Newscasters have been describing the bizarre California weather as a "winter mix." Winter mix? Back in middle school, winter mix was that melange of steamed broccoli, cauliflower, and lima beans that they dished out in the school cafeteria. We never knew why it was called winter mix, exactly. I guess winter was just the season for serving the world's most objectionable food.

This started me thinking about the institutional foods of the past, and the general nastiness we endured in the name of education. There was meat loaf, corn dogs, spaghetti with sauce (we were never informed as to the meat content), and the requisite tuna surprise. Our pizza often was laced with leftovers. If you were brave enough to look beneath the petrified canopy of cheese, you might see peas, pieces of corn, etc. There was also something called Panther Rib, which bore a slight resemblance to the McRib sandwich, but without the barbecue sauce or the taste. The panther part came from our mascot, although why we'd want to be eating our mascot, even for pretend, was a mystery to me. Maybe it was a Celtic, drinking-the-blood-of-the-fallen sort of thing.

The favorite entrees were burritos, macaroni and cheese, and breaded chicken strips. Even the most truant students rarely missed these days. The breading on the chicken strips always tasted like it had been wrapped in cellophane for months, but at least the chicken part was good. Sometimes you got a big ole' vein running through your chicken strip, and then you'd be too grossed out to continue. If this occurred, you would simply pass it around the table for inspection (the polite thing to do), and subsist on the mashed potatoes until you could make an illicit trip to the snack machine.

The milk was dependably palatable, unless the expiration date had passed (which was the case at least half the time). And it was a crap-shoot whether you'd get the carton open without the assistance of a fork. I know I wasn't the only one trying to drink milk out of that tiny cardboard pinpoint hole, which was like one of those devices you made to view an eclipse without burning your retinas out.

You may be wondering, how are school lunches across the globe? Well, I checked out the menu for a primary school in the UK, just to see how British kids are faring. Here's a sample lunch:

1. Minced beef and Yorkshire pudding
2. Sausage roll with tomato sauce
3. Chipped potatoes
4. Garden peas or baked beans
5. Cherry love cake

Man, that sounds about a thousand times better than anything we ever had in school. Those British brats sure are lucky. I am a little dubious about the cherry love cake (can someone tell me what this is?), but it sounds friendly enough. Cherries are good. Love is good. Cake is good. So why not combine them to make cherry love cake, even though it sounds like the main course at one of those hippie gatherings where Phish is playing in the background and you have to feed each other from oversized wooden bowls?

Oh well. So I was never served Yorkshire pudding in school. There are worse things to do without. Like bread. And water. Plus, there's no reason why I can't have Yorkshire pudding for every meal now, if I want. One of the things I love most about being a grown-up is that I can feed myself (legal drinking is another great perk—at least until you develop cirrhosis). No more scouring my lasagna for vegetable stowaways. No more peering into the kitchen to see what sort of culinary subterfuge is really going on amid the swirling hair nets and the general fog of war. And no more winter mix.

Except for the California kind, of course.