THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, January 7, 1996 TAG: 9601110551
SECTION: REAL LIFE PAGE: K1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY KRYS STEFANSKY, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 128 lines
LUNCH IS CHEAP. Of course, the bridge-tunnel toll eats up 20 bucks just to get there and back. And the trip over to the hamlet of Eastville on the Eastern Shore takes nearly an hour.
But this is the Maxim's of high school cafeterias. If they rated it, Northampton High would have a five-star eatery.
Zach Annon couldn't care less. He doesn't see the potted plants, the customer-driven menu, the entrees to fit every diner's mood. He doesn't have time to talk.
The husky junior, a tackle on Northampton's football team, is hunched over a plate loaded with two meatball subs and all the trimmings.
All for a buck. Try that at Maxim's. And you don't have to tip.
Up until five years ago, the kids here had no ambiance, no piped-in music, no special foods, it was pretty much your basic fish-sticks-and-burgers school cafeteria.
That's when Gloria Spady decided she'd had enough of that baloney. Spady, the head chef, undisputed kitchen queen, the cafeteria manager, asked what the kids wanted.
They said ``real food.'' Since then she's made a challenge and an art of cooking for both picky eaters and bottomless pits.
``We were going broke,'' says Paul Custis, the school's principal. He's chatting up his students as they file past him to the food. He tells how Spady bends over backwards to please the teen-agers. ``She's kid friendly,'' Custis says, and then adds wistfully, ``I just keep waiting for the '60s music.''
To make the cafeteria a fun place to be in the middle of the day, Spady gave the place elegance. She posted the day's menu on a chalkboard, bistro-style, put flowers on the tables, usually silk. The kids asked for music. They got it, a different station every day of the week. None of it is from the '60s.
``And if it's not the right station, they tell you,'' Spady said. She and the kitchen staff dread Tuesdays. ``Sometimes when the day is over and we had hard rock, we don't know if we're coming or going or what.''
It's not easy satisfying high school diners whose hormones run amuck. Spady says she doesn't do it alone, sings the praises of her seven kitchen ladies and one fellow. Their food keeps about 800 Yellow Jackets happily humming until the next meal. By now, the staff is as familiar with their quixotic tastebuds as their mothers are.
``Oh, they like pizza, cheeseburgers, chicken nuggets. That's the tops,'' Spady says, shifting her weight from one ample hip to the other and running a big spoon through a tub of spaghetti sauce. ``And lasagna, they love lasagna. They don't like chili. And anything with beans in it they sort of laugh at. Baked chicken they don't care for, but they like anything from different cultures, like Chinese food or Mexican.''
When the student government association or one of the kids stops by to make a menu suggestion, Spady has just one one request: ``Don't ask me for anything wild, now. I have to follow the government guidelines.''
Sophomore Nathan Charnock sticks his head into the kitchen and drops hints to Spady whenever he can catch her.
``He always wants bagels and tells me fried apples would be good for breakfast,'' she says, laughing.
Charnock chooses spaghetti today and pronounces it excellent.
``I like to tell her when something was good,'' says the pencil-thin teen, ``and give her feedback on how we liked it.
``They've never had bagels here in the two years I've been here,'' he says, shaking his head. ``Bagels and toast. That's the way to go. And they've never had apple dumplings. But they do a good job.''
Other kids aren't so particular about what's for lunch as long as there's lots of it. Like David Stiles, a senior, a man of many uniforms. Depending on the season, his 6-foot 4-inch 200-pound frame is busy as wide receiver, forward or first baseman.
``I usually get a double lunch every day,'' he says. Six minutes past the start of the meal he's hunched over a plate bare as a pitcher's mound in winter. Today he's in a hurry, so one helping of pork and noodles had to do. Not as painful as leaving behind a second cheese steak sub, his all-time favorite.
But for every big eater, there's a student with a picky palate.
A few tables over, Mark Somers has nothing left on his plate but four raisins, plucked from his cookie. His fries are gone, so is his ham and cheese, apple and milk.
``Don't like raisins,'' says the senior.
Vance Martin has his usual today, a cheeseburger and two orders of fries.
``I eat the same meal every day except when I have to lose weight because I wrestle. Then I get spaghetti with no sauce, you know, just the noodles,'' he says.
But it's not all sugar and spice for Spady. Kids give her an earful when they don't like something.
``It used to bother me when they didn't like something,'' says Spady, who's been cooking for the kids since she started in the kitchen in 1979. ``But they don't like some things at home, either.''
But today, lunch is passing the test.
``Today, it's right good,'' pronounces Charmaine Ross, a senior digging into her spaghetti with a side of fries.
``I'm glad they finally got Miracle Whip,'' says Aleisha Spady, who's no relation to the cafeteria manager, waving her ham sandwich.
La'Wanda Jarvis barely looks up from a plate of pork and noodles to add, ``They should try this more. It's good.''
Praise to warm Spady's heart. But few appreciate her efforts more than Zack Annon.
Behind him, on the floor, is one of Mrs. Spady's potted plants, well out of the way of business. In its place on the table is a big jar of parmesan cheese.
``I always get a double lunch,'' the 6-foot-5-inch football player says, and then grins like he invented sliced bread. He and his buddies are sitting a stone's throw from the tray return window. ``We sit here because people give us food when they turn in their lunch trays.''
Toward the end of the lunch bell, Andy Sterrett and Jonathan Toland discover a bonus in the kitchen. For dessert, the two buy little sacks of egg rolls and come back to sit down across from Annon.
After two meatball subs, two servings of cabbage, three apples, two chocolate milks and one cookie Annon looks up and sees the Chinese food. ``Hey, can I have one of those?'' ILLUSTRATION: HUY NGUYEN COLOR PHOTOS/The Virginian-Pilot
LEFT: The offerings at Northampton High on the Eastern Shore are
designed to please picky eaters or bottomless pits. BELOW: Jason
Sparrow enjoys his meal amid a decor of poinsettias and peppy
posters.
Photo
HUY NGUYEN/The Virginian-Pilot
Edna Neal fills out the menu board, which offers students an
inexpensive selection of foods.
by CNB