There is nothing like a home-cooked meal.

What awaits the summer student as he groggily stifles the alarm and stumbles out of bed? His stomach groans in protest of its fourteen hour fast. Food . . . must get something to eat.

Several minutes later, the student makes his way down the path to Quincy Street. Morning hopefuls are already streaming into the Union. He takes his place in line, amidst the clangor and clash of trays, silverware, and carts being pushed out of the dining room.

8:40 a.m. . . . crowded again! Better remember to get up earlier tomorrow.

The line moves slowly. Gradually he nears the metal cart: tray, spoons, knife, fork . . . anything else? Oh, gray card.

He approaches the cash register. Number 709. What? Yes, this is my first time in for breakfast. What's that? Someone already used that number? That's ridiculous. Check again. See, what did I tell you?

What do we begin with this morning? Ah, eggs. Poached, delicately scrambled, boiled or French toast. Yes, I'll have a hard boiled egg. Are you sure that they're hard?

Toast? Just have to bend over and take some. Ouch! Those prongs are hot!

Hot cereal is next. Are you sure that's oatmeal? Oh, I believe you. No thank you. I'll take Rice Krispies instead. Corn muffin . . . hey, watch it with that butter. You almost hit me. Yes, cocoa, two glasses of orange juice, and melon. What's that? You can't take juice and melon? Oh, I see. "Choice."

Tray in hand, juice glasses balancing precariously, the famished student rushes off to find an empty spot.

After a morning of classes, the student again walks the beaten path, past Wigglesworth, past Lamont (where the industrious smile through the windows), back to the Union!

It looks like a long wait. Time to buy a paper and order some personalized stationery. Remember an extra soupspoon, for dessert.

The student flashes the familiar gray card impatiently, as he passes the cash register. The delicate odors of apple pie a la mode, blended with hamburgers and some unknown form of potato, fuse together . . . . Monday, deep-dish apple-pie; Tuesday, apple-pie squares; Wednesday, apple-pie a la mode; Thursday?

Something new, everyone take note: potato stuffing coupled with hamburger patties. Potato . . . guaranteed to appear throughout the week . . . mashed, fried, Frenched, hashed, boiled, baked, stuffed. Variety is spice.

The next section is for salads. Turn the tray as the lettuce is gently placed beside the potatoes. Harvard is cultivating the bunny-look this summer.

Wait, don't forget dessert! Ice cream soup with apple-pie. Good use for the soup spoon.

There's a change of pace in store for the student on week-ends. His full course meal is an Epicurean delight, and he smiles benignly as he folds his napkin and dutifully carries his dishes into the kitchen.