Caf receives bite-sized critic review

By: Kyle Tooley ~Sacramento’s Marlon Brando~

Photo curtosey of | World-renowed food critic Kyle Tooley observes college students in their natural habitat as he reviews “The Caf.”

I first stepped foot in the Hoff Dining Commons, commonly referred to as “The Caf,” on Saturday, March 25, 2017. My experience was one that I won’t soon forget.

After failing to be seated by the maitre d’, who posed quite an attitude from the beginning, I decided to seat myself.

I found a corner table with a nice view of the campus right next to a group of first-year students. After overhearing an extensive conversation from the young men about how “lit” they got the night before, I decided to relocate to the high-top tables.

A few minutes after reseating myself, I came to the realization that waiters were not something that “The Caf ” valued. I decided to explore the choices myself, listening to what the students were saying in the process.

“I really want some pasta, but the line is way too long,” an unidentified male student wearing a backwards cap and oversized headphones said. “I’ll just grab a sandwich instead. That pretzel bread is fire.”

I decided to start my culinary experience with a slice of pizza. My options were slim, but I eventually landed on a piece that had pepperoni and sausage. The sauce was underwhelming, the crust was average and the toppings seemed to be a bit undercooked. I question the qualifications of that pizza cook.

For my next adventure, I made my way over to what seemed to be the main line of food, complete with a long line of students discussing how “wrecked” they got by a test in the preceding class period.

By the time I got to the front of the line, I realized what a grave mistake I made by entering the line in the first place. Meatloaf was the food of the day, complete with rice and green beans. I took one look at the rice, seemingly dry as a bone, and swiftly made my way back to my table. No thanks.

I figured that I should salvage my evening with a nice glass of water. What’s the worst that could happen?

My cup was cracked, allowing most of the water to find its way onto my pants rather than in my mouth. Unbelievable.

My first instinct was to leave this mess before it could get any worse. However, cooler heads prevailed, and I decided to appease my hankering for some chocolate.

I discovered a corner of Hoff that offered cookies baked by a delightful older woman. This is where my experience took a turn for the better.

Well-baked. An outstanding ratio of cookie to chocolate. Soft, but not too soft. Crunchy, but not too crunchy. In essence, the perfect cookie.

Thank you, Hoff Dining Commons, for saving this review with your exquisite cookies. Had I not discovered these little slices of heaven, wrath would have been cast on your establishment.