OVERSEAS BREIFING

Author: JACOB RISINGER

OXFORD - Oxford is known across the world as being a relatively decent place to get an education. What is recognized less often is Oxford's equally impressive - if a bit complex - network of late-night, inebriated snacking facilities. Every night, as the sun slips behind the grey gothic buildings that stand at the heart of this university town, a disparate fleet of "kebab vans" invades the streets like a horde of Mongol raiders ready for the kill. They are typically white and often grease-stained, questionably hygienic and laced with a high-calorie, fast food smell that sticks to your clothes for weeks. In other words: kebab vans are sort of like the evil step-sister of quaint New England ice cream trucks.

Lest all of this sound too daunting, it must be acknowledged that kebab vans are a consistently-beloved fixture of Oxford nightlife - along with cheap wine, cheesy music and bad dancing. Even the ultra-scholarly Oxford English Dictionary acknowledges kebab vans, defining them as vans "with a small cooking area and service hatch that sells kebabs and other takeaway food." Most Oxford students, however, equate kebab vans with a sobering midnight snack. Pouring out of clubs that bellow Elton John's greatest hits and swinging around light posts, Brits crowd around the "service hatches" of these roving snack shacks, anxious for fulfilment.

I have never had a kebab - I don't eat cubed meat, especially when it's smeared in mayonnaise. When I first arrived in England, however, I invested a small fortune in "chips and cheese." This, my friends, is a four-star savoury delight. Big fat French fries (i.e. chips) are coated in shredded cheddar cheese, topped with ketchup and boxed in a little styrofoam crate for the long walk home. Most kebab vans, though, are strong supporters of creativity and the arts. Chips can be dressed in myriad ways to suit your fancy: buried in baked beans, sprinkled with lettuce, dashed with salt, or garnished with low-grade chicken and sausage. Health-conscious Brits can even select to have their chips with a side of hummus.

After enjoying several rounds of chips and cheese - as well as the faint trace of heartburn that so often follows in their wake - I decided to restrict myself to stopping at kebab vans for special occasions only. I ordered a chips and cheese to cheer myself up after George W. Bush's inauguration, and had another last week to congratulate Prince Charles and Camilla on their upcoming wedding.

Yet even when I'm chipless, kebab vans haunt my more constructive thoughts. What if we had a kebab van at Middlebury? What if you could stop for a snack halfway between Coffrin and Fletcher, or enjoy a hot burger on the coldest night of J-Term? I see potential for a multi-million dollar industry in the making. Although I'm sure Middlebury's ES majors would have to do something about those cantankerous Styrofoam crates...