2003 Ivy Awards - Princeton University

By Margaret Sheridan, Senior Editor -- Restaurants & Institutions, 5/15/2003

The Frist Campus Center at Princeton University was long in coming, a gleam in the eyes of college officials for more than 200 years, according to a campus joke. Now three years old, the facility symbolizes the progress that makes this campus a role model for college and school foodservice.

The center is a socialization magnet with lounges and sofas, a multiunit food court, a sunny atrium with seating for 300, big-screen televisions and the convenience of something to eat after the ancient curfew of 7:30 p.m. Such on-campus amenities, once unheard of, are the result of a retail mindset that regards students as customers and encourages chefs’ creativity.

When Stuart Orefice arrived 11 years ago as director of dining services, Princeton ranked at the bottom in a poll of the eight Ivy League schools’ dining services. The transformation he helped forge demonstrated to the school’s 6,500 students that one strong personality can bring change.

Orefice is a man with a mission. On a chilly Monday in February he had to deliver cookies to Jadwin Gym. A black baseball cap with orange P allowed him to blend with the students, but his tailored overcoat made him a moving target. The box of macadamia cookies, still warm, were going to John Thompson III, head basketball coach. “John says these bring good luck,’’ says Orefice, greeting students by name on the stairs. “I can’t ruin our winning streak.’’

Orefice credits a former professor of English and Princeton alum, Robert Hollander, with instigating the campus’ food-service evolution. Now retired, Hollander serves as Princeton’s unofficial dining-services historian and critic. The Dante scholar used to commute regularly to Cornell University in Ithaca, N.Y., to conduct research. Impressed by Cornell’s menus, he raved about the Ivy League rival’s foodservice while scolding his alma mater.

At Princeton, Hollander crusaded for bread with hearty crust, railed against mushy fruit better suited for compotes than munching and cursed leaden omelets made with bland cheese.

As resident master of Butler College (one of five residential colleges at Princeton) in 1991, Hollander rallied residents against frozen turkey legs and cardboard-backed butter pats. He established the first student food advisory committee and soon Butler College had become “the place to eat.” When the position of director of dining services became vacant, Hollander suggested that Orefice, then assistant director at Cornell, be considered.

Orefice’s arrival at Princeton launched an era of culinary change and innovation on campus, with omelets cooked to order, fresh bialys, theme menus and guest-chef dinners as well as retail kiosks and class reunions with cachet. With an annual food budget of $5 million, Orefice and 300 employees today produce 11,000 meals daily. Overall sales, including catering, tally $18 million annually, with retail sales accounting for $4 million and vending $300,000. Since Princeton adopted an $11-per-hour “living wage” last year, attracting full- and part-time employees isn’t difficult, and retention is high.

The 42-year-old Cornell graduate credits Peg Lacey, his mentor at Cornell and its former foodservice director, now retired, with teaching him the importance of monitoring culinary trends and networking within the commercial foodservice industry.

“Treat students as restaurant customers or you’ll fail,’’ Orefice stresses. He has forged industry ties through Princeton’s Visiting Chefs series. Tastings and personal appearances by foodservice trendsetters from metropolitan New York City and as far away as Chicago add excitement and fresh ideas to the Princeton menu. And while the school’s 11 private off-campus dining clubs for upperclassmen continue to operate, an increasing number of students elect to eat on campus.

Orefice’s commitment to pleasing customers is one of the reasons they do. When the women’s crew asked for better options in the boathouse vending machine, he provided oatmeal in a cup, granola bars and even 3-ounce cans of tuna. An awareness program for endangered seafood species got a nod with appropriate menus in dining halls. And student interest in organic foods resulted in a 30% increase in purchases of organic cereals, coffees, juices and vegetables as well as environmentally friendly paper goods.

But campus tradition, too, influences Princeton foodservice. When alumni return for football weekends and class reunions, chefs make creative use of black and orange, the colors of the school’s tiger mascot.

“Around here I think in Halloween colors,’’ laughs John Maas, bake shop manager, pointing to a canister of black and orange sprinkles. Trays of carrot cake and Tiger Torte (alternating layers of devil’s food and yellow cake) are decorated with dark-chocolate fondant for a reception. Executive Chef Robert Harbison exploits golden squash for soup served in black bowls. The black beans used as garnish usually sink but not the orange caviar. Tiger shrimp ravioli, a campus special, comes drizzled with squid ink. Such details make food at Princeton distinctive, Orefice adds.

With the cookie delivery to the basketball coach complete, Orefice heads back to his office in a Victorian house on Alexander Street. Along the way, students wave and exchange hellos. Passing employees get his attention by calling his first name.

“Everyone knows this face,’’ he says. “At Cornell, I faded into the crowds. But on a campus this size, you can’t hide.’’