Where is “Catch of the Day” REALLY caught?

It’s 11:45 a.m. You’ve just finished your two morning classes without any breakfast, and you’re STARVING. The idea of lunch is fueling your every step; your stomach is grumbling, mouth watering, and your brain foggy. Images of velvety macaroni and cheese, of glistening, crisp brussel sprouts, of flavor-bursting potatoes still warm from the oven flash through your head. Stepping out of the Science Center, dreams of the endless possibilities at the dining hall consume you as you barely refrain from breaking out into a sprint (what you’d give to have a scooter right now).

A fishy odor hits your nose like a garbage truck. The image of a seagull preying on a dead fish on the beach overcomes you. The scared, wide-eyed fish staring at you from the tank while you eat at seafood restaurants replaces it, followed by several other equally disturbing visions of inedible seafood. You groan, your excitement ruined. Today, you will be making a sandwich or a trusty salad bar bowl instead. Such is the reaction that “Catch of the Day” invokes in us. The smell permeates a 500-foot radius from the dhall, allowing tourists, VIPs, and students to enjoy the fish even if they do not intend to eat at Annenberg. How wonderful!

“Catch of the Day” (while it is also you, my reader) is “locally sourced” fish served in Harvard College dining halls. But with such a potent odor, where is this fish really caught? We’d like to take you through a couple of our ideas.

The puddle below the EXTREMELY HIGH pressure water fountain on the first floor of Greenough Hall

While one might have the expectation that filling up a water bottle is a relatively dry experience, this water fountain will make you reconsider. It has a really small bladder; constant awareness is key because if you leave your water bottle under it for more than two seconds, it will overflow, and your shoes WILL get soaked unless you hit a spread-eagle position that will garner weird looks from your proctor or entryway neighbors. Nevertheless, there’s enough water below this water fountain for thirsty Greenough residents that “Catch of the Day” fish probably live there. Yum!

The lake between the Science Center and the Yard

It’s monsoon season in Cambridge (April), and apparently it didn’t rain in the seventeenth century when this school was founded because holy sh*t! Does anything suck more than the bottom of your jeans being drenched in dirty water as you try to leap over the small pond, around an inconveniently placed pole? Short answer: Yes. It’s jumping to the side of the influx of tourists who are annoyingly well-prepared for the weather in their thigh-high rain boots (why do they have to stunt on us and rub their foresight in our grumpy faces?!). This month has taught me that brick is infiltration’s final boss, and that any drain grate you see on campus is, truly, just for decoration. Surely, this pond is capable of housing a school of fish (Cabot, we’re looking at you).

The puddle by John Harvard

Does the fish look like a battery today? Nope! It’s just the faint remnants of an acidic substance that didn’t evaporate in the fryer. We are sure that the puddle under our right-hand man every weekend is the peak ecosystem for life to thrive! So, if anyone sees HUDS staff on Saturday morning with gloves and a net, scooping your lunch off of the concrete, let your friends at Flyby know.

The tears of the new Quadlings

“Tears! Of! Joy!” chanted roughly twenty polar bears as they stormed into my, Christiana’s, room a few weeks ago to announce my new home. A couple of (manly) tears were shed by my blockmates and I as the reality of our situation began to sink in. Cry me a river (House) all the way to the Quad, my fellow cubs — we better start qualking now! Maybe we’ll catch the new Cabot fish swimming on down too.

The best thing about Harvard is the intellectual curiosity, persistence, and tenacity, not just of its students but of its staff as well. So, even if the surrounding waters of the Cambridge area are so cold the fish are encased in ice, and even if there is some uncertainty surrounding where it comes from, if the menu says there will be a local catch for lunch then, by all means — HUDS staff will make it happen! So, to help our friends out, take your pick of the alternatives we’ve offered if supplies ever get low and the bossman (the menu) is knocking at your door. But, in the meantime, if any HUDS staff would like to report where, in fact, the “fresh local catch” is coming from, you know where to find us.