St. Remedius Medical College: “The Eats That Sustain Us”

An Ode To The Long-Gone Food Trucks of St. Remedius

(Who was St. Remedius? And why is a medical college named after him?)

Every army marches on its stomach, and no army was more dedicated to this precept than the students, faculty, and administrators of St. Remedius Medical College. Most college towns are known for innumerable fast, cheap, filling, and utterly disgusting regional staples to fill in when the cafeteria is closed on weekends, with positive student memories usually embossed with judicious application of equally cheap pilsner and anonymous hookups in the restroom. St. Remedius standbys, such as Siouzi’s Coffee & Books and the Glass Glyptodont, were perfect sit-down venues for topping up caffeine and protein levels, but what about those who had just enough time to run by, physically grab something, and run back to execute experiments? What about for visitors with very specific dietary requirements, those sick of fast food, or those whose lives weren’t complete without a daily game of culinary Harkun Roulette¹?

Of all the related activities, individuals, and institutions that ceased to exist after the disappearance of St. Remedius, few are more eulogized and mourned than the cavalcade of food trucks that used to camp just outside the school’s main gate. Foods from a million places and a million times, with some stalwarts taking their traditional spots every day and others only appearing as they or their organizations passed through that specific spot of space-time. Some were fronts for espionage, both against St. Remedius and other organizations’ own spies, while others were headquarters for recruiting for post-graduation employment or for organizing unofficial expeditions. Many were started by former students who missed the bustle and the conversations but tired of the endless paperwork and missing fingers of active research. And some showed up solely because they wanted to show off a brand new dish or brand new spice that wouldn’t be appreciated anywhere else. While the adage “you can gain five pounds just by standing downwind and inhaling” was slight hyperbole, the fact is that serious meldcore² musicians still lament that the mix of prep odors, cooking aromas and the occasional puff of recreational and facilitative mood-altering accessories downwind of the weekend food trucks were the absolute best place for practice jams. For everyone else, the DJs from St. Remedius Radio were regular visitors, running everything from The Brief, a commandeered briefcase packed full of 2000-era industrial surveillance tools refitted with wifi, Bluetooth, and etherwave for pickup on any available speaker.

While officially frowned upon, some of these trucks offered entries that straddled the boundaries of food and drugs, particularly with the famous “gas station fugu” that brought out lines that ran around the whole campus. One former Food Science student’s contributions to medicinal cheeses³ featured both in culinary reviews and papers in Nature, and correspondingly provoked similarly long lines from those wanting a proper slice of Whanek, a relative to Gouda that promoted calm sleep when put atop a hamburger or grilled avocado. Some were acquired tastes, as the Primal Ice Cream truck chefs discovered when the “Who Needs Coffee?” chocolate guanara datura ripple allowed some tasters to see time…and allow some of the travelers outside of time to look back.

Unlike other institutions surrounding St. Remedius, the school’s disappearance had no effect on its favorite food trucks other than losing a prime location. Today, most either built up enough of a reputation to justify moving to brick-and-mortar restaurants, as did the Happy Demise when it could no longer keep up with customer demand for stir-fried pika skin, or they relocated to the most obvious place for exotic samplers, Dallas’s Fair Park. Today, not only are the acres of former St. Remedius food trucks happily ensconced on the edge of Fair Park, but it features Fury Road, a two-lane track through for delivery drivers to snag packages, sometimes while slowing down, for those ordering online and for the adventurous to get random packs of dishes from across the continuum. Whether for individuals or for party catering packs, anyone deciding to “Go Random” will have stories to endear and scar them for the rest of their days.

Want to get caught up on the St. Remedius story so far? Check out the main archive. Want more hints as to the history of St. Remedius Medical College? Check out Backstories and Fragments. Want to forget all of that and look at cat pictures from a beast who dreams of his own OnlyFans for his birthday? Check out Mandatory Parker. Questions, concerns, and disgust over generative AI? Check out Contact, Privacy Policy, and AI Policy. And feel free to visit the St. Remedius Medical College Redbubble shop for all of your Mandatory Parker needs.

1. Harkun Roulette, known among that species as guhih, is distinguished from the traditional Russian Roulette by being played with grenades. Humans and human analogues familiar with Harkun cuisine can appreciate the analogy, especially after the bleeding stops. ↩︎
2. Meldcore, a surprisingly popular musical genre in the 2010s, was best described as a fusion of speed metal, ska, throat singing, and kendo. It was best appreciated at music festivals with a preponderance of 1990s whiner rock cover bands “to get the taste out of your mouth.” ↩︎
3. Full credit to Sarah for coining the term “medicinal cheeses,” a deliberate mishearing of her favorite workday stress reliever. ↩︎

food trucks gas station fugu Glass Glyptodont Harkun Siouzi's Coffee & Books St. Remedius