Got a CPU for SFO-HNL (on a 7M9 but still won’t complain) and fan pre-select dinner. Any suggestions on which is the tastiest/most filling?

Just like the title says.... it should say Them
My 34(f) friend 36(f) and I have known each other for 20 years. We have bonded over music, concerts, art and our love for the outdoors. It's been great. But lately as in the last 5 years....she always suggests we try new restaurants, which I am down for since I love trying new food and I love all sorts of food. However, here's the good part. She always seems to get the "American" dish at all these different restaurants. Chicken tenders ,nuggets, fries, etc...and i am always left alone to actually try the new food. If they dont have her staples, she will just order basic chicken or a salad. So this keeps happening and it's not like we can discuss how the food was because she's not actually eating any real dishes from the menu. It's like I'm with a toddler. And I said that to her last time, about 3 nights ago, I said you have the palette of a toddler, you never try anything new so there is no point in us going out to eat at these different restaurants. The last time we were at a seafood restaurant which I love, and she asked for fries and a tenders with a house salad...again. and I am over here eating shrimp and oysters and fettuccine Alfredo and she's telling me how "gross" it is?!?! And I say you suggested this place ! And she said she heard the margaritas were great. Umm..no.... so that's when I said everything to her and that night she text me that I was an AH.... was I too harsh ? I also told her I'm not going to any restaurants with her but a coffee shop, and unless we are going to a place that is specifically for burgers, tender, fries etc....to NOT suggest we go to a new restaurant because she gets the same thing anywhere we go. Imagine how weird it was at a Thai restaurant while I was eating pad Thai and minced beef, she was eating fries ?!

This is from the Aldi Finds flyer for next week, 5/15 - 5/21. So excited for these! Just took the last one out of the freezer a few weeks ago for Easter. I usually buy 4 of them to last the year - even my mom who is suspicious of any GF food enjoys the Aldi GF cheesecake, lol.

My boyfriend is lactose intolerant and I'm quite bad at cooking. We have a poor diet if I'm going to be honest. He takes lactaid as much as possible,I usually make pasta meals 9 times out of 10. A lot of it is Mac n Cheese and isn't really not going well for him even with the lactaid. I would like some suggestions. I already make a decent amount for Hamburger Helper, and try to make spaghetti or sloppy joes. I'm looking for some very easy crockpot, boxed meals or some with little cooking. Lactaid milk is very expensive and I'm hoping to try and find something that just doesn't use milk(and milk products like Alfredo or cheese). Please help.

“Brah, I’m glad that shift was over. ‘Tang ina can’t believe we gotta head back in 12 hours. Can’t take anymore night shifts. It’s killing me.”
“Migs brah, relax. It’s hardly the night shift.”
“ ‘pre, it’s midnight.”
“Yo, be glad we get to go home. Marcy, Ting, Lim, those poor fucks just clocked in.” Anthony glanced over at the whiteboard with a handwritten menu:
Meal A
Bisteak and Rice
Meal B
Pansit Canton with hot dogs
Meal C
Menudo Rice + 1 Lumpia
Special
Beef Pares (Beef Stew)
“Yo, so what you having, my turn to buy.”
“Yah, it’s always your turn to buy when we end up at a cheap diner like this.”
“Ok, you get your own..”
“Joke lang ‘pre, relax. I’ll have the Special. Sorry, been a long shift.”
“Manong, dalawang Special ho.” two specials please.
The old man behind the carinderia finished ringing up the customer that was ahead of Miguel and Anthony. Another shift worker, a woman in scrubs heading home from a long shift at the hospital.
The old man walked over to the back wall, grabbed two plates two bowls and began filling in the order for two specials which consisted of a plate of white rice and a bowl of oily pares (beef stew, street vendor style).
Miguel and Anthony frequented Robinson’s almost every night shift. It was a bare bones type of carinderia with green tile walls andSan Miguel Beer poster ads. One wall had a large corner to corner mirror that made the place look bigger than what it actually was. The tables were cheap foldable picnic tables draped with thick see-through plastic. The front windows were ceiling to floor like most of the restaurants on the strip except for some reason, they were tinted. Food was also cheap but portions were big.
Taste was another story. To the pair of them, the food tasted alright. There were definitely other options in the vicinity. A lot of restaurants and diners in the area stayed open late to feed the influx of commuting shift workers in the neighborhood. Some even stayed open 24 hours to capitalize on the breakfast crowd coming in from a graveyard shift.
Miguel and Anthony certainly weren’t lacking in options, but something about the food kept them coming back. There was a certain flavour to the ulam which oddly enough, energized them a little bit. They had the feeling of life returning to their tired over worked bodies. Over the months, both of them had certainly tried checking out the other carinderias, but they never had the sense of satiety that they would get from Robinson’s. Satiety was the word they could best describe their end of meal feeling. It wasn’t a satisfying meal, but it did leave a particular taste at the end. The kind that makes you want more regardless of how full up you felt.
They couldn’t quite put their finger on what that flavour in the food was; that strange but tasty flavour. Some of the dishes that Manong served tasted plain, even bland but with a hint of that… something. It was strongest whenever Manong had a special for the day. His specials were random and there was no way of knowing when he’d have a special dish prepared. You just had to be there at the right time.
For tired shift workers like Miguel and Anthony, they never really put too much thought into why they liked the food. They just did, but at the same time they didn’t. And like most people in their situation, they just decided to brush it off as routine, habit, perhaps a familiarity of the homeland.
Manong, who served them was not Robinson. No one knew who Robinson was. Just like every other store on the strip named Aleng Rosa, Marites Bakery, Tita Lidia’s Panderia. Rosa, Marites, Lidia, Robinson, all could have just been names pulled out of a hat and whoever worked at the establishments didn’t think too much of the history of the store names or who they were. To everyone on the strip, work was work, and a business was a business.
Manong was just Manong. He was an old sinewy man with a lazy eye and white oily hair. Old as he looked he, moved like someone half his age. He would float between the front carinderia and the back kitchen like a silent wraith, often times carrying refills of food trays with ease.
“Brah, so did you hear about Marcia’s aunt. Tita Neng?” Miguel asked as they sat down at their table, positioned across from the television that played local Filipino news.
“Yah, dude, that’s rough,” Anthony replied as he drizzled spicy vinegar over his beef stew.
“Thank god their insured right?”
“Dude what’s wrong with you? That shit was fucked up! In broad daylight too. Like great they can afford the hospital, but she didn’t have to be in that situation you know? It’s not like she got hit by a car or nothing. Dude went savage on her, for no reason!”
“Yah…” Anthony reflected. “That was fucked up.”
“Things are getting bad. I mean used to be hard just getting around at night. Who know’s who you’ll run into. But tang ina man, these fuckers attacking us during the day now. And for what fucking reason?” Miguel began to chomp down on his food a little bit faster now.
“They hated us from before pare. But back then they ignored us. Shit talk here, shit talk there, but that’s all it was, shit talk. They left us alone. We kept to our side of the line. But now they full on hate us! They blaming us for takin jobs, bringing the fucking virus. Dude doesn’t matter if you’re Chinese, Viet, Filipino. We all look the same to them. Fuck this world bro.” Anthony felt himself getting worked up. He realized if he kept going like this, it would be hard for him to sleep later.
He decided to steer the conversation back to Tita Neng and Marcia. No point in getting worked up so late. “So how’s Marcia anyway? She ok?”
“Yah, she’s with Tita Neng. She’ll be there a while till Neng’s out. Probably be a few days to a week, seeing how that asshole got her.”
“Wow, a week, how’d she score a whole week off?”
“I dunno brah, but company told her take as much time as she needed to take care of her aunt. I never asked though if it was paid. Who knows. You know if this shit never made the news, they probably wouldn’t have given any time off at all you know. These fuckers won’t give a damn until all of the sudden there’s a camera on them.”
Anthony choked a little bit. “Fuck that’s true. They only care if people got eyes on them. Imagine, if this news didn’t go public, they probably would’ve wiped their hands and said not their problem.”
Miguel grabbed the vinegar from Anthony’s side of the table and started adding more to his broth. He was getting a little heated up as well but wasn’t sure if it was the topic of conversation or the food giving him a second wind.
“Brah, the pares is good today,” he mumbled.
Anthony nodded in agreement, “mmhmm.”
“There’s a donation going on if you wanna contribute. Again we don’t know if Marcia’s getting time off with pay, but everyone’s just assuming she isn’t. Hard to ask with her being in her state, taking care of Neng at the hospital. So we just gonna collect some stuff, food, cash, you know. Help with the rent and all.”
Anthony nodded as he looked up at the television. It was a repeat news story of Tita Neng’s encounter.
“…Melinda Torres, a 58 year old, Filipino shift worker who was assaulted while walking home in the morning is now recovering at St. Joseph’s hospital. Police have surveilled CCTV footage of the incident Police Investigators have identified the attacker as Anthony King, 42, who is now facing charges of a hate crime on top of assault and battery. Anthony King is still at large and police are urging anyone with information of his whereabouts to contact them or CRIMESTOPPERS…”
“Fucked up,” Miguel says as he turned over to yell at Manong, “be careful when you go out. You never know what these fucks will do these days. They’re just hating on all of us, but what’s worse is they hitting the old ones like you, and Tita Neng over there.”
Manong just stared at the tv, with the same blank look he had every night, and all day for all they knew. He stood there silently, stoically with his one lazy eye unblinking, unphased by either the news report or Miguel’s sudden attempt at conversing with him.
Miguel meanwhile, stared at him for a few seconds, then slowly turned back to his food. Anthony replied, “you’d think he’d be a bit concerned for himself eh. I mean, even though he’s got kababayan (countrymen)all around here, who knows who’s walking down these streets these days.”
“Brah, I don’t think he leaves this place,” Miguel chuckled.
“Yah I guess you’re right.”
“Ingatan mo ang saril nyo”. (watch out for yourelves)The both of them suddenly heard from behind the counter. The both of them turned to look back, but Manong just stood there in the same position as always. Sometimes he was watching TV, sometimes he was just sitting down staring at the wall, and sometimes, he was at the back, disappeared behind the kitchen, doing what the both of them thought people did behind the kitchen. Cook, chop, clean, or maybe in Manong’s case, just a whole lot more staring into nowhere.
“You know, I don’t think I ever heard him talk,” Anthony said.
“Nah, don’t think so brah.”
After a few seconds, he turned back around over to their food and began eating again.
“Yo Ton,” Miguel whispered, “we’ve been coming here for months now, I haven’t seen anyone else work here except old Manong over there.”
“Yah same, I think he run’s this place all on his own”.
“You mean he does the cooking, cleaning, cash, everything? Nah he’s gotta have some help.”
Anthony thought back and tried to recall how the other businesses in the area operated. There were typically two people at least at every store. Even if on a certain hour you’d see one person at cash, or one person at a desk, there would always be another one out back, or out somewhere doing errands. Running a business, no matter how small on the strip was never a solo operation.
It was possible Anthony thought but moving inventory, getting supplies, cleaning the shops, all required some help. And as tight knit as the community was, there was only ever so much favors one could pull from the neighbors before they start declining.
He thought back to when he came to Robinson’s during the day and tried to remember if there was anyone else running the shop or if there was help. Him and Miguel usually just came there after their night shifts, but he recalled swinging by a few days on the weekends on his own when he didn’t feel like cooking, or he felt he needed something quick and cheap to eat. He couldn’t remember at all if old Manong had a helper.
Miguel broke his chain of thought, “You know I heard he was an ex merc from the Marcos era. Body guard or some shit.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Anthony snickered. “You believe all the tsismis huh?”
“Nah man, well, yah sure, tsismis is tsismis, but you know how rumors go? If it’s the same story, it’s gotta be true. And everyone sayin’, Manong over there is an ex merc.
Anthony chuckled as he spooned the last bits of sabaw (sauce)over his rice, “Dude, your logic”
“Yo just look at him. Stiff as a board, always looking silent and deadly. You see the dude ever slouch or anything? My titos and shit were all in the army, and you know, posture, it stays with you.”
“Even an ex soldier can’t do things alone man, specially at his age.”
“Huh what?” Miguel retorted with a puzzled look. “Oh shit yah, ok hear me out. He’s probably like super strong and shit. Ex merc you know, probably seen stuff. Specially back in those days you know. Fucked up shit. Figures why he’d do things on his own. Probably can’t trust no body. Look at that lazy eye of his too. Probably got stabbed or shot. Tang ina’s astig (badass)bro.”
“Dude, you even know what you’re talking about? Like Marcos era? You know how long ago that was? Manong over there’s probably gotta be over a 100 years old to survive the Marcos era.”
“Well”, Miguel shouted, but suddenly remembered where he was and who he was talking about, and where that person was, “Well,” he hushed down “he probably is a 100. Look at him.”
“Migs, I am looking at him, and there’s no way. No way pare. I mean yah, he looks old, but dude moves like he’s 20. He can’t be that old.”
The door of Robinson’s suddenly opened and the two of them stopped their conversation to have a glance. Normally there’s always the quick glance and stare when someone walks through, especially at that time of the night. It would be a mix of curiosity and hopefulness. Curious to see who would be walking in so late at night, and hopeful to see if it was someone they knew so they could start a late night gossip session. But at this particular moment, the stares gave way to a rapid hint of caution which triggered the two of them to immediately look away and back down on their food.
He was a tall, hefty man with big arms, thick thighs, and a big thick belly. He was wide and just plain big. Not the slow and soft kind of big, but the sort of big that can do damage, like a truck or a wild boar. He even grunted a bit as he surveyed the restaurant, eyes meandering Robinson’s with a cynical gaze.
“I thought I smelled something off,” the stranger snorted as he slowly walked, more like staggered, to the counter of Robinson’s. It wasn’t the drunk or high kind of staggering but more so of a bravado step with an air of arrogance behind the walk leaving behind a strange cloud of hate.
“Wha d’you gotta eat in this kinda place pops? I smell fish heads, you fryin’ fish back there?”
Anthony and Miguel gave each other a cautionary glance. They both knew Manong never served seafood, and they both knew what the stranger meant when he referred to the smell of fish heads.
Manong glanced at the customer, with his usual look; unchanging, stoic, emotionless. He took both of his hands and fanned them outward towards the counter of food laid out: the beef stew, fried noodles, and beef steaks.
“God damn old man. Food inspector come by and check your place out yet? What is this shit? You leave this out in the open like this? Probably not even warm?”
He stared at Manong as he mouthed the word warm, and while doing so he took his index finger and dipped it into the pan of beef stew, stirred it around for
1…2…3… seconds, lifted it off and stuck his finger in his mouth.
“It’s warm I’ll give you that much, but it’s fuckin disgusting. What the hell is this pig slop” He spat out onto the floor. Manong just continued to stare.
Miguel turned around when he heard the stranger spit on the floor. Something started to boil up inside of him. Anthony sensed this and grabbed him by the forearm, “psst, huy, relax lang pare”
Miguel turned slowly back to his place, torn and feeling helpless. He knew the stranger with the arrogant walk was up to no good. Miguel just kept getting flashbacks in his head about the news report and his conversations with Marcia about Tita Neng in the hospital. What panicked him most among all the ideas and scenarios running through his head was, this was not Anthony King, the suspect that had attacked Tita Neng in the streets. This was someone else completely. The feeling of being trapped and helpless choked him.
In a hushed tone, as if he could read his thoughts, Anthony whispered, “I know brah, but let’s wait. Relax lang. Maybe he’ll leave. Maybe he’s just all talk. Relax, chill”
The stranger sensed movement behind him, looked back with a smirk, then turned his gaze back at Manong. With the same finger that he just licked the stew from, he went and poked at the fried noodles, and began to stir just like he did with the beef stew.
Anthony was still holding on to Miguel’s forearm and as he watched the stranger stir at the noodles, his grip got harder, and sweat started to pour down his forehead.
“Y’all come here, serve this shit,” the stranger talked as he continued to stir the noodles with his finger. “And don’t even have the decency to greet your customers. Where’s the service old man?” His finger pushed deeper into the pan of fried noodles, submerging his knuckles, his palms, then his whole fist.
“You just gonna stare at me old guy? Or you gonna serve me? Or do I gotta serve myself?”
Manong broke his stare, calmly turned around, and grabbed a plate from the back counter, hardly un-phased by the stranger’s words and actions. He turned back around with the plate, grabbed a serving spoon and began to spoon the plate with fried noodles.
The stranger laughed, the arrogance and the cloud of hate that trailed behind began to rise, and fill the room with it’s invisible aura. He looked left, right, looked back at Miguel and Anthony sitting at the table. At this point Miguel had turned around to watch the stranger again so the two of them were now transfixed at the scene.
The stranger smile turned sharply into a grimace. He spun back to face Manong, lifted his hand out of the plate of noodles, and flicked them at Manong’s face. “FUCK. You can’t get the hint can you? I don’t know how you got into this country. But you know what old man?”
The stranger turns around to face Anthony and Miguel, “And this goes for you two pricks as well”
The stranger turns back to face Manong, “stop serving this slop and go back to your fucking country, you mother, fuckin…”.
And with that last word the stranger grabbed hold of another fist full of noodles and smeared them over Manong’s face. 1 second…. 2 second… 3 seconds… 4… seconds… he continued to smear. He pulled back his hand, turned around gave a grim smile to Anthony and Miguel, who were now standing up. Faces full of shock, anger, fear, desperation, anxiety, sadness, a mixture of emotions that kept them frozen in place. Fight or flight, both actions were being cancelled out with too many thoughts, too many countering emotions, too many what if scenarios floating in their heads.
The stranger glared at Anthony and Miguel, “This is what we do to your kind. You’re not welcome here no more,”
The stranger turns around and begins to punch Manong in the face with the same noodle smeared hands.
That was all Miguel could handle. Anthony stood there still in shock, but Miguel rushed over to the stranger and tried to wrestle his punching arm back to stop the barrage of fists landing on Manong’s face.
“Get the fuck off him you prick. Why you gotta go and hit an old man for you fucking piece of shit!”
The stranger had size over Miguel, though Miguel was able to hold back his punches, his other arm was free and strong enough to elbow Miguel hard in the ribs which made Miguel immediately let go.
“You all are everywhere, like god damn roaches”, he spat at Miguel.
Miguel furious took a deep breath and launched himself at the stranger. With no real experience in fighting, all he could do was grab hold of the stranger with a bear hug to the waist, which was unfortunate for Miguel as with the stranger’s reach, he was able to pummel him with both arms. Elbows to the back. Punches to the ribs.
Miguel held on tighter, frustrated, in pain, tears rolling down his face while the stranger continued his barrage of elbows, punches, and insults. Anthony stood frozen mouth gaped, shock and fear rooting him in place.
“You fucking pieces of shit, take every god damn street and store in our country, take every fuckin’ business, and all you do is ruin things for everyone.” The stranger continued to beat down, Miguel’s strength fading, his grip on the stranger loosening as he took multiple punches to the ribs and back.
“You come here with your shit food, your shit way of life, ruining MY country. First you bring drugs, then you bring the fucking virus, then you take all our fuckin money living off our welfare system. I should call immigration on the lot of you. You got papers boy?”
Miguel dropped to his knees. Hurt both physically from barrage of punches and elbows and hurt emotionally from the insults and the slurs that were flung with every hit.
“If you won’t go back to where you came from, I’ll kick you out myself” the stranger smiled. Be balled his hand into one giant fist and raised it high over his head, while his other hand grabbed hold of Miguel’s hair, holding him steady for the final blow.
Both Miguel and Anthony saw the fist raised. They both knew what was coming, but neither could stop it. Miguel was too weak from the beating and Anthony was still too frozen with fear to move. They both thought of Tita Neng in the hospital. Miguel was next. He’ll be in the hospital at St. Josephs with her, that is if he survives the final blow.
At this point, Miguel began to experience what most would describe as the slow motion of the last moments of life. Or at least what he thought would be his last moments. They were filled with dread and fear. He could feel the hatred pouring out of the stranger. How could anyone have so much anger and hatred towards anybody?
The aura of hate filled the room and engulfed him entirely. He felt as if his entire being was becoming smothered and about to be wiped out. He could feel all that hateful energy wrap him like a thick heavy net and the anger collecting into a single point in the stranger’s fist. All that hate bottled up in one fist would be crashing down on him soon. Miguel passed out from exhaustion. Anthony fainted from shock.
And then a darker energy entered the room. Originally it was just the stranger and his anger filling up the space. But then, something else emerged. It was darker than black. It was primal. It was old. And It, was hungry.
…
Miguel and Anthony woke up both groggy un aware of what was going on. It took a few seconds for them to regain their senses. They both assumed they had blacked out, but how?
They sit back. Miguel’s ribs and body ached. Luckily the stranger had only been hitting him in the back and ribs, and not the face.
Wait a minute he thought. The stranger must have hit him in the head, otherwise why would he have blacked out?
But then it occurred to him that his head wasn’t hurting. He did have a headache, but not from a punch to the head. More of a groggy, hung over feeling headache, the type one gets from sleeping in a strange position and getting a stiff neck.
Anthony opens his eyes, how did I black out he thought? Did the stranger go after me after finishing off Miguel? He felt no pain in his body, nothing hurt but his head, but it was the same groggy stiff necked pain that Miguel was experiencing.
“Bro, what the fuck happend” Miguel asked
“Pare I don’t know, pare. Fuck. My head hurts.”
“All I remember was I thought I was done for. I remember thinking that I was either going to see Tita Neng in the hospital or see my dad up in heaven.”
“Bro, I’m sorry I couldn’t step in, I tried, I mean, I wanted to, fuck I dont know I’m so sorry bro”
“It’s alright pare. Ok lang, we’re both ok, somewhat. I dunno. Dude where are we?”
They both looked around. There were green tiled walls with posters of San Miguel Beer, one wall with corner to corner mirror to make the place look bigger, foldable picnic tables draped with thick clear plastic, a TV playing local community news, this time playing the morning weather and traffic report. Hazy sunlight was shining through the tinted glass windows of the front of the restaurant. They were at Robinson’s.
Manong was in front of the kitchen counter with a mop and bucket cleaning the floor. His face, blank, stoic, emotionless. He swished the mop with strong, wide strokes, and when he rung the mop into the bucket, his sinewy arms tightened into coils of hard leather. For an old man, he moved like a teenager, albeit slow and methodical.
“Manong,” Miguel asked
“Ok lang kayo? Anong nangyari ka gabe? Where did that asshole go”
Silence.
Manong did one last swish of the mop into the bucket and wheeled them both back behind the counter and into the kitchen. Miguel and Anthony just looked at each other, confused, baffled, and stiff.
“Dude” Anthony grimaced “Like what the hell happened last night?”
“I don’t know, but I feel like shit right now. Do you think we should go to the police?”
Anthony sat in silence not knowing what to say or do. As he became more and more awake, the memories of the night before became more and more clear, but the gap between now and the moment the stranger was about to hit Miguel in the face was a huge black hole.
“Dude, what time is it?” Miguel asked.
Anthony looked at his phone, “6am”
“Alright, ok so we got 6 hours before clocking in to figure out what we’re going to do”
“Or figure out what happened last night bro”
The kitchen door swung open and Manong walked out with a big tray of food for the carinderia counter. Face emotionless as ever, not even showing signs of strain as he lifted the tray into the heating spot of the counter. After placing the tray in it’s slot, he turned around to the white board menu above the kitchen counter and began wiping the old menu out and replacing it with the days and evenings options.
Meal A
Bisteak and rice + 1 lumpia
Meal B
Pansit canton with beef slices
Meal C
Pork adobo and rice
Special
Lechon Kawali
Glossary of terms:
‘tang ina: short for putang ina. Mother Fucker.
‘pre: short for Pare. Colloquial term for Bro.
Brah: another term for Bro. Evolved from the word Brad.(Br-AH-d) or Brother.
Manong: A term reserved for an older male person. Typically males, family or strangers would be referred to as uncle or Tito. Manong is an older Tito.

“Brah, I’m glad that shift was over. ‘Tang ina can’t believe we gotta head back in 12 hours. Can’t take anymore night shifts. It’s killing me.”
“Migs brah, relax. It’s hardly the night shift.”
“ ‘pre, it’s midnight.”
“Yo, be glad we get to go home. Marcy, Ting, Lim, those poor fucks just clocked in.” Anthony glanced over at the whiteboard with a handwritten menu:
Meal A
Bisteak and Rice
Meal B
Pansit Canton with hot dogs
Meal C
Menudo Rice + 1 Lumpia
Special
Beef Pares (Beef Stew)
“Yo, so what you having, my turn to buy.”
“Yah, it’s always your turn to buy when we end up at a cheap diner like this.”
“Ok, you get your own..”
“Joke lang ‘pre, relax. I’ll have the Special. Sorry, been a long shift.”
“Manong, dalawang Special ho.” two specials please.
The old man behind the carinderia finished ringing up the customer that was ahead of Miguel and Anthony. Another shift worker, a woman in scrubs heading home from a long shift at the hospital.
The old man walked over to the back wall, grabbed two plates two bowls and began filling in the order for two specials which consisted of a plate of white rice and a bowl of oily pares (beef stew, street vendor style).
Miguel and Anthony frequented Robinson’s almost every night shift. It was a bare bones type of carinderia with green tile walls andSan Miguel Beer poster ads. One wall had a large corner to corner mirror that made the place look bigger than what it actually was. The tables were cheap foldable picnic tables draped with thick see-through plastic. The front windows were ceiling to floor like most of the restaurants on the strip except for some reason, they were tinted. Food was also cheap but portions were big.
Taste was another story. To the pair of them, the food tasted alright. There were definitely other options in the vicinity. A lot of restaurants and diners in the area stayed open late to feed the influx of commuting shift workers in the neighborhood. Some even stayed open 24 hours to capitalize on the breakfast crowd coming in from a graveyard shift.
Miguel and Anthony certainly weren’t lacking in options, but something about the food kept them coming back. There was a certain flavour to the ulam which oddly enough, energized them a little bit. They had the feeling of life returning to their tired over worked bodies. Over the months, both of them had certainly tried checking out the other carinderias, but they never had the sense of satiety that they would get from Robinson’s. Satiety was the word they could best describe their end of meal feeling. It wasn’t a satisfying meal, but it did leave a particular taste at the end. The kind that makes you want more regardless of how full up you felt.
They couldn’t quite put their finger on what that flavour in the food was; that strange but tasty flavour. Some of the dishes that Manong served tasted plain, even bland but with a hint of that… something. It was strongest whenever Manong had a special for the day. His specials were random and there was no way of knowing when he’d have a special dish prepared. You just had to be there at the right time.
For tired shift workers like Miguel and Anthony, they never really put too much thought into why they liked the food. They just did, but at the same time they didn’t. And like most people in their situation, they just decided to brush it off as routine, habit, perhaps a familiarity of the homeland.
Manong, who served them was not Robinson. No one knew who Robinson was. Just like every other store on the strip named Aleng Rosa, Marites Bakery, Tita Lidia’s Panderia. Rosa, Marites, Lidia, Robinson, all could have just been names pulled out of a hat and whoever worked at the establishments didn’t think too much of the history of the store names or who they were. To everyone on the strip, work was work, and a business was a business.
Manong was just Manong. He was an old sinewy man with a lazy eye and white oily hair. Old as he looked he, moved like someone half his age. He would float between the front carinderia and the back kitchen like a silent wraith, often times carrying refills of food trays with ease.
“Brah, so did you hear about Marcia’s aunt. Tita Neng?” Miguel asked as they sat down at their table, positioned across from the television that played local Filipino news.
“Yah, dude, that’s rough,” Anthony replied as he drizzled spicy vinegar over his beef stew.
“Thank god their insured right?”
“Dude what’s wrong with you? That shit was fucked up! In broad daylight too. Like great they can afford the hospital, but she didn’t have to be in that situation you know? It’s not like she got hit by a car or nothing. Dude went savage on her, for no reason!”
“Yah…” Anthony reflected. “That was fucked up.”
“Things are getting bad. I mean used to be hard just getting around at night. Who know’s who you’ll run into. But tang ina man, these fuckers attacking us during the day now. And for what fucking reason?” Miguel began to chomp down on his food a little bit faster now.
“They hated us from before pare. But back then they ignored us. Shit talk here, shit talk there, but that’s all it was, shit talk. They left us alone. We kept to our side of the line. But now they full on hate us! They blaming us for takin jobs, bringing the fucking virus. Dude doesn’t matter if you’re Chinese, Viet, Filipino. We all look the same to them. Fuck this world bro.” Anthony felt himself getting worked up. He realized if he kept going like this, it would be hard for him to sleep later.
He decided to steer the conversation back to Tita Neng and Marcia. No point in getting worked up so late. “So how’s Marcia anyway? She ok?”
“Yah, she’s with Tita Neng. She’ll be there a while till Neng’s out. Probably be a few days to a week, seeing how that asshole got her.”
“Wow, a week, how’d she score a whole week off?”
“I dunno brah, but company told her take as much time as she needed to take care of her aunt. I never asked though if it was paid. Who knows. You know if this shit never made the news, they probably wouldn’t have given any time off at all you know. These fuckers won’t give a damn until all of the sudden there’s a camera on them.”
Anthony choked a little bit. “Fuck that’s true. They only care if people got eyes on them. Imagine, if this news didn’t go public, they probably would’ve wiped their hands and said not their problem.”
Miguel grabbed the vinegar from Anthony’s side of the table and started adding more to his broth. He was getting a little heated up as well but wasn’t sure if it was the topic of conversation or the food giving him a second wind.
“Brah, the pares is good today,” he mumbled.
Anthony nodded in agreement, “mmhmm.”
“There’s a donation going on if you wanna contribute. Again we don’t know if Marcia’s getting time off with pay, but everyone’s just assuming she isn’t. Hard to ask with her being in her state, taking care of Neng at the hospital. So we just gonna collect some stuff, food, cash, you know. Help with the rent and all.”
Anthony nodded as he looked up at the television. It was a repeat news story of Tita Neng’s encounter.
“…Melinda Torres, a 58 year old, Filipino shift worker who was assaulted while walking home in the morning is now recovering at St. Joseph’s hospital. Police have surveilled CCTV footage of the incident Police Investigators have identified the attacker as Anthony King, 42, who is now facing charges of a hate crime on top of assault and battery. Anthony King is still at large and police are urging anyone with information of his whereabouts to contact them or CRIMESTOPPERS…”
“Fucked up,” Miguel says as he turned over to yell at Manong, “be careful when you go out. You never know what these fucks will do these days. They’re just hating on all of us, but what’s worse is they hitting the old ones like you, and Tita Neng over there.”
Manong just stared at the tv, with the same blank look he had every night, and all day for all they knew. He stood there silently, stoically with his one lazy eye unblinking, unphased by either the news report or Miguel’s sudden attempt at conversing with him.
Miguel meanwhile, stared at him for a few seconds, then slowly turned back to his food. Anthony replied, “you’d think he’d be a bit concerned for himself eh. I mean, even though he’s got kababayan (countrymen)all around here, who knows who’s walking down these streets these days.”
“Brah, I don’t think he leaves this place,” Miguel chuckled.
“Yah I guess you’re right.”
“Ingatan mo ang saril nyo”. (watch out for yourelves)The both of them suddenly heard from behind the counter. The both of them turned to look back, but Manong just stood there in the same position as always. Sometimes he was watching TV, sometimes he was just sitting down staring at the wall, and sometimes, he was at the back, disappeared behind the kitchen, doing what the both of them thought people did behind the kitchen. Cook, chop, clean, or maybe in Manong’s case, just a whole lot more staring into nowhere.
“You know, I don’t think I ever heard him talk,” Anthony said.
“Nah, don’t think so brah.”
After a few seconds, he turned back around over to their food and began eating again.
“Yo Ton,” Miguel whispered, “we’ve been coming here for months now, I haven’t seen anyone else work here except old Manong over there.”
“Yah same, I think he run’s this place all on his own”.
“You mean he does the cooking, cleaning, cash, everything? Nah he’s gotta have some help.”
Anthony thought back and tried to recall how the other businesses in the area operated. There were typically two people at least at every store. Even if on a certain hour you’d see one person at cash, or one person at a desk, there would always be another one out back, or out somewhere doing errands. Running a business, no matter how small on the strip was never a solo operation.
It was possible Anthony thought but moving inventory, getting supplies, cleaning the shops, all required some help. And as tight knit as the community was, there was only ever so much favors one could pull from the neighbors before they start declining.
He thought back to when he came to Robinson’s during the day and tried to remember if there was anyone else running the shop or if there was help. Him and Miguel usually just came there after their night shifts, but he recalled swinging by a few days on the weekends on his own when he didn’t feel like cooking, or he felt he needed something quick and cheap to eat. He couldn’t remember at all if old Manong had a helper.
Miguel broke his chain of thought, “You know I heard he was an ex merc from the Marcos era. Body guard or some shit.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Anthony snickered. “You believe all the tsismis huh?”
“Nah man, well, yah sure, tsismis is tsismis, but you know how rumors go? If it’s the same story, it’s gotta be true. And everyone sayin’, Manong over there is an ex merc.
Anthony chuckled as he spooned the last bits of sabaw (sauce)over his rice, “Dude, your logic”
“Yo just look at him. Stiff as a board, always looking silent and deadly. You see the dude ever slouch or anything? My titos and shit were all in the army, and you know, posture, it stays with you.”
“Even an ex soldier can’t do things alone man, specially at his age.”
“Huh what?” Miguel retorted with a puzzled look. “Oh shit yah, ok hear me out. He’s probably like super strong and shit. Ex merc you know, probably seen stuff. Specially back in those days you know. Fucked up shit. Figures why he’d do things on his own. Probably can’t trust no body. Look at that lazy eye of his too. Probably got stabbed or shot. Tang ina’s astig (badass)bro.”
“Dude, you even know what you’re talking about? Like Marcos era? You know how long ago that was? Manong over there’s probably gotta be over a 100 years old to survive the Marcos era.”
“Well”, Miguel shouted, but suddenly remembered where he was and who he was talking about, and where that person was, “Well,” he hushed down “he probably is a 100. Look at him.”
“Migs, I am looking at him, and there’s no way. No way pare. I mean yah, he looks old, but dude moves like he’s 20. He can’t be that old.”
The door of Robinson’s suddenly opened and the two of them stopped their conversation to have a glance. Normally there’s always the quick glance and stare when someone walks through, especially at that time of the night. It would be a mix of curiosity and hopefulness. Curious to see who would be walking in so late at night, and hopeful to see if it was someone they knew so they could start a late night gossip session. But at this particular moment, the stares gave way to a rapid hint of caution which triggered the two of them to immediately look away and back down on their food.
He was a tall, hefty man with big arms, thick thighs, and a big thick belly. He was wide and just plain big. Not the slow and soft kind of big, but the sort of big that can do damage, like a truck or a wild boar. He even grunted a bit as he surveyed the restaurant, eyes meandering Robinson’s with a cynical gaze.
“I thought I smelled something off,” the stranger snorted as he slowly walked, more like staggered, to the counter of Robinson’s. It wasn’t the drunk or high kind of staggering but more so of a bravado step with an air of arrogance behind the walk leaving behind a strange cloud of hate.
“Wha d’you gotta eat in this kinda place pops? I smell fish heads, you fryin’ fish back there?”
Anthony and Miguel gave each other a cautionary glance. They both knew Manong never served seafood, and they both knew what the stranger meant when he referred to the smell of fish heads.
Manong glanced at the customer, with his usual look; unchanging, stoic, emotionless. He took both of his hands and fanned them outward towards the counter of food laid out: the beef stew, fried noodles, and beef steaks.
“God damn old man. Food inspector come by and check your place out yet? What is this shit? You leave this out in the open like this? Probably not even warm?”
He stared at Manong as he mouthed the word warm, and while doing so he took his index finger and dipped it into the pan of beef stew, stirred it around for
1…2…3… seconds, lifted it off and stuck his finger in his mouth.
“It’s warm I’ll give you that much, but it’s fuckin disgusting. What the hell is this pig slop” He spat out onto the floor. Manong just continued to stare.
Miguel turned around when he heard the stranger spit on the floor. Something started to boil up inside of him. Anthony sensed this and grabbed him by the forearm, “psst, huy, relax lang pare”
Miguel turned slowly back to his place, torn and feeling helpless. He knew the stranger with the arrogant walk was up to no good. Miguel just kept getting flashbacks in his head about the news report and his conversations with Marcia about Tita Neng in the hospital. What panicked him most among all the ideas and scenarios running through his head was, this was not Anthony King, the suspect that had attacked Tita Neng in the streets. This was someone else completely. The feeling of being trapped and helpless choked him.
In a hushed tone, as if he could read his thoughts, Anthony whispered, “I know brah, but let’s wait. Relax lang. Maybe he’ll leave. Maybe he’s just all talk. Relax, chill”
The stranger sensed movement behind him, looked back with a smirk, then turned his gaze back at Manong. With the same finger that he just licked the stew from, he went and poked at the fried noodles, and began to stir just like he did with the beef stew.
Anthony was still holding on to Miguel’s forearm and as he watched the stranger stir at the noodles, his grip got harder, and sweat started to pour down his forehead.
“Y’all come here, serve this shit,” the stranger talked as he continued to stir the noodles with his finger. “And don’t even have the decency to greet your customers. Where’s the service old man?” His finger pushed deeper into the pan of fried noodles, submerging his knuckles, his palms, then his whole fist.
“You just gonna stare at me old guy? Or you gonna serve me? Or do I gotta serve myself?”
Manong broke his stare, calmly turned around, and grabbed a plate from the back counter, hardly un-phased by the stranger’s words and actions. He turned back around with the plate, grabbed a serving spoon and began to spoon the plate with fried noodles.
The stranger laughed, the arrogance and the cloud of hate that trailed behind began to rise, and fill the room with it’s invisible aura. He looked left, right, looked back at Miguel and Anthony sitting at the table. At this point Miguel had turned around to watch the stranger again so the two of them were now transfixed at the scene.
The stranger smile turned sharply into a grimace. He spun back to face Manong, lifted his hand out of the plate of noodles, and flicked them at Manong’s face. “FUCK. You can’t get the hint can you? I don’t know how you got into this country. But you know what old man?”
The stranger turns around to face Anthony and Miguel, “And this goes for you two pricks as well”
The stranger turns back to face Manong, “stop serving this slop and go back to your fucking country, you mother, fuckin…”.
And with that last word the stranger grabbed hold of another fist full of noodles and smeared them over Manong’s face. 1 second…. 2 second… 3 seconds… 4… seconds… he continued to smear. He pulled back his hand, turned around gave a grim smile to Anthony and Miguel, who were now standing up. Faces full of shock, anger, fear, desperation, anxiety, sadness, a mixture of emotions that kept them frozen in place. Fight or flight, both actions were being cancelled out with too many thoughts, too many countering emotions, too many what if scenarios floating in their heads.
The stranger glared at Anthony and Miguel, “This is what we do to your kind. You’re not welcome here no more,”
The stranger turns around and begins to punch Manong in the face with the same noodle smeared hands.
That was all Miguel could handle. Anthony stood there still in shock, but Miguel rushed over to the stranger and tried to wrestle his punching arm back to stop the barrage of fists landing on Manong’s face.
“Get the fuck off him you prick. Why you gotta go and hit an old man for you fucking piece of shit!”
The stranger had size over Miguel, though Miguel was able to hold back his punches, his other arm was free and strong enough to elbow Miguel hard in the ribs which made Miguel immediately let go.
“You all are everywhere, like god damn roaches”, he spat at Miguel.
Miguel furious took a deep breath and launched himself at the stranger. With no real experience in fighting, all he could do was grab hold of the stranger with a bear hug to the waist, which was unfortunate for Miguel as with the stranger’s reach, he was able to pummel him with both arms. Elbows to the back. Punches to the ribs.
Miguel held on tighter, frustrated, in pain, tears rolling down his face while the stranger continued his barrage of elbows, punches, and insults. Anthony stood frozen mouth gaped, shock and fear rooting him in place.
“You fucking pieces of shit, take every god damn street and store in our country, take every fuckin’ business, and all you do is ruin things for everyone.” The stranger continued to beat down, Miguel’s strength fading, his grip on the stranger loosening as he took multiple punches to the ribs and back.
“You come here with your shit food, your shit way of life, ruining MY country. First you bring drugs, then you bring the fucking virus, then you take all our fuckin money living off our welfare system. I should call immigration on the lot of you. You got papers boy?”
Miguel dropped to his knees. Hurt both physically from barrage of punches and elbows and hurt emotionally from the insults and the slurs that were flung with every hit.
“If you won’t go back to where you came from, I’ll kick you out myself” the stranger smiled. Be balled his hand into one giant fist and raised it high over his head, while his other hand grabbed hold of Miguel’s hair, holding him steady for the final blow.
Both Miguel and Anthony saw the fist raised. They both knew what was coming, but neither could stop it. Miguel was too weak from the beating and Anthony was still too frozen with fear to move. They both thought of Tita Neng in the hospital. Miguel was next. He’ll be in the hospital at St. Josephs with her, that is if he survives the final blow.
At this point, Miguel began to experience what most would describe as the slow motion of the last moments of life. Or at least what he thought would be his last moments. They were filled with dread and fear. He could feel the hatred pouring out of the stranger. How could anyone have so much anger and hatred towards anybody?
The aura of hate filled the room and engulfed him entirely. He felt as if his entire being was becoming smothered and about to be wiped out. He could feel all that hateful energy wrap him like a thick heavy net and the anger collecting into a single point in the stranger’s fist. All that hate bottled up in one fist would be crashing down on him soon. Miguel passed out from exhaustion. Anthony fainted from shock.
And then a darker energy entered the room. Originally it was just the stranger and his anger filling up the space. But then, something else emerged. It was darker than black. It was primal. It was old. And It, was hungry.
…
Miguel and Anthony woke up both groggy un aware of what was going on. It took a few seconds for them to regain their senses. They both assumed they had blacked out, but how?
They sit back. Miguel’s ribs and body ached. Luckily the stranger had only been hitting him in the back and ribs, and not the face.
Wait a minute he thought. The stranger must have hit him in the head, otherwise why would he have blacked out?
But then it occurred to him that his head wasn’t hurting. He did have a headache, but not from a punch to the head. More of a groggy, hung over feeling headache, the type one gets from sleeping in a strange position and getting a stiff neck.
Anthony opens his eyes, how did I black out he thought? Did the stranger go after me after finishing off Miguel? He felt no pain in his body, nothing hurt but his head, but it was the same groggy stiff necked pain that Miguel was experiencing.
“Bro, what the fuck happend” Miguel asked
“Pare I don’t know, pare. Fuck. My head hurts.”
“All I remember was I thought I was done for. I remember thinking that I was either going to see Tita Neng in the hospital or see my dad up in heaven.”
“Bro, I’m sorry I couldn’t step in, I tried, I mean, I wanted to, fuck I dont know I’m so sorry bro”
“It’s alright pare. Ok lang, we’re both ok, somewhat. I dunno. Dude where are we?”
They both looked around. There were green tiled walls with posters of San Miguel Beer, one wall with corner to corner mirror to make the place look bigger, foldable picnic tables draped with thick clear plastic, a TV playing local community news, this time playing the morning weather and traffic report. Hazy sunlight was shining through the tinted glass windows of the front of the restaurant. They were at Robinson’s.
Manong was in front of the kitchen counter with a mop and bucket cleaning the floor. His face, blank, stoic, emotionless. He swished the mop with strong, wide strokes, and when he rung the mop into the bucket, his sinewy arms tightened into coils of hard leather. For an old man, he moved like a teenager, albeit slow and methodical.
“Manong,” Miguel asked
“Ok lang kayo? Anong nangyari ka gabe? Where did that asshole go”
Silence.
Manong did one last swish of the mop into the bucket and wheeled them both back behind the counter and into the kitchen. Miguel and Anthony just looked at each other, confused, baffled, and stiff.
“Dude” Anthony grimaced “Like what the hell happened last night?”
“I don’t know, but I feel like shit right now. Do you think we should go to the police?”
Anthony sat in silence not knowing what to say or do. As he became more and more awake, the memories of the night before became more and more clear, but the gap between now and the moment the stranger was about to hit Miguel in the face was a huge black hole.
“Dude, what time is it?” Miguel asked.
Anthony looked at his phone, “6am”
“Alright, ok so we got 6 hours before clocking in to figure out what we’re going to do”
“Or figure out what happened last night bro”
The kitchen door swung open and Manong walked out with a big tray of food for the carinderia counter. Face emotionless as ever, not even showing signs of strain as he lifted the tray into the heating spot of the counter. After placing the tray in it’s slot, he turned around to the white board menu above the kitchen counter and began wiping the old menu out and replacing it with the days and evenings options.
Meal A
Bisteak and rice + 1 lumpia
Meal B
Pansit canton with beef slices
Meal C
Pork adobo and rice
Special
Lechon Kawali
Glossary of terms:
‘tang ina: short for putang ina. Mother Fucker.
‘pre: short for Pare. Colloquial term for Bro.
Brah: another term for Bro. Evolved from the word Brad.(Br-AH-d) or Brother.
Manong: A term reserved for an older male person. Typically males, family or strangers would be referred to as uncle or Tito. Manong is an older Tito.

I’m burnt out on all the same meals. Fiance and I don’t eat fish. These are our typical meals:
With chicken: stirfry, butter chicken, chicken fried rice& chicken Alfredo are the usual. With beef: burgers, spaghetti, tacos/crunchwraps or hamburger helper And we make a really good baked Mac and cheese but that’s what we typically eat and I’m so tired of them
Edit: yes we do eat vegetables I just included the main course not the side of vegetables.
Ground beef is the only red meat I eat We do not eat fish or seafood.

A Guide to Eating During Finals

Procrastination for finals, so I decided to throw down a food guide that I came up with during break after my first set of finals in law school.
This might be helpful for you if you feel bad eating (financially or physically) during finals, and you want that to change. Graduating 3Ls, take note for bar-prep.
Mandatory disclaimer: not a dietitian, nutritional expert, etc.

Rules

My meals during finals have to comply with three rules: 1) whole, 2) fast, and 3) cheap. Here's why.
Rule 1: Whole (Foods)
You don't want your gut to be a distraction while you're studying, so avoid stuff that your stomach doesn't agree with. Whole foods will typically be high in all of that nutritional stuff, which might help you feel better.
Insert scientific mumbo-jumbo about brain food, etc. (your healthy friend would know)
Placebo: If you think you're eating healthy, you might be able trick your body/mind into thinking you can study better.
Rule 2: Fast
Food may feel like a distraction during finals, so pick stuff you'll enjoy eating and can make fast.
This does NOT mean that you should eat fast. Take the time that you're eating to watch an episode of Better Call Saul or the Office or whatever and enjoy the break. I am partial to stand-up. Laugh a little.
Rule 3: Cheap
This doesn't have to apply to you, but it does to me. Some things below are more expensive than others, but they're not more expensive than eating garbage, feeling like garbage, and then struggling to get your work done.

My Eating Plan

Goal here is to handle your dietary needs without feeling like hot garbage while you wade through Major Questions Doctrine or secured transactions or [choose-your-own-hell]. YMMV, but here's what I do.
Four categories of meals planned before the week starts: 1) Protein-Carb, 2) Carb-Protein, 3) healthy snacks, 4) comfort snacks.
Some say three meals (B/L/D) are enough. I disagree; during finals, you're typically exerting yourself a lot harder than your body and brain are used to, and your meals should accommodate that. [For my gymrats, you're in the same boat. Adjust those macros accordingly. Ppl don't usually try to study 12 hours a day throughout the semester.]
My approach: two light meals and two big meals everyday, plus unlimited healthy snacks, and limited unhealthy snacks. Plan your light meals and big meals according to your dietary needs and other plans (like working out, studying away from home, etc.). I study at home, and this is what I do:

• Breakfast - 8am-ish: Protein-Carb
• Early lunch - 11am: Carb-Protein
• Grandma dinner - 4pm: Carb-Protein
• Night light - 9pm: Protein-Carb

Eat BEFORE you get hungry.
Here's what I mean by all that.
For protein-carb meals, my goal is to get more protein than I'm used to. Helps me focus better while studying, and it's lighter on the stomach (at least for me). Lighter on the carbs a bit for the same reason. These meals feel smaller than what I'm used to, but they get me what I need to start the day or sleep well throughout the night.
For carb-protein meals, my goal is to make sure I'm getting enough calories for the day. By this point (lunch or grandma-hour dinner), my focus is starting to fade and my body needs fuel. Focus on the carbs and try to get at least the amount of protein you're used to. This helps me close out the final stretches in the day, and is also good if I want to hit the gym or get some exercise in the evening.
Finally, let's talk about snacks. I allow myself limited unhealthy snacks and unlimited healthy snacks. I'll eat as much fruit (grapes, apples, berries sometimes, and cucumbers are my go-to) and as many energy bars as I want during the day; easy to do while studying and don't come with a crash. For limited healthy snacks, I pick a time of the day (usually closer to the evening) when I will have one unhealthy snack of moderate portion size (some candy, ice cream, etc.) to reward a good day's work.

The Foods

Below, I list the carbs, proteins, snacks that have worked well for me and mostly satisfy the rules. Not really an exhaustive list, but hopefully it sparks some ideas.

Carbs	Protein	Snacks
Pita bread/chips	Quinoa, Chia	Fruits/berries
Sourdough, baguettes, Italian bread, etc.	Chickpeas	Peanut butter
Bagels	Beans of all kinds	Energy bars
Oats	Eggs	Granola
Pasta	Chicken (rotisserie!)	Seaweed
Rice (pilaf)	Ground turkey/beef	Dates
Potatoes (golden)	Cottage cheese	Ritz and other crackers
Sweet potatoes	Greek yogurt	Frozen hashbrowns
Yams	Lentils	Nuts like almonds/walnuts
Rice cakes	Tofu, tempeh	Jerky
Tortillas	Canned tuna	Dark chocolate
	Frozen fish/shrimp	Greek yogurt

Protein-Carb Meals

• See "Rotisserie Chicken" below
• Overnight oats: oats + milk + yogurt + toppings (unlimited combos, high protein, easy to eat)
• Chia: chia + milk in the fridge overnight, then throw on toppings in the morning
• Eggs your way: hardboiled will get you through a few more days than usual
• Crispy tofu: air fry, toss in sauce, over a little rice or pasta
• Ground meat on anything, but probably in tortillas or on pasta

Carb-Protein Meals

• Bagels: usual cream cheese, etc. or throw a little salmon/turkey action
• Pasta: of any kind- pick a sauce, pick a protein that goes with it (or put the protein on the side)
• Quesadilla/tacos: can of refried beans microwaved + tortillas + cheese
• Rice pilaf: top with a little chicken or protein of your choose
• Lentil rice: easy if you have a rice cooker but doable otherwise
• Baked potatoes: cheese, sour cream, chicken, etc.
• Sandwiches: use that sourdough or bread-of-choice, load up
• Rice cakes are OP. Discover them

Rotisserie Chicken
This is a cracked food for finals, and in general. You can do so much with it:

• buffalo chicken wrap: tortilla + lettuce + buffalo + ranch
• chicken and rice: and a little dab of greek yogurt for fun
• shawarma: hummus, pickles
• salad: usual greens and your go-to dressing
• pasta: toss with a little alfredo sauce
• sandwich: cheese, greens, sauce, etc.

Snacks

• Pita chips and hummus (if you can get pita bread, make these in your airfryer for way cheaper)
• Tortilla chips + guac + salsa
• Yogurt + berries
• Smoothies
• Oats/Chia with toppings
• Dates or nuts, straight up
• Toast with nutella, peanut butter, etc.

Last thing: FIND A PROTEIN BLEND YOU LIKE! This doesn't conform strictly to the rules for a few reasons, but it's great if you can get it. I'm not vegan, but I have tried a few plant-based protein powders that work wonders. If you're sensitive to dairy (like me), you can get protein isolate. Put it in smoothies, yogurt, etc. or just chug it with some water. This will help you get the protein you need if you just can't find something to eat.

Parting Thoughts

Nothing in this guide is new. Everything has been said elsewhere. I've sent some version of this to too many law students to think that this won't be helpful to a few of you out there. DM anytime if you need help. Like I said before, not an expert but been around the block on this thing.
Some find it helpful to talk this stuff out with ChatGPT. Honestly, if you're the type to come up with a plan and carry it out, go for it. But you might find it easier to walk into Kroger, Trader Joe's, etc., walk around with a general idea of what you'd want off my list above, and just get what's within your budget. When it's time to eat during the day, look at my list of meals and just make the one that sounds most appealing to you. They key here is not to be paralyzed by choice. Put some shorts on, go to the store. Save your thinking for school.
Don't be afraid to stick to one meal: if you make something and want to eat it day after day, go for it. I've made the same thing for lunch everyday during finals season for the last three semesters. It's now my go-to when I have trials at work, and it will be my go-to during the bar exam.
Make adjustments based on what your week looks like. Your eating plan might be different if you're going to be at work for the first half of the day, or if you're studying at the library instead of at home. Your period might be coming up. You might have guests or an invite for dinner. Be flexible and think ahead.
DRINK COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF WATER THROUGHOUT THE DAY. You know it's good for you, but you here's two more reasons: it will force you to get up periodically and walk around (to pee or refill), and you'll often find yourself less frustrated. When I get stuck on something while I'm studying, I habitually grab my water bottle and take a sip, which literally and figuratively cools my nerves—even forces me to look away for a second. Whatever the reason, find a good one to DRINK LOTS OF WATER.
And with that, go out there and conquer.

Never study hungry.

Have a seat, let ‘em settle in(and) don’t be scared,
If this is just a settlement then settle with thirds,
I sat(Set) up nights(Nice) writing, don’t get the
credit I deserve,
I’m the one sending references,
I’m who edit them words,
I don’t ask to be credited,
I just check for the debit deposit, observe(absurd),
While you sit and observe,
I did service for all them platinum hits in the live
jam,
You know, let there be light(Album) was God’s
Plan,
You’d think I jot with God hands,
I was being a handyman,
Hamburger Helper for the logo,
Jumped in the Meek beef just for the promo,
I guess this how the show go when you show low
respect for those who respect and neglect you,
I was the first Adonis, I made you pop(Dad),
You ain’t tell the world who I was,
Stay quite, chillin, was mad but Held back, ain’t
have the right feeling(Filling)
Just know when they too fake(Toothache) you
right(write) wit’ ‘em,
Don’t ride wit’ ‘em, you tight wit’ 'em,
Stuck in the hype, they just tell you to type,
Don’t get the invite to the mansion party,
I see how the Jew do,
I had the location, got it from NuNu,
You asked me to come and battle at the function,
Don’t fuck with the Sunken Places,
Just a taste, I ain’t fuckin’ wit’ you,"
Oh we got some problems,
Told you I was working with triple X,
Don’t reply to my texts,
Now that he died I regret, not sending a verse
back,
But what’s even worse you know who came and
tried to merk that boy,
Oh I’m talking too much,
Trailing, I’m walkin’ too much,
See the youth died, this shit is sick, they
coughing(coffin) too much,
Trolling so I can take control of the stalkers who
stuck,
Algorithms down in my crowd decision notice all
the trolls got big,
But my shit the lowest,
I’m Superman to these bitches,
To get the attention then I gotta save’em,
That is why I behave dumb,
That is why I became some type of internet clown,
Under the stares(Stairs, Movie) they hate me for clowning
but follow those with colourful hair,
sixty-nine(6ix9ine) ways to block me,
Was they being cocky?
I'm just too sick dog, the rabies done got me,
Scabies is high-key(Hockey), the babies in Watts
see, why see not an option,
Think of YC(Rapper, Sports), Racks On
Racks(Hockey Racks),
keep it a stack at the top they keeping the black-
on-black plot,
Blacks don't rap about black-owned stack
property,
Niggas droppin' albums, makin' cracks on pack
poverty,
What’s sad: the fans think it’s a great song,
But why none of y’all helping out Akon?
Light(Lyt) work for the homeland,
You're probably in your mansion choppin’ lobster,
One trip back to the homeland, Waka Flaka,
Give it all back, chains, cars, all that,
Let a nigga see(Sea) it’s no more slave ships,
We aborigine, history(His story) lies,
The mystery rise,
Mister reading his books, but readin' still is the
trap,
Native tongue hung, English,
Old English, we fiending for tall cans,
Awe man, y'all men evil,
Every nut feel different, God said he made all men
(almond) equal,
Capital STEEZ, Prodigy, Triple X, Left Eye, ODB,
the Anomaly,
Every nigga that spoke up for our people got a
depot,
Home Depot, Mexican,
I’m hoping this work,
I have been too focussed,
I'm ready to die for being outspoken,
I'm conscious but still locing(Crip),
I'm crippled(Crip), still a stand up nigga,
Without the crutches,
No marchin' wit' my hands up,
Tell my people "we better lift the cans up",
To get rid of the cancer,
This the only answer, Iverson(Iversen),
I have been surviving in the slums,
Dodging rivals who love thuggin’,
It’s crazy how the enemies is really my
blood(Gang) cousins(Crip),
My cousins bleed the same,
We thug from kids,
No matter how much you Crippin’,
When you get shot, you need blood to live,
It's vital, Fido dog who stay by the bodies,
Shorty load up the shottie, one shot and we come
up short,
Webster(Emmanuel Lewis) hall, don't expect to
ball in a
circle,
The feelings'll rise, your homies'll hurt you,
See the curfew, you get in your feelings(Space-Filling), niggas'll
curve you,
Show your street side, don't let beef slide,
Slippery cow on the East Side,
It’s crazy how the East Coast love me,
But the East Coasters a slug me,
Killin' thugs in my circle,
Show no pity,
My city go silly(Celie) for color purple,
Get a glimpse,
We cry in the Purple Rain(Reign),
Screamin' that BZ Really the Prince,
Believe me the prints, he left in a BZ lot,
We starvin' for leaders(Liters), left bulimic,
Bulimia, see the kids,
Throw-up signs(Sigh),
We glorify on a grape(Crip) vine,
When my partners move, Chop got the tools,
It's ironic how when our crips die(Dye) we got the
blues,
Well(Whale), Moby Dick started killing, living to get
old,
Give praise to the bricks, it only leave you with
missed goals,
The project: government profit,
I forget Sharif was the prophet,
Boyz n the Hood took Chris ball,
Menace II Society told the people to stop and start
living good,
Y'all watchin' a movie but it was filmed inside my
hood,
I seen Caine,
Ziggy and Durant ran the ally when D’s(Cops)
came,
This ain’t a hood movie,
This was a true story,
A unit with the staircase,
Felt this was a two story,
Kids just building-up anger,
Hang with the niggas who hangout, in the hood,
Fly as a plane hanger,
Say the wrong word, you dead,
Niggas is playing hangman,
Stickin' around the bodies,
Do y'all see the stick in the ground?
They kickin' us down, we wanna kick it,
Clickin' it on our own,
Pick up picket signs when they wrong,
Do we get the signs? This a sinus, you don't smell me,
Thinking musk tang(Mustang), is this how it shall
be(Shelby)?
Is this how Michelle be next to Obama?
My mama next to my father,
Please tell me God:
How could I focus in a broken home?
Only way to get dough is if I broke in
homes(Holmes)
Back to Waka Flaka,
Oh let’s do it, my crew wit’ it, I’m too legit,
Get down, your stomach a big round, a hula clip,
You ballin' but still get chopped thinkin’ I’m new to
(neuter) this,
spades(Spayed) was the card I played,
Gazed at the niggas since pickin' my friends,
I got friends in the Knicks,
I wish we could kick it again,
When is shit finna stop?
The plot is constipation,
The hood all stars, hood constellation,
To finish this all we need is guys who patient,
Let's finish this conversation,
I am waiting for a hundred Grapes,
No more huntin' Grapes,
A hunnit Bounty Hunters, a hundred Grapes,
Nigga remember they hung us,
The real enemy is really amongst us,
We the monsters on lock,
We just need to key-free the youngsters who are
stuck in a box,
We get paired up wit' the energy, we come from
the block,
We should square up with the enemies who stuck
us in Watts,
Cocksuckers rushin' the cops, oh don't cop-out,
Tell 'em Ca ca, tell 'em B-Dog(Be dog),
If we all emerge the hood, then Watts'll evolve,
Big Wayne and Lil one,
Killa Twine and Wolfy, call the real ones,
Our fight ain't with each other, our fight is with all
these pilgrims,
Respect in our hood, we gotta protect it,
Don't neglect the plot, it's negligent,
Higher ups gon' reject the block,
We don't show no respect to the other side,
But yet we respect the cops,
When they kill us we get mad and go kill our
killers,
Deal our dealers' life for the drugs,
Drug us in cells for sellin' drugs on a cell,
Then we celebrate, screaming “free the homie”,
We should go free the homie from enemy lines,
We got many G's with the energy, insidious times,
See we really lying to the higher ups,
Watts tower, the wire stuck,
The higher mention our priors,
Don’t try your luck, don't pry us,
It’s just Richard Pryor, screen(Scream) comedy,
The fable, they label me the anomaly,
'Cause Imma meet(Meat) with all of the niggas the
hood was tryna beef wit',
If I am keepin' it real for Christ, then,
I’m just a black boy with light skin(Lytskin).