There is a bizarre kind of conversation, almost like an unconscious thought experiment, that I come across whenever I tell someone that I'm in college. Because "college," in almost everyone's mind, is inextricably connected to one other word: "ramen."

I have never, in my college career, needed to resort to eating ramen. This is due in large part to my school's requirement that students stay on the meal plan while they live on campus, which, though it's overpriced and over-salted, has saved my non-culinary butt from starving on many occasions. But last month, as I finalized plans to live in Portland over the summer, I began to see my future hanging in front of me, the future in which I would be cooking almost exclusively for myself. It included a lot of toast. The next day, at work, I checked the price of the stale, but serviceable, Cup Noodles hanging out by the front counter. (For future reference, it's 75 cents.)

I can cook, technically; my mom has done a really good job of making sure I know what's healthy and (vaguely) how to make it. I just never actually do it.

And then, in my hour of need, I came across this cookbook:

Now, in true college student fashion, I don't actually own a copy, though I'll probably break down and buy one eventually. The reason I haven't yet gotten it, besides lack of funds, is that it doesn't provide you with strict recipes. Instead -- and this is what I think is so cool about it -- it provides you with strategies for doing everything from making sandwiches to cooking stir-fry to soaking beans. It also provides you with handy cross-references, so that if you have leftover potatoes from, say, the potato salad you made last night, you can put them into your leek-and-eggplant pizza.

Also, each recipe comes with a price guide that will tell you how much it costs, per serving and as a whole. (So, that potato-leek pizza might be $4.50 in total, less if you use leftovers, but only 70 cents per serving.) This is because the book is designed primarily as an instruction booklet for those living on the U.S. Food Stamp budget of $4 per day, a pretty meager amount. However, with a full pantry and a willingness to flip back and forth, that $4 maximum is perfectly possible to accomplish.

For those with a little extra cash on hand, Brown offers substitutions that can make the recipes more versatile and appeal to different lifestyle choices and dietary restrictions(vegan, nut-free, etc.). Most of the recipes in the book, however, are already vegetarian, simply because meat can be expensive and time-consuming to cook. However, there's a collection of staple foods like daal, tortillas, and roti that can easily be garnished with meat (or her easy-to-make tzatziki).

Another cool aspect of the cookbook is that, currently, its production is tied to the needs of those it's supposed to serve. What that means is, every time you buy a copy, a second copy is donated to someone currently on food stamps. So if, unlike me, you're feeling the urge to spend, go ahead: you're doing good while you're at it. (It is useful to note, however, that most of these recipes are still available online, so if your budget can't accommodate a book right now, you can still check out some of Brown's ideas.)

As for me, I haven't quite gotten comfortable with the idea of making a pot roast or doing anything that might set my dorm kitchen on fire (so, pretty much anything involving a stove). But I did make some pretty bomb avocado toast, and I spent less than $5 to do it, and they lasted me for a full week of breakfast snacking. Speaking of which, if any friends from California would like to send me some avocados, just because, I will happily accept them.

The moral of this story is certainly not "ramen is bad." It's more of an encouragement to explore what you can do with ramen. Add some shallots and mushrooms? Make a marinara sauce and toss in some broccoli? Wear it like a wig, and eat whatever noodle strands fall onto your face?

The possibilities, like the amount of avocado toast I will be eating from now on, are endless.