Out to Eat in Sioux Falls: USF Dining Hall
I have always admired the great undercover journalists. Nellie Bly got herself committed to an insane asylum to report on it from the inside. Upton Sinclair went undercover in Chicago’s stockyards to expose the meat industry.
Less than a week after Augustana beat the University of Sioux Falls (USF) in the Key to the City game, I decided it was my turn to do some investigative reporting of my own. I would infiltrate the dining hall to find out where the losers eat.
I traveled north through two blocks of no man’s land. The lawns were overgrown and tree branches breached the sidewalk. Near West 26th Street, I spotted a few crushed Twisted Teas in someone’s front yard. Maybe this marked the border.
I stepped across into enemy territory. I had never seen a campus so dead. The parking lots were full, but the sidewalks were deserted. It looked like what I imagined campuses were like in spring 2020. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched.
Then, in a quad full of sculptures: movement. A living person appeared. He was enormous.
“Excuse me, can you help me find the dining hall?” I asked.
“Sure. I’ll walk you,” he said.
Then I glanced down at his t-shirt. Cougars Football.
Oh no.
“So, are you visiting?” he asked.
“Yeah, just visiting a buddy,” I said.
“What’s his name?”
“Camden,” I said, buying time to craft an alibi.
“Did you guys go to high school together or something?”
“Yeah,” I said. “In Luverne.”
To avoid further interrogation, I pivoted to local lore. Luverne just built the world’s largest nutcracker and the town now has more nutcrackers than residents. He found this moderately amusing.
We finally arrived at the McDonald Center. Inside, I approached the woman at the register.
“I’m here to meet someone,” I said. “Can I buy a meal swipe?”
“Nah, you’re good, dude. Just go in,” she said.
The dining hall was dimly lit and beige. It was nearly 6 p.m., close to rush hour at Augustana, but this place was maybe 20% full. A week earlier I had waited 21 minutes for an “Augie Bowl.” Here, I couldn’t even find the line.
I claimed a table in the back as far from everyone as possible and went for a drink. The soda cups were barely bigger than a Dixie cup. Refills would be a challenge.
The coffee came from a machine, bland but inoffensive. Augustana’s brewed coffee is arguably better, but half the time there are no mugs and the other half of the time there’s no coffee. USF, at least, had coffee when I wanted it.
Next, food. With everything hidden under metal trays, I asked the workers for a little bit of everything. That meant a cheeseburger, a fried chicken sandwich and tater tots.
I also grabbed pepperoni pizza, pot roast and the most intact fillet from a tray of “lemon baked fish” sitting in a watery, oily puddle. Cod? Haddock? Pollock? Tilapia? Who’s to say.
I sat back down and put on my headphones, the universal language for “leave me alone.”
I started with the tots. They were crisp outside and moist inside, but needed more salt.
Then the cheeseburger. I lifted the bun to inspect the evidence: flecks of seasoning, a dark brown sear, cheese melted into the meat. It was juicy and beefy. Augustana’s burgers taste like someone started mixing wet cardboard into the meat and stopped right as people noticed. This one tasted like beef.
I expected the chicken sandwich to be a soggy, ultra-processed patty with the texture of a sponge. To my surprise, it was real chicken, juicy under a light, peppery breading. The bun was a little dry and some barbecue sauce would have helped, but the chicken itself was impressive.
I was beginning to feel like a defector.
The pizza looked promising. The bottom of the crust was golden brown, and I was impressed until I noticed the docking marks. Par-baked. My first bite confirmed it. The crust was thick and stale, and the waxy cheese, basic sauce and flavorless pepperoni had merged into one bland substance under the warming light. It was the worst slice of pizza I’ve ever had.
The pot roast looked like something you’d serve to a dog — and not a well-loved one. The carrots and potatoes were perfectly cooked, but the beef had essentially dissolved. The celery, though, was undercooked and crunchy. The roast was bland but tasted far better than it looked.
That left the fish.
White fish should be flaky. This was mushy in spots and strangely firm in others. I cut off a chunk and took a bite.
Nope. No thank you. Never again.
Whatever you’re imagining, it was worse. There was no lemon flavor, just chemicals and fishiness. I had made the mistake of letting it cool for 20 minutes. I reached for my Diet Dr. Pepper, found my cup empty and chased the taste with coffee. Whatever that mysterious fish was, it should have been left in the ocean.
Still reeling, I wandered over to the dessert table. USF, to my delight, had a tub of chocolate ice cream, something Augustana’s new soft-serve machine has never offered. Instead they opt for standard vanilla and a rotating selection of fruity flavors that taste disturbingly similar to off-brand Walmart Tums.
Unfortunately, the chocolate had already been scraped clean. I settled for a chocolate chip cookie, smaller than Augustana’s but chewy and chocolatey like one from a grocery store.
USF’s dining hall had a few good options, but after the pizza and the fish, I was ready to return to Augustana. For all its faults the Ordal Dining Hall is home, and I have no plans to defect.
