I can still recall the specific, grounding scent of a crisp Michigan morning in autumn, where the air seems to hold a bit more weight as you approach the brick facade of the Kellogg Center.
There is a primal sense of discovery in finding that the best breakfast isn’t served in a frantic, grease-slicked diner, but in a place that feels like a refined sanctuary tucked away from the university’s academic hum.
Growing up near the capitol, you learn that the most authentic comfort food often comes with a sense of quiet ceremony, and the State Room has been providing exactly that for decades through its polished service and sprawling buffet tables. I remember the first time I heard the rhythmic, muffled clinking of silver against china in that dining room, realizing that some meals are designed to be an event rather than just fuel for the day ahead…