Leaf’s Lunches: Trinity

Take a cheeky peak at what it’s like to eat in another hallowed Hall. It’s Leaf, she’s lunching, and this time in Trinity.

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This week it was my pleasure in assigning Trinity College the task of lining my stomach before a heavy session of – well, working, but T.I.C.Y. (This Is Cambridge, Yeah? Use it.) And so I arranged a date with my chum Laura. She paid for the meal. Get in.

Chef’s Choice? No it’s MINE.

I went for the ‘Roast Supreme of Salmon’ with raisiny couscous, bits from the salad bar and marble cake with cream. The salmon was perfectly done: sweet and soft with the sour cream cutting cleanly through. Rate. Couscous isn’t really my thang but it was edible. Well, I ate it, so let’s hope it was.

The kids from the salad bar were an eclectic bunch; I particularly relished a grated carrot medley. Made me feel healthy. So did looking at fruit. Like this:

Feel healthier now?

Laura had the Goats Cheese, Mozzarella and Sun-dried Tomato Ravioli. I know. That’s how Trinity rolls these days. A vegetarian option that isn’t lentil-y?! Not. Really. Coping.

The ravioli pieces were impressively large and flat, like mini spaceships come to visit from Planet Great-Food. (Can we organise a cultural exchange? Facebook me!)

But that which really boggled my brain – or Brian, as it’s called at my little sister’s school on account of a boy’s habit of fainting at the word ‘brain’ – was the pudding. The portion was HUGE and the sponge deliriously moist.

For my friend who doesn’t like the word moist, I’ll just repeat that: it was moooooist. Mmm…oist.

Trinity’s Hall is pretty fly. Indeed if Trinity’s Hall were a man, I might be tempted to raise an eyebrow at it in an inviting manner. Intelligent-looking people sit at benches, talking about Derrida and Nietzsche under the baleful surveillance of famous alumni. The vibe enhances the food.

And I met a chick called Maya who told me that so repelled is she by cooked fruit that she can’t even hack blueberry muffins. Or apple crumble. Or carrot cake. WHAT?

Most importantly, you don’t have to pay for ketchup at Trinity. And this, sweet, sweet readers, all three of you, is a metaphor. It sums up my Trinity experience – free, tasty and liquid-fun.

Left: Spot the Muffins, get the FEAR.