I went 12 years to Catholic schools and NEVER had access to a cafeteria. One of my great treats was opening up my Soupy Sales lunch box and finding a Deviled Ham sandwich and a twinkie could buy our chocloate milk from a vendor.
My Sainted Mother was from the Maritimes in Canuckistan and forgot what my Grannie, a Utah hill person, taught her, food should taste good. I worked in a heavily Irish part of Boston and the tales of food murder was a good way to past the Night Watch.