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Ocular Omnivore

Photos and other media from thecollegecritics.com, a website providing information, opinions, and perspectives on the world of college food.

The Ganesh Temple Canteen is a basement annex of the temple proper. Visitors enter through a steel door on street level. Next to a security booth, there are neat rows of sandals and sockless shoes, battered and electrical taped empty sockets. Down two flights of stairs, the canteen smells like a fine dusting of curry powder.— Journey to Ganesh Temple

I shot and edited this

parsely:

I interviewed Stann Smith, an underground hip hop artist, about his unusual influences—Miles Davis, Bob Dylan—and the intersection of politics and music. I think there’s a close connection between young musicians and startups.

(Source: parsely)

"I never expected to find Ben & Jerry’s, Cold Stone Creamery, Crumbs Bake Shop, and Starbucks in Hoboken. I think, I think, I think that I expected a cartoonish Italian-American festival. Exploring Hoboken is disorienting because every expectation, even those set in situ, are thwarted." —Journey to Hoboken

http://thecollegecritics.com/2012/07/03/journey-to-hoboken/

(Source: youtube.com)

At Kunjip in K-Town

At Kunjip in K-Town

"Gray and white clouds dwarfed the sand and sucking waves."— Journey to Brighton Beach

"Gray and white clouds dwarfed the sand and sucking waves."— Journey to Brighton Beach

"For journeys to alienating and alienated lands, the traveler must find the focal length of his lens. Examined too closely, the world dissolves into detritus. Everything falls into discombobulation and disconnection. Trash day never quite comes."— Journey to Williamsburg

(Source: thecollegecritics.com)

“We took the khachapuri to the beach.” — Journey to Brighton Beach

We took the khachapuri to the beach.” — Journey to Brighton Beach

“From the train, leaving, I can see pitched roofs against the sea. Already, the air, wheezing through the subway grates, stings my throat. Yet I can live, for a time, on the thought of the sea, a few miles South, waiting in spirit for my future self.”— Journey to Brighton Beach

From the train, leaving, I can see pitched roofs against the sea. Already, the air, wheezing through the subway grates, stings my throat. Yet I can live, for a time, on the thought of the sea, a few miles South, waiting in spirit for my future self.”— Journey to Brighton Beach

“Before Frankie arrived, we visited Georgian Bread and asked for khachapuri: we were hungry and no Frankie to speak of!: but no khachapuri either, a 50 minute wait, the baker told us.” — Journey to Brighton Beach

Before Frankie arrived, we visited Georgian Bread and asked for khachapuri: we were hungry and no Frankie to speak of!: but no khachapuri either, a 50 minute wait, the baker told us.” — Journey to Brighton Beach

“At Varenichnaya, my brother, Frankie, and I ate Ukrainian borscht, plumped with chicken and cabbage, and buttered Siberian pelmeni (porcelain thin skins stuffed with meat) and vareniki filled with mushrooms and potatoes.”— Journey to Brighton Beach

At Varenichnaya, my brother, Frankie, and I ate Ukrainian borscht, plumped with chicken and cabbage, and buttered Siberian pelmeni (porcelain thin skins stuffed with meat) and vareniki filled with mushrooms and potatoes.”— Journey to Brighton Beach

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