Crock, Kraft & White Bread

Starting a grilled cheese shop in your dorm room is not really that expensive.  The school took care of the power & water bill & our folks paid the rent (or tuition), so all we had left to buy was our grocery supplies (bread, butter & cheese) & an electric griddle to cook the sandwiches on.  So, being the frugal college students we were, we hopped in Yuri's SUV & went to Walmart.  

Presto makes a nice non-stick, Teflon-finished griddle with a temperature adjusting dial that any idiot can figure out.  You plug it in, turn it up to 350 & wait for the red light to turn off.  That's when it's primed for takeoff.  For around $25, all you need is a plastic spatula to cook an entire breakfast for your whole family.  

Now, whipping up a delicious grilled cheese is a lot easier than flipping pancakes, cooking sausage patties, or frying up eggs & hash browns on a 24-inch griddle.  But, making the perfect one took some time figure out.  

What kind of butter should you use?  How many slices of cheese do you put on there?  What bread helps to deliver that perfect crunch?  These were all things to consider, but in our 19-year old wisdom we based our decision on the most important factor: cost.

Country Crock (the "butter" that I grew up with), knock-off Kraft Singles & Walmart Brand White Bread was what we landed on.  Since the bread was small, we found out that one & a half slices of American Cheese was just right.

By the time we nailed down our initial supply list, school was going on break for the holidays.  I vaguely remember each of us vowing to "collect" as much supplies as we could from home to help us launch when we returned in 2003.               

Everybody Loves A Grilled Cheese

Little did we know, we were on the verge of solving a problem that had been plaguing the campus of Lincoln College for many semesters.  I'd like to think that some of the best ideas come from a few friends sitting around drinking brews & complaining about something.  That's how I remember it coming about in my dorm in late 2002.  The conversation went something like this: 

"We need the Munchie Man," DP declared.  

Yuri & I just laughed.  We weren't sure who or what that was.  

"In Carbondale they had this guy outside the towers late night with a cart selling munchies...you know, nachos, hot dogs, Cheetos- all kinds of stuff.  The Munchie Man.  Everyone knew about it.  I think he even sold cigarettes."

"That would be awesome," Yuri said.  "I'd love some nachos right now.  And, I could use another pack of smokes!"  He tapped his pack of Camel Turkish Golds.

"Yeah, couldn't we just make nachos or hot dogs up here in my room?"  I wondered.  "I got the microwave (which I was supposed to have in my room) & I could grab our [my parent's] Crock Pot from home.  We could buy some chips & heat up cheese to pour on top.  Or even chili & make chili dogs!"

"Haha, that sounds pretty good, but nachos are messy," Yuri admitted.  "You don't want people eating that sh#t in here."

"No, you're right," I said & thought it over.  "Well what if I took it downstairs & met them outside," I said.  "Or better yet- deliver it to their room!"

"Yes!!" DP shouted & stood up.  "But, no- instead lets make grilled cheese!  Everybody likes grilled cheese."

Opportunity to Capitalize

The three of us were sitting around in my dorm room one night, cold Natty Lights in hand, looking for somewhere that delivered.  Too late for local or even chain pizza after midnight.  During the week, in winter of 2002, the small town of Lincoln, Illinois was a ghost town for food establishments.  The only game in town was Hardee's, who never closed, but there was no way any one of us could make that ten minute drive.  Not with that mountain of empties in the wastebasket.

"This town is lame.  It's completely dead after nine o'clock.  Hell, there's more action in the dorms than anywhere out there," DP said.

"Yeah, what are we supposed to do?" Yuri said with a look of disgust, "I can't keep eating top ramen & reheating chicken sandwiches on the Foreman."

"I only go to lunch to jack those chicken patties," I said.  "There's so much food down there at dinner, why don't they save some of it & open up late night?  People would go."

We sat there & let the music from my roommate's computer fill the silence.  There had to be a better way.  Our parents had spent a lot of dough for us to be there.  Where there's a problem, there's a solution & there lies an opportunity to capitalize.             

Mad Munch's San Diego Revival

It all started with an idea.  Something that would allow me to keep living here in OB longer, to live on the other side of Sunset Cliffs Blvd., closer to the beach.  

I was working the overnight shift at the Inn at Sunset Cliffs & was trying to become a writer.  It sounded good on paper, seemed like a great way to make a buck & I enjoyed reading everything I could get my hands on after I finished college.  I got into Steinbeck, Palahniuk, Carver, Westlake & Bukowski & figured I'd take a shot at it.  

Working on some stories of my own, I registered at Mesa College & handed out my printed words to classmates who would give me notes.  The feedback was good.  I saw how powerful words could be, but I also knew that I didn't have the scratch or the patience to go "all in."  

After the semester was over, I drifted a bit.  It's real easy to do in a place like OB, especially when you're in your late 20's & still don't have a career under your thumb.  Sure, I'd had stable jobs back East that paid the bills & then some, but it didn't offer the excitement that I truly craved.  I needed that rush, that jolt to get me out of bed in the morning.  

I sang in a rock cover band for a little while, went as far as taking singing lessons in exchange for doing yardwork in Santee.  I even hit a couple of open mics around Point Loma, telling some jokes I wrote.  I didn't exactly bomb, but it just didn't feel right.  So, I continued the overnights, living paycheck to paycheck in a small apartment off West Pt. Loma Blvd. with a Craigslist roommate.  It wasn't ideal, but hey, I was living in San Diego!

But, on OB Street Fair Day, 2011, everything changed.  I spent my last $5 on booze & got hit by a car on my beach cruiser.  Luckily, I was not hurt, but the car drove off & my bike was mangled.  That's when it hit me-  I need to get my sh#t together...& quick.   

              

Follow the story below of Mad Munch: It's long strange trip from the prairies of Illinois to the sunny shores of Ocean Beach, San Diego.