Hot, Hot, Hot! Breakfast.

When Harvard students thought they could count on hot breakfast, they got their hearts broken like eggs into a HUDS dumpster.  So it was with great trepidation that FM rolled out of bed one morning to try out the Quincy Grille’s new breakfast offerings.

Quincy Grille is very different in the morning.  It is mostly empty, with only a one in three chance that there will be some guy working on a problem set you haven’t started yet, and only a one in four chance that he will come up to you and ask about problem number five.

To one side, the dining hall staircase watches jealously, like a bested ex-girlfriend.  To the other, the morning news hums softly away on a mounted TV screen, a metronome of normality outside the Harvard bubble. The place does feel a bit desolate in comparison to its nocturnal glory, but only until the food comes.

FM sampled several of the offerings. The egg and cheese quesadilla was cheesy and rambunctious, the nutella toast light and European, the carrots with ranch dipping sauce crunchy and belligerent.  More impressively, it was all hot.   One small detractor was the sausage burrito: a misnomer, it was in fact a quesadilla.

In addition, the sausage had neither been chopped up nor flattened, but rather protruded with phallic obscenity in its full, undiminished form.

Overall, though, it was exquisite.  Furthermore, any food can be made extra delicious with ranch dressing.  And for those who can bear looking at empty pans where bacon once sizzled without giving into violent fits of nostalgia, the beverages and light fare of the dining hall are an attractive complement.

For those interested,  e-mail the Quincy Grille managers—the hot breakfast was only a trial program, but it’ll return if interest is deemed sufficient.