 6pm and I'm trying to remember if I had lunch...or breakfast. Dirty dishes on my homework desk tell me "yes".
I open the fridge. Nothing looks appealing. I open the cupboard. Tomato sauce and some cream of chicken soup. Hm...what if I just made a casserole of sorts? That's usually just eggs, milk, and some sort of meat, right? And it's always good over rice.
Rice.
I fling open the cupboard above the stove. There's about a tablespoon of rice in a rolled up bag. That'll do. No where's the pot? Dirty? Hm.....I'll just mix the rice with the casserole and hope it cooks. I scoop the rice into a glass loaf-pan. Eggs come next. I only have one egg left in the carton and it expired exactly one month ago. Crack. Smells fine, so it joins the rice.
Chicken? I don't have time to cook it. Instead, I pull out a can of tuna--it's pretty much the same, right? Add a dash of milk (aka. whatever's left in the carton), a handful of grated cheese, and stir. Shouldn't there be vegetables? I pull out the half-used carton of mushrooms. They are black and squishy. Okay, no vegetables. The oven is preheated, I toss in half a can of cream-of-chicken and shove it in the oven.
Once it is done, it looks a bit like a loaf of tuna-bread with bits of uncooked rice in it. I scoop half onto my plate with the plastic, I-may-snap-in-half-any-day serving spoon. I try a cheesy forkful. It's absolutely scrumptrulescent (a college word for "exactly what my stomach didn't realize it needed").
Who would have thought?
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