You Are Here

For years one of my proudest possessions was kept in a small cardboard box on the top shelf of my office. In it were clean, correctly folded, up-to-date gas station maps of our area and surrounding states. As inspirational as the Bible, as pithy as Shakespeare, as revealing as Playboy, they were the key to going and coming on trips for business or pleasure. I was taught to read them by my father, and looked forward to passing on both the documents and skills needed to appreciate them to our boys once they were old enough to get it.

But then GPS happened. And almost overnight anyone, directionally challenged or not, could find his or her way from here to there. No judgement calls of local vs. express, no understanding of cloverleaf interchanges, no parsing of advantages of highways over parkway was needed. All one need do was to enter a destination and follow the step-by-step instructions. And before you could say "toll booth" it told you that you had arrived.

But whether you prefer Google maps or Waze, odds are you have had little use of either the past year. And that's because you haven't gone anywhere. Or more correctly, your world has been so limited and the routes so prescribed that there has been no need of guidance, electronic or otherwise. After all, repetition has meant that you could drive your weekly route to the grocery store blindfolded. And routing around traffic ties ups meant passing a garbage truck.

That doesn't mean you didn't have a world to map. It's just that your destinations were, well, off road. It's kind of like when you look at that big green park on the screen. In a car the only routing is to go all around the edge. But plunge through the middle on foot, and you encounter all means of shortcuts and detours, obstacles and attractions, none of which show up on the plot. 

Your stomping grounds of the last year are much the same. And while the routes might be constrained, there are good ones and bad ones. There are busy thoroughfares to avoid, quiet lanes that are welcome respite, and unplanned detours that bring you past either a welcome distraction or an accident in the making.

To be sure this will vary depending on the size of your space. Live in a one-bedroom apartment, and the options and differentials are small. One side of the couch might be the conference room, the other the break room. The route from the loading dock (the front door) to the supply room (the coat closet) may not have a whole of options. And the webinar control room looks suspiciously like the nap room, hopefully not at the same time.

If you have a home with multiple rooms the options grow. The route from your office (the den) to the mailroom (the table in the foyer) might take you via the school (the family room where your kids are online for class) or through the gym (that would be the dining room where there is a stationary bike in the corner). And just like work, a trip to the bathroom means you might get snagged for an unplanned task, though it's less likely to be a budget review as a request to take out the garbage.

As with any environment, all roads lead to a coffee pot. Unless you live in a mansion, odds are that's also your kitchen, the same place where you and your family prepare and eat most of your meals. That's a plus because when you open the refrigerator or cupboard you don't see a bunch of bags with people's names on them. It's a minus for the same reason, as there is nothing stopping you from grabbing the leftover ziti or piece of cake. And you wonder where that quarantine 15 came from.

It may be a shrunken world, but it's yours. You may not need a screen to plot it, but the routes are there none the less. And you may not need to crowdsource where you'll hit a radar trap, or in this case, a request to fix the toilet, but they're out there, too. It calls to mind comedian Steven's Wright observation: "I have an existential map. It has 'You are here' written all over it."

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Marc Wollin of Bedford likes to know where things are. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

First Time Again

When the call came I was completely unprepared. It's not like I didn't think it would eventually happen. And it's not like I hadn't mentally steeled myself for the change it would make in my world. But all of the planning is just a hypothetical until the phone rings. And there it was: someone was asking me to go on a business trip, the first time in a year.

For sure I was most fortunate in that I was able to turn many projects over the past year from in-person to virtual, a situation that was not possible for all. That meant that since I flew back from Nashville on the morning of March 11, 2020, I have not ventured beyond a 50-mile radius from my home for work. And three quarters or more of that time I probably didn't venture beyond my basement office. By another metric I shifted my sleeping location from being 30% in a hotel to being 100% in my own bed since we started the clock 365 days ago.

But that also meant that when the ask came for me to do a simple trip to Washington, it was like I had never ventured out before. All my travel muscle memory was gone. Where was my suitcase? What's the best way to book a ticket? How much time do I need to get to the airport? Overlaid on that were the twists necessitated by the current abnormal environment. Did I need to quarantine or get tested? What seats were less risky? What did I need to pack more of (like cleaner and masks) or less of (like going-out clothes or gym togs)? And the most basic question of all: considering the current state of play, did I want to do this?

Once I looked at all the factors, and the trip skinnied down to a single day, I decided to say yes. I haltingly remembered how to check in, and updated the credit cards in my Uber account that had expired. Then early last Tuesday morning, not knowing what this brave new world would look like, I awoke and left for the airport plenty early. 

It turned out it was all but empty. Additionally in the interim they had turned the old LaGuardia Airport into the new LaGuardia Airport. The parking was different, the terminal was different, the routes were different. And while extra time was needed just to traverse the new layout, it also gave me a chance to stop and stare. Back in 2014 then Vice President Biden infamously said, "If I took you and blindfolded you and took you to LaGuardia Airport in New York, you'd think, 'I must be in some third-world country.'" No more. The new structure is dazzling, and, to borrow a phrase from another famous traveler, makes you realize you are most definitely not in Kansas anymore.

The plane was also sparkling and empty. There couldn't have been more than 20 of us in the back, so each got their own bunch of rows. There was a jolt of normalcy when we pushed back and sat for 30 minutes due to a paperwork snafu, but we made up the time in the air as there were few planes jockeying for airspace and landing slots. At the other end the DC airport was equally quiet, and cars to the city plentiful and quick. While it has been on the rise, if there is a benefit to the pandemic it is much less traffic.

Once I got over the new abnormal, I began to reap the benefits of being a forced early adopter. Downtown was very empty, so getting from one place to another was quick and unencumbered by tourists. Restaurants offered quick service, and plentiful tables in and out with lots of elbow room. And when I was done, the race to the airport was less a sprint than a stroll as congestion was all but non-existent.

Travel now is but a trickle of what it once was. It will steadily increase, though experts say it will take years to get back to where it was, if it ever does. With new ways of communicating and collaborating, being there in person will be as much a choice as a necessity. But until it all shakes out, this awkward in-between phase seems less a burden, and more road warrior heaven.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford likes to travel. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Expertise of a Sort

I dabble in many things, but can hardly be considered an expert in any. In some areas I might know more than some, like computers or making videos. In others I am enthusiastic in practice while woefully unschooled in the field's formal elements, be it carpentry or plumbing. And in still others I have enough just enough knowledge where the line between useful and dangerous is perilously slim, like the law and fashion. 

That said, a loose interpretation of Malcom Gladwell's maxim that it takes 10,000 hours of intensive practice to achieve mastery of subject puts me squarely in that rarified territory in one very tiny sliver of the world. In this particular case it's not so much "hours" as "pieces," and on that basis I yield to no man. And so with that minor stipulation to the Gladwell Rule, I feel completely qualified to weigh on as an authority on the big news this week. Forget the stimulus bill, forget the Golden Globes, forget Harry and Meghan and Oprah. We're talking about the announcement of Reese's Ultimate Peanut Butter Lovers Cup. 

This is not the first time that Hershey has played around with the iconic candy created by HB Reese in 1928. Many were simple size variations: Miniatures for one-bite consumption, or the Big Cup for sharing. There have been seasonal offshoots as well, such as Peanut Butter Eggs for Easter and Peanut Butter Hearts for Valentine's Day. But these are more changes in form vs. function, taking the iconic chocolate cup with peanut butter filling and changing the container vs. the taste. It is true that the flavor balance gets tweaked a bit to accommodate the alternative structure, as the chocolate to filling ratio changes along the way. But while the mouthfeel might be slightly different, the overall sensory and emotional impact is still the same. (And you wondered about my mastery of the topic and whether I was qualified to have this discussion. Still wonder?)

Along the way there have been numerous one-offs trying to introduce other flavors to the mix. Caramel cups introduced a layer of that filling, while the marshmallow version did the same. Pretzel bits have been included, as have crushed chocolate cookie pieces. Each of those options and others turned out to be a flash-in-the-cup and were discontinued, with only a version with the namesake Reese's Pieces included still widely available. For purists like myself, all were worthy of curiosity but hardly adoration.

While the key to the confection's longevity is that aforementioned balance, the company has tried tilting the scales before. It's 2003 twin offerings of Chocolate Lovers and Peanut Butter Lovers varietals sought to appeal to those further from the center. Both had the essential flavors, but weighted towards their eponymous non de guerres. However, neither survived the cut. Still, perhaps it was inevitable in our hyperpolarized environment that they would eschew the very compromise that is both its core and strength, and seek to cater to one side at the exclusion of the other.

Before I render a judgement, let me say as a disclaimer that I have not tried the new confection. It is due for release in April, and since my status in the field is one of (I think) talented amateur as opposed to professional, the company has not felt it appropriate to include me in the run-up. And so what follows is done at a remove, and final judgement will have to wait for actual experience.

But let me say with some authority as a self-proclaimed aficionado: this will not do. No matter how good the new product might be, its very composition goes against the bedrock design, principle and indeed spirit that old HB set out to achieve. No shame in trying, but if I want a Kiss, I'll have a Kiss. If I want some PB I have a spoon and jar of Skippy. While the new product might be seen as an homage to the original, it is a bridge too far. And so while I will gladly try it, I find it hard to believe that it will survive as more than a footnote.

And with that, my well of specialization is dry. That said, happy to critique your outfit, dissect your career plans or outline my blueprint for world peace. A lack of expertise in those particular areas has never hindered me before, so why stop now?

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Marc Wollin of Bedford considers himself an expert in sweets. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Chef of Today

If there is an upside to the last year it's that I am home more. And that means more nights in my own bed. More time to exercise. More time with family. And more time to read, clean, fix, put away, nap, think, straighten up, mess up, daydream, volunteer and a bunch of other things that fell by the wayside when every day used to mean getting up early, getting out, racing through projects, and then rushing home at the end of the day or week. 

It also means I have more time to cook. I'm hardly a chef, but I do like to play around in the kitchen. It used to be restricted to those days when I wrapped early or the odd weekend. That might mean a birthday cake or a pot of chili, some Sunday morning omelets or using up some too-ripe bananas for bread. And especially when the weather was warm it might mean some chicken or sausage, and that sub-genre of cooking called grilling, which is more about timing than technique.

But as any homemaker will tell you (or you know from personal experience) those one-offs are not the same as doing it every day. As with any activity, be it going for a run or heading to the store or even taking out the garbage, doing it once every now and again can be interesting; doing it every day can be a drag. Still, for me at least, it's a new challenge. And so I gladly offered to take on the day to day assignment of conjuring up dinner for my wife and me.

The good news is that we both are pretty open to eating anything, and have similar tastes. We enjoy bold flavors and different cuisines, generally eat lighter vs. heavier, and shy away from really rich concoctions. She might be a little more vegetable centric, I might like a few more starches, but there are few things either of us make that the other wouldn't eat. That said, the surest way for her to ensure I will take the reins is to say "I have an idea for a tofu scramble."

It's also important to point out I'm a guy. Not trying to stereotype the genders or anything, but while I do like a good salad I'm happy with something greasy, calorie laden and/or loaded with preservatives. I used to get that out of my system when I was on the road. That not being an option for the time being, I reserve those adventures for nights when my wife has an evening meeting that conflicts with dinner time and we decide we're each on our own. She goes for a yogurt, and I go for a hot dog.

When either of us is cooking the rule is chef's choice. While we might ask what the other feels like, the answer is likely to be "food." And so he or she who makes the dinner makes the call. Since we have a pretty well stocked larder that gives me a wide latitude. And on a side note I view it as a challenge to find the oldest things in the pantry and figure out what I can make that will a) use them up, b) make enough for leftovers, and c) be edible. I mean, "best if used by" dates are just a suggestion, correct?

As to recipes, I treat them as a guide for basic steps and ingredients, and go from there. Usually I look at several variations of a dish and then cherry pick the bits I like best. I might swap chicken for pork, add an extra can of tomatoes, larger measures of most spices and flavorings, and always, always more garlic. It might not be classic minestrone or authentic jambalaya, but we always seem to go back for seconds.

So what will it be tonight? As I take our palates around a bastardized version of the world, will it be Indonesian fried rice with chicken and peanut? Maybe a healthier version of shepherd's pie using ground turkey and sweet potatoes? Or a Greek shrimp and feta concoction? Or perhaps I will finally figure out how to use up those 5 jars of hot and sweet mango chutney that have occupied our cabinet since the Obama administration. The first one. Want to come over for dinner?

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Marc Wollin of Bedford has no luck baking bread. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.