Is It Wrong for College Cafeterias to Not Serve Authentic Korean Food?

Modern forms of higher education are increasingly thought of as little more than luxurious day camps and status symbols where we violently submerge ourselves into debt in exchange for the benefit of getting a degree that may not even remotely lead to gainful employment. That being said, there is one perpetually undervalued experience gained from spending four years in a college or university: the mandatory exposure to and intermingling with different socioeconomic and ethnic groups. I'm talking about your roommates and classmates—and their food.

Being a student on America's increasingly diverse campuses is an experience achieved in few other places or times in life. Even if higher education continues to be viewed solely as playtime for the bourgeois and a debilitating source of debt for the rest, it doesn't discount the countless ways in which a white boy from Wyoming's life may be changed after smelling doenjang and kimchi emanating from his roommate's bedroom at 8 in the morning for a year or two.

But does the mashup of students at America's universities (and there are certainly exceptions to this rule) mean that college dining services should offer authentic food from the students' home cultures?

That's the argument that some college students nationwide seem to be making. And it may be a flawed one.

In a recent opinion article in The Daily Texan, the student newspaper of the University of Texas at Austin, a freshman named Sunny Kim wrote an impassioned plea for more authentic Korean food at UT, like the kind mom served at home: "I miss the aroma of freshly cooked white rice, smoked bulgogi and rich seaweed soup. I miss the taste of spicy kimchi fried rice, sweet galbi and nutty bibimbap. Unfortunately, none of these options are available to me on campus." Kim argues that it's the responsibility of the university to offer more authentic Asian food options on campus.

But I would implore Sunny to use college as a time for exploration, not just in academics, but in food, too.

Kim laments the Chick-Fil-A, Quiznos, and Wendy's of the UT Austin Student Union. And rightly so. Other than an occasional binge, that shit shouldn't be the food students, or anyone else, eat on the regular. But to go to college and expect the staff to know how to perfectly replicate your mom's cooking might be both unreasonable and undesirable.

Kim, of course, is not alone in her plea for more authentic ethnic foods on campuses nationwide. Oberlin College students have been complaining that the Americanized sushi and crappy Chinese fast food served on that campus has "blurred the line between culinary diversity and cultural appropriation." International students—of which there are growing numbers across US campuses—have complained. "When you're cooking a country's dish for other people, including ones who have never tried the original dish before, you're also representing the meaning of the dish as well as its culture," said Japanese Oberlin student, Tomoyo Joshi.

Should colleges serve diverse food offerings that reflect the backgrounds of their student bodies? Sure. But more importantly, let them serve healthy, well-made food from thoughtful chefs and not crap. College cafeterias shouldn't look like third-rate mall food courts. No one should eat fast-food shit on a regular basis.

But cultural appropriation, at least to me, seems not to be the problem, at least as far as food goes. After all, some of the best food in the world comes to us thanks to cultural appropriation. Curry or bánh mì, anyone? And one of the biggest benefits of going to college in a foreign country or living on a diverse campus is being exposed to other foods—and maybe even being forced out of necessity to jury rig a kitchen in your dorm room and cook for your roommates. And let them wake up to the smell of kimchi or matzoh ball soup or shakshouka—something they would never have experienced if they hadn't left home.

So what should students eat? Real food. And preferably stuff that's different from what Mom makes.