Doh!

Marie Kondo says if you have things that don't bring you pleasure you should get rid of them. And while that might work for old tee shirts, cookware or even your current squeeze, sometimes there's useful life left in that old stuff. For that reason I am loath to just toss items I might have a use for at a later date. Maybe it's an old phone which that I can repurpose as an alarm clock. Or perhaps a used backpack which will keep the miscellaneous stuff in my trunk from rolling around. Go ahead: make fun of the stack of wood remnants that I have in the garage. But when I wanted to convert the firepit into an outdoor coffee table I had the materials at hand. Ask to see it the next time you come over.

The same goes for food. We're not talking leftovers, which are specifically made to be extra. After all, any home cook has learned the value of adding another cup of water to the soup to have another night. Rather, the challenge is what to do with that half-open can or bag that wasn't used in a recipe, and might be reaching its half-life. Sometimes that means googling olives, cheese and artichoke hearts, and just seeing if any of the possibilities are inviting.

Then there's the stuff that's extra by design. Like many, during our enforced lockdown I tried my hand at baking bread. The result was fine, but not stellar. Then we had the good fortune to be invited to a friend's for dinner just as the vaccination dam was breaking. She had also dipped her toe into the boulangerie experience, but had progressed on beyond focaccia to sourdough. Now, THAT was bread! I asked nicely for a lump of the starter to try my hand, which she generously gave me. And off I went.

If you don't know the drill, sourdough is sour because it is basically controlled spoilage. To keep it alive and continually spoiling it has to be carefully fed and watered. Literally. Once a week or so, whether you are using it to bake or not, you have to give it some food and drink and let it grow a bit. If you are baking you take the growing mass and use it in your batter in place of regular yeast to cause your loaf to rise. Get it right, and you'll never buy another loaf from the store again.

However baking bread takes time. And like a dog that has to be walked, whether you bake or not the starter has to be tended to regularly or it will die. Feed it and it grows. But that also means that every week you have more starter than when you began. Even if you only start with a tiny bit, it will double or triple. You learn very quickly that unless you throw out a good bit, you will start to drown in the stuff. 

Which brings us back to hating to throw things away. There are numerous recipes for leftover starter: pancakes, muffins and pretzels. My fav is pizza dough: sourdough pizza has become our new special Friday night treat, and it uses up a good portion of the leftover from that week's feeding. The process checks all the boxes: something good to eat, no waste of food. and an easy to prepare end-of-week meal.

But skip a week and trouble might be brewing. Consider the cautionary report out of New Orleans about a Domino's Pizza restaurant. Seems that in the runup to Hurricane Ida the staff dumped their unused starter/pizza dough in the dumpster out back. All the other organic matter in there plus the heat combined to make that leftover dough one happy camper. The result was a massive blob of dough that bubbled up and out of the dumpster and started to claim the parking lot. 

I'm not saying that my leftover starter will come through the refrigerator door. But now that I have begun down this road, I'm afraid that it's a lifetime commitment to containment. And if not? All I can think of is the scene from "Alien" where the creature bursts from John Hurt's chest. Couldn't happen to my fridge, could it? But I'll bet that's what they said in the Big Easy, too. 

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Marc Wollin of Bedford likes to cook with whatever he has. 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.

Thanks and Well Done

After back-to-back appointments all morning, our schedule had a big hole in it. After catching up on some other projects, there was literally nothing for us to do for the next 3 hours until our last shot of the day.  I let the gang know I would be out for a bit, grabbed my phone and hat, and headed out the door to take a walk.

Being a nice day, I opted to head to the river. As we were at the top edge of midtown on the West Side, in minutes I was in Riverside Park. One of just 10 scenic landmarks in New York City, this green space stretches about 100 blocks from 59th Street north, and encompasses playgrounds and walkways, cafes and piers, ball fields and sculptures. Tucked between the Westside Highway and the water, it is perhaps the most uncrowded of the major green spaces in New York City.

As I walked along I noted that the flowers were in bloom and the trees all trimmed. Having never really visited the space, I was duly impressed with the thoughtfully designed landscaping, and the obvious care are that had been taken to keep it up. I passed 3 gardeners weeding and watering, and was well past them when I decided to share my delight.

I looped back the half block or so I had traveled and headed to them. Being city workers in official clothing (even if they were just Park Department tee shirts) I'm sure they saw me coming and expected yet another complaint about a broken bench or a request for directions to a bathroom. They looked up and nodded as I approached. "I just wanted to say how great this place looks," I began. "I don't usually walk along here, but had the chance today. And I was just saying to myself what a pleasure it is." They stopped what they were doing and started to smile. I continued: "I have to thank you for all you are doing to make it such a great space for me and anyone else walking along. It really shows. Thanks for your efforts." Then I turned and left.

To say they beamed at me as I walked away was an understatement. 

We are all quick to complain when something goes wrong, and with good reason. If you're going to spend your limited money or time or attention on something you want it to be right. It might be at a restaurant or a concert or at a store. In those circumstances there's an expectation of performance to a certain level, along with a distinct quid pro quo. It's not that you shouldn't thank the person on the opposite side, but everyone understands the transactional nature of the encounter. Merely adequate is table stakes: anything else deserves a comment. And unfortunately we usually only weigh in when it's negative. 

But it shouldn't be like that. Even a little simple acknowledgement goes a long way. No, the guy pumping gas is not performing any exceptional service. But a "please" and "thank you" along with a smile is the least you can do. And just the littlest bit more can make an impression. At a garage where I planned on parking for a few successive days I asked the name of the gentleman who took my car. The next day when I returned and greeted him by name, he broke into a big grin. It was literally nothing, but you would have thought he just got a raise. And when I returned that evening, my car wasn't buried in the back but waiting for me right in front.

I do the same for my preferred coffee cart. Again, usually a nameless interaction, purely a commercial exchange of money for java. But after doing that for several days, I decided to ask the guy's name. He seemed startled that I would care, and that on subsequent days I would actually remember and use it. Now as I walk up the street, if he glances out I see him turn this back and get busy. And by the time I get to his window there is a cup waiting for me. 

It's not like I really did anything. And what I did do was exceedingly small. But I did do something. And sometimes that's all it takes to make a difference. 

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Marc Wollin of Bedford needs to engage more. 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.

Thataway

Given a choice, most people will prefer one thing over another. In most cases there's no right or wrong, just different tastes and ways of doing things. Neither selection is inherently better, and depending on circumstance, one might even slide across the divide and go the other way: these are not choices carved in stone. Sparkling water or still. Clean desk or messy. Bookmark or folded page. By and large, the choice you make conveys no baggage, and is merely taken as a minor idiosyncratic tic that neither adds nor detracts from the overall impression you convey to the world.

That said, it is also true that certain binary choices elicit more passion than others. We're not talking the obvious ones, such as Conservative vs Liberal. Still, proponents of positions in these other areas can be far less flexible. They are less forgiving of opposing viewpoints, strident in their preaching of the correctness of their choice, and highly unlikely to venture across the bright red line demarking the middle. Toilet paper hung over or under. Hotdogs with ketchup or mustard. Apple vs. Android. Surveys have borne this out: 93% of people surveyed say they could never be happy with someone who has pineapple on their pizza.

In a nutshell, that is the root of many of the ills we have today: our unwillingness to see another point of view. And so at the urging of my wife's cousin, I have been tried to at least peer across a similar divide, and see how those people think. Linda had no dog in the fight, as her company makes the products on both sides of the split. She merely nodded as I pontificated, smiled lightly as I demeaned the other side, then calmly explained the differences to encourage me to keep an open mind, which, truth be told, was already made up. Still, I was willing to at least make an effort to not be so ideological rigid when it comes down to Google Maps vs Waze.

If you don't drive, then stop now, and go get something from the fridge. But if you do, chances are you have become an aficionado of one of these two. Even if you are simply driving home from the city, a route you've taken a thousand times, there's a reasonable chance you engage your fav to pinpoint where the backups exist, where the speed traps are waiting, and to give you a guesstimate as to when you'll finally get home for dinner.

If you're a Maps person, you're a Dragnet driver: just the facts, ma'am. Maps is the Michelin Guide as an electronic road map. It's all detail and no personality, showing you the unadorned way to get from point A to point B. For example, to go from New York to Washington DC it plots a drive down Route 95 as a straight line, and offers an option to swing out to Gettysburg and loop in via Frederick. It shows that route as a little longer, but makes no judgement as to why you should or shouldn't take it. Maps makes use of the travel data coming in from other drivers, so you see where the traffic is and is not. But it only suggests. You decide.

Waze, on the other hand, is the crowd sourced, videogame-inspired, Facebook version of a trip. Your car is a little cartoon, and stuff pops up as you travel, including ads. Waze encourages you to live out loud, reporting what you see and sharing that with other drivers. The more people report in, the more info you get. As you drive, little icons, symbols and sound effects make it feel like you are living inside the machine trying to get to Narnia or the Matrix or wherever. 

Both generally get you where you want to go: it comes down to style more than substance. If you like to post what you had for breakfast, pin your favorite fashions, and carry a Switch in your bag for downtimes, Waze is right up your alley. If you want to know when to turn left and nothing more, then Maps is more your speed. As for me, let me say for years one of my proudest possessions was my box of service station road maps. Can you guess on which side of the divide I come down?

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Marc Wollin of Bedford uses his GPS on almost every drive over 20 miles. 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.

Big and Little

If ever there was an industry that has been turned inside out, it is retail. For years it was strictly a mom and pop business, whether it was the corner grocery or a dress shop or a hardware store. Then in the 1800's, as urban environments started to grow and the population grew more sophisticated and discerning, department stores made an appearance. Macy's (1858), Bloomingdales (1861) and Sears (1886) became fixtures, showcasing the latest innovations in clothing, home furnishings and luxury items people didn't even know they needed.

As the suburbs exploded malls made their appearance. Usually anchored by one or more major department stores, they also provided space for specialty retailers. These shops essentially deconstructed those department stores back into individual establishments catering to particular areas and specific tastes. While the social aspects of malls were appealing, they were hardly efficient for shopping for necessities. That led to the growth of the Big Box Stores like Walmart, Target and K Mart, offering one stop shopping for everything from underwear to bicycles to floor lamps.

And then came the internet.

Buying online meant pants you couldn't try on, appliances you couldn't test and tennis racquets you couldn't swing. And what's worse, you couldn't take any of that stuff home with you, you had to wait for them to be delivered. No way that will work, right? Well, way. After some initial hesitation and some tweaking of the business models, we went into ecommerce in a big way. How big? Founded in 1994 as a book seller, Amazon had total revenue the following year that was just $511,000. It has grown steadily, pivoting from just books to handle practically every item under the sun. But especially driven by the pandemic, its growth has gone from merely eyepopping to positively nuclear: for the 12 months ending in June it sold more than $610 billion worth of goods, topping every other retailer physical or online outside of China.

But a closer examination of the number reveals a subtle distinction. Whereas Walmart is a single store, with all its sales going towards its bottom line, Amazon has become a collection of stores under one roof. Almost 2 million independent sellers have storefronts there, and they account for 56% of the items sold. And a large number of those sellers are not large operations, but very narrow specialty retailers. One sells phone accessories, another lawn furniture, another sweatshirts. There's the KRATAC store for archery supplies, the SparkPod store for shower heads and the Joytale Store for dog collars. 

So it seems we do want singular specialty retailers, as long as they all occupy the same space on our couch. We're loath to get up and go anywhere when we can click and have it in our hands within the week, sooner if we are Prime members. Unless, of course, it is something so singular, so brand specific, then we might make the trip to the city or the mall. That accounts for the Apple store and the M&M store and the Coca-Cola store. Icons each, the flagship product of their segment. 

Which leads us to the Oreo Cafe.

The 3500 square foot emporium devoted to all things round and chocolate with vanilla in the middle just opened in the American Dream Mall in Rutherford NJ. Yes, you can buy various versions of the classic cookie. But the real action is in the custom made dishes featuring Oreos, like a waffle sundae with Oreo chunks in the waffle. Or a cheesecake layered with Oreo cookie mousse and chocolate roses. For true believers, and not posted on the in-store menu, is one only available if you know about it from Instagram, the Oreo Donut S'Morewich. Since I haven't been sworn to secrecy, I will let slip that it's scoops of Oreo ice cream, chocolate waffle cone pieces, a marshmallow-glazed donut, fudge, sprinkles and Oreo cookies. You can also order with a side of insulin

Whether the Oreo Cafe will be as successful as the HBTower Store remains to be seen. After all, on Amazon you can order a stepstool from HB, have it at your house within days, and even return it if it's not high enough. Can't do any of that with an Oreo Strawberry Smoothie. On the other hand, one is a ladder, the other is an Oreo Strawberry Smoothie. My money is on the drink.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford buys online because it's easier. 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.