Go Deep or Wide?

There is a constant tension in the world between specialization and diversification. On the one hand it's good to focus tightly on one particular thing, and get so good at it that no one else can hold a candle to you. On the other hand, we relish and admire the person or place that has a wide portfolio, that can handle or create multiples of things to a standard that is more than simply passable. We say we want the first, but the convenience of the second makes that an attractive package.

You see this often in the restaurant world. Establishments gain followings and notoriety for their focus on one particular dish or cuisine. It might be their homemade pasta or their Buffalo wings, their fried chicken or their Greek salad, their turkey club or their filet mignon. Word gets out, and they become THE destination for that dish. After all, to be the go-to spot for a burger, spaghetti with meat sauce, or ham and cheese omelet is no small thing. 

But rarely do those places decide to simply rest on their laurels. Seeking to leverage their popularity they branch out and add other options outside their area of expertise. While it would be nice if that new outing was also home run, the hope is that it will be at least a step above adequate, offering variety and perhaps attract its own following. Come for the onion rings, but while you're here give the tuna salad a try.

That's the idea behind Little Blue Menu, a special brand created by fast food restaurant Chik-fil-A. That establishment has grown since its founding in 1967 to become the third largest restaurant chain in the US by systemwide sales, despite having fewer locations than Sonic Drive-In or Papa John's, and while being closed on Sundays. While the average McDonald's generates about $3.7 million annually in sales, the average Chik-fil-A takes in $8.7 million. That's a lot of chicken.

And it is mostly chicken. The chain has built a passionate customer base on that protein, the consumption of which has increased in the US over the last 10 years by about 23%. Sure, their customer service wins rave reviews, and their waffle fries and milkshakes get high marks, but it's all about their signature hand-breaded chicken sandwich. To be sure they've added variations on that, including spicy and nugget versions, even a grilled filet to tap into the healthier eating trend. A sampling of online posts: "It's consistently a good chicken sandwich." "The chicken is AMAZING." "One of the few places where the chicken sandwich isn't a frozen hockey puck." Or perhaps the most pointed: "At the end of the day Chick-fil-A is just a fast food chicken sandwich. However, it's the best fast food chicken sandwich."

That kind of customer response is the stuff that dreams are made of. And so the idea behind Little Blue Menu (so named because in 1946 at The Dwarf Grill, founder Truett Cathy's first establishment, new menu items were printed on a blue menu) is to leverage that enthusiasm and push the envelope. The embodiment of the concept is in the test store opened late last year in College Park MD, as well as a single food truck in Athens GA. One wonders if they chose those locations because they are both college towns where the students can be expected to try almost anything. 

According to their web site, at Little Blue Menu you can get Chik-fil-A favorites along with "whatever we cook up next." At College Park that includes wings, which kinda of makes sense as a line extension and considering their expertise in poultry. But you can also get a burger, somewhat counterintuitive from the chain whose marketing catch phrase is "Eat Mor Chikin." And in March they introduced 6 varieties of pizza. Four are in more traditional flavors (cheese, pepperoni and such) even as there is nothing remotely Italian about the firm's culinary expertise. And for the two that do use chicken as a topping, one adds pickles as a garnish, while the other has buffalo sauce, ranch dressing and lemon-pepper seasoning. 

Speaking as a pizza lover, and without having actually tasted any of them, I am willing to go out on a limb and say that it doesn't make a whole of lot of gastronomic sense. Full disclosure: I am a pie purist, and find Hawaiian pizza a crime against nature. But in this case it's more about pedigree. If I want chicken, maybe I'll come to you. If I want pizza, well, there are many other options from those who know better than to add a kosher dill on top.

The mistake here is in thinking that the ability to go deep also means you can go wide. There is no shame in doing one thing very well; in fact, most can't even claim that accomplishment. So if you can, recognize that fact and lean into it. Or as summed up in "One Trick Pony" by Paul Simon: "He makes it look so easy, it looks so clean, he moves like God's immaculate machine. He's got one trick to last a lifetime, but that's all a pony needs, yeah, that's all he needs."

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford still likes a simple McDonald's cheeseburger. Something about the pickle. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Fraternity of the Dough

There's Brian, who is a director of photography and video engineer. Erin, a producer of corporate meetings and videos. Elliot, a lawyer and tennis player, Sharon, a retired IBM'er and board chair, and Smita, a behavioral psychologist and cooking influencer. While there are various links and threads that connect each of these individuals to some but not to others, that six degrees of separation shrinks to just one over the mutual attraction of all to the dough. And in this case the meaning is literal: not cash, but the sticky, yeasty stuff that turns into bread.

You can attribute that attraction as one more unexpected outcome resulting from the influence of COVID. The list of wholesale changes as to how we live, interact and go about our daily lives as a result of the pandemic is long and varied. While our memories of that frightening and unsettling time are fading, the adaptations, changes in routine, and shifts in direction and attitudes that were forged under pressure in the deepest part of that 18-month period will endure for years. There's the growth of remote everything, the hyper explosion of e-commerce, the sensitivity to any sniffle or cough as the leading edge of something much worse, and yes, the increased interest in bread making.

While Google searches for the term and its analogs quadrupled in a flash during the initial sting of the crisis, they quickly plummeted back to historically average ranges once people realized that you could get Target or Amazon to deliver a loaf of sliced multigrain or hearty white. But there was a determined subset who took the impetus to try their hand at making their own, less as a matter of survival and more as a chance to finally try something that took time and finesse that they didn't usually have. What started as a curiosity turned into a hobby turned into a skill that, even when the initial perceived need evaporated, became less a novelty and more of a routine.

Now the aforementioned individuals (and add me to that pot) pride themselves on an ability that to non-fellow followers can seem somewhere between art and magic. Even though the ingredients and methods are basically the same and have been since the first loaf was made some 12,000 years ago by hunter-gathers in a desert in Jordan, search for instructions and you will get north of 1.4 billion hits. That means there is a fair amount of variability to discuss, share, argue and advise from one aficionado to another.

Make no mistake: for all the press on how DIY sourdough is the next basic black, these home bakers offer no challenge to the commercial behemoths or even the artisan niche providers, nor are they leading edge of a scalable revolution in consumption. The commercial bread market in the US is a nearly $26 billion business, which when one researcher broke it down 3 years ago, consisted of 10 billion bagels, 52 billion slices of bread and 205 billion tortillas. So even though the average American consumes 53 pounds of the stuff each year, the odds are that the person you are standing next to is more likely to have eaten a slice of Dave's Killer Organic than their own loaf.

No matter: those of us in the fraternity are smitten. Once we have identified one another, the tools, tips and tricks provide an endless source of engagement and exchange. We debate methods and troubleshoot problems, share pictures of triumphs and failures, listen to workarounds and enhancements. More than once a fellow traveler has come up to me in a work or social setting, and apropos of nothing, asked about my proofing method for sourdough or technique for turning leftover starter into grilled pizza dough. Were there a DEA agent eavesdropping nearby, I'm sure he or she would think we were exchanging home brew meth recipes: "Ya gotta be careful not to disturb it while the gas is building up, otherwise it'll go flat. Not too warm. Low and slow, that's how you get the best high."

Some people play golf, others crochet. There are books clubs and drum circles, poker nights and tennis round robins. Each is a way to reach out and bond with like-minded individuals, to cross over social, ethnic, racial and gender boundaries and celebrate shared interests. This is but one more of that ilk, with the added benefit of being able to eat your triumphs. Nothing wrong with a photography club, but while a picture of a whole wheat sourdough boule might look good, it actually tastes better.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford makes a loaf every week or so. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Break the Rules

We are a society of rules and laws. Whether it be in the public sphere, on the playing field or just in our interactions with each other, we have sets of guidelines that dictate our interactions, some formal, some less so. Step out of line and you risk punishment of one form or another, be it arrest and prison or arched eyebrows and mild disapproval. 

In the case of laws, the establisher and arbiter is the state, and the consequences for breaking said laws are pre-determined and don't vary regardless of condition or circumstance. Penalties can run from punitive to disciplinary, from the aforementioned slammer to fines and sanctions. While there are certainly exceptions, in the main "we" generally follow them, and stay on the right side of the line.

But rules? Rules, as they say, are meant... nay, are just begging... to be broken. The second someone somewhere sets down an edict as to how you have to do something is the moment that certain members of the consuming audience go the other way. Sometimes it's intentional, other times it's not, but broken is broken. Whether it's cleaning up after yourself, keeping your dog on a leash or using your work email for personal business, the list of transgressions each of us is guilty of is long and varied. Guilty with an explanation perhaps, but guilty none-the-less.

Usually the areas where this happens are more benign than not. We take a call in the quiet car, we have more than 10 items in the checkout lane, we pour out the last of the coffee and don't start a new pot. We know we are doing wrong, and will likely piss off somebody, but the world will not cave in because of our actions. Besides, even if we get flagged, the repercussions are generally minor. Perhaps it is one more death by a thousand cuts for civil society, but we seem to be muddling through just fine even with people sharing their Netflix password.

In that same vein, as a person who bangs out proposals, overviews and yes, columns, I am conscious of the number of times my word processor flags a segment of my writing in blue, indicating a deviation from the accepted standards. We all learned those rules way back in the Wonder years, when Mrs. Howe or Mr. Jenkins taught them to us: don't split your infinitives, never start a sentence with a conjunction, pronouns and subjects should agree, and on and on. They were codified by unnamed authorities over centuries and passed down through style guides and fifth grade teachers, and whoa to those that used "it's" when they really meant "its."

However, as our primary method of written communication has shifted from handwritten missives to electronic hunt-and-peck, the state-of-play is that most of the rules are honored more in the breach than in the following. That doesn't make it "right," just accepted. It's like the Shibuya Crossing in Japan, where, when the light changes, everybody crosses the intersection from every angle. It's a madhouse, but what the hell are you going to do about it?

But (oops... there I go) occasionally there is an acknowledgement by the powers that be that recognize the reality of the situation, or at least say that perhaps the emperor doesn't have any clothes after all. Such was the case recently when Merriam-Webster, the oldest dictionary publisher in the United States, and one of the aforementioned keepers of the linguistic canon, posted on Instagram that "It is permissible in English for a preposition to be what you end a sentence with." They point out that the idea came from writers who were trying to align English with Latin, but there was indeed no ironclad rule about it. Mr. Jenkins in his grave is turning over. (See what I did there?)

To a very large extent the proper reaction is "so what?" Somewhat echoing the legal spat over originalism vs. textualism, there are indeed rules that guide us in standardizing and formalizing the written word, and we do well to use them as a template. On the other hand, language is a living, breathing thing, and has to adapt as the way we communicate changes, with those changes sometimes being productive, other times less so. It is up the user to wield the tools given to build the appropriate house, and for the consumer to decide whether to live in it or not. 

I, for one, come down squarely on the side of change. If it sounds right, if it makes the point, by all means do it. Ignore that Oxford comma, use that slang, run those sentences on. Weekly you will see those efforts here, and you can decide for yourself their success or failure. While I would never elevate this beyond what it is and classify it as anything more than a weekly rant, I side with Pablo Picasso's edict: "Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist." 

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford tries to write to be read. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

An Audience of One

This is about your mom. And your kid. And your wife. And me. I love them all, and I've told them so. Wait, wait: before you call the cops, child protective services or my wife, allow me to explain.

When the Motorola DynaTAC 8000x debuted as the first commercial cell phone in 1973, it weighed about three pounds, cost $3,995 (about $12,370 in today's dollars), was the size of loaf of bread and was in limited supply. It enabled you to call untethered from your desk or home, and while that wasn't nothing, that was about it. Much has changed since then, with the price and size plummeting, and the capabilities and availability increasing. Today mobile phones are globally ubiquitous, are almost a thousand times faster than a mid-eighties Cray-2 Supercomputer, and in almost half the world's countries, over 90% of the population own at least one. 

Smart phones have advanced so far that many have given up on desktop computers and wired phones of any type. App development for mobile devices has reached the point where the number and sophistication of programs designed to run on that 6" slab of electronics in your pocket matches or outpaces that which is being created for other platforms. And more and more people are cutting their home and office cords. As a result, most people can no more conceive of being separated from their cells than they can from their arms. Hell, you got two of those; you only got one iPhone 15. 

That also means that all those things you used to do in the privacy of your home or office or a quiet space in the corner you can now do, and do do, anywhere. Banking, shopping, researching your next vacation, reading the headlines, and of course, connecting with friends, business associates and family. You can confirm your tee time with buddies while on the train, review that merger agreement while driving to the supermarket, and catch up with your sister while you take a walk.

The thing, though, is that many of us choose to do these things not only from anywhere but with an audience. Maybe not an intentional one, but a gaggle of onlookers none-the-less. Glance over while commuting home on the bus and you might see someone paying their bills. Look over at the table next to you at lunch and you see someone browsing Amazon for a new toaster. Unless you have super-vision, the itty-bitty screen makes it so you are observing rather than picking up account numbers. But if they are watching adult toy reviews on YouTube, it's hard to un-see that.

And then there's chatting (and here's where your wife or kid or mom comes into play). More and more, conversations that used to be private are public. It's hard not to listen when the person next to you is yakking away oblivious to the fact that there are others within earshot. Discretion? Privacy? Embarrassment? For some those seem to be antiquated ideas. There seems to be virtually no topic... doctor's appointments, relationship issues, digestion problems... that can't be talked about loudly with spectators.

Most often, however, it's innocent chatter to which you are uninvited yet present. It's not like you are party to the conversation, but it's happening in your orbit. So what is the proper etiquette? Acknowledge it? Ignore it? There is a third tack, which I've been taking recently: participate in it.

In one case an associate walked over to me while on the phone, seemingly talking with his wife. "Yes, honey, I'll pick you up." He showed me a single finger and mouthed "one minute." He continued: "It's no problem, should be done here in plenty of time." A beat, a nod, another beat." Yup. Look, Gotta go. Safe travels. Love you." To which I quickly chimed in, "Yes honey, safe travels, love you too." He smiled and said into the phone, "And Marc loves you too." There's was a brief retort from her end (Maybe something like "Who the hell is Marc???" or similar), after which he nodded, said goodbye, and hung up. He just looked at me and laughed, and we moved on to business. 

At a break I went to get a cup of coffee. Standing and waiting for my turn at the pot, the guy stirring his cup ahead of me was also on the phone, seeming to talk to a child, "Yes, you can go to Jimmy's, but you have to do your homework first." A nod. "Yes, I'll tell mom, but you have to promise to get it done You can do it, just try." Listen, nod. "OK, I'll see you later. Love you." I couldn't resist: "It's not that hard! Love you too!" The guy looked at me and smiled as he listened back. "See, Marc doesn't think it's hard either." He listened to a similar response as before, and laughed as he hung up, shaking his head. "Thanks," he said, "maybe he'll listen to you."

Not an hour later I was riding down in an elevator when a young woman got on chatting away via her earbuds. "Yes, mom, I will." Nod, listen. "Sure, when I get home." Listen, nod. "OK, I can do that." Listen. "Yes, love you too." To which I piped up, "Tell mom I love her too." The woman looked at me, smiled and laughed.

By default I'm a friendly person, and try and behave that way. My wife has taught me by example to be outgoing and connect with people I don't know. Am I being too chummy with strangers? You can decide for yourself. Just stand next to me, and make the call.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford likes to meet new people, anywhere, anytime. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Is That Your Face?

The airport drill is familiar to most. Get in the security line. Pull out your boarding pass or call it up on your phone. Fish out your license or passport. Then shuffle forward slowly until you get to the head of the line and are motioned to step up to the desk to be verified. Been there, done that. But more often these days what happens next is the front line in the latest evolutionary change in our lives, the marriage of big data, big brother and big AI.

In an increasing number of airports, it is no longer left to the TSA agent to confirm that your boarding docs match you. Rather, he or she puts your ID into a reader, then motions for you to stand in front of a camera which looks at your face. It uses biometric scanning to match the picture on your government approved ID to your in-real-life in-person mug. If those two can be connected, and that name is in the database for the day, they wave you through. The TSA agent could be blind (no comments, please) and it wouldn't make any difference. The machines got your back, or in this case, face.

In certain situations it even goes a step further. If you have registered with the Global Entry program and are returning from abroad, or are a TSA Trusted Traveler at certain airports and airlines, you can keep your wallet in your pocket. As you walk up to the camera it automatically compares your features to the picture it has on file. Before you can say "which gate?" they clear you and wave you through. It's still up to the folks manning the scanner to determine that your iPad, Gameboy, phone, associated chargers, cables and spare battery packs are just that, and not capable of being reassembled into an IED, but assuming so, you are deemed not to be a danger to your fellow passengers.

Back in 2013, when Apple introduced a fingerprint scanner as a way of unlocking your phone, it's primary purpose was not so much to secure your mobile bank account (there weren't any), but to stop people from butt dialing their last call. Surveys showed that nearly half of users didn't bother to set a password or PIN to start the process, and so every time they sat down a certain way it called mom. Like many innovations out of Cupertino, it proved so popular that other manufactures adopted it, and by 2021 that method was tied with passwords as a way to lock and unlock your device.

The method spread outward from our personal devices to other places where security was warranted, be it entry ways or financial institutions. But if anything pushed the ball further down the road it was the pandemic, and the desire to have a system that was contactless, one not requiring you to put your fingers and hands where every other person smudged their own germs. Coinciding with advances in accuracy, computer power and better, cheaper cameras, we went from scanning fingers to faces. No need to rub that French-fry grease from your thumb, you just looked like, well, you usually do. With an accuracy rate of 99%, the same as fingerprints, it was faster, less hassle and just as good. And you could pass the challenge with gloves on.

There are, of course, privacy concerns, that once the government or a company has your pic on file they can single you out even if you don't want to be. And advances in AI modeling are raising concerns that an "artificial you" could be created that would pass muster and gain entry to your personal world. If you have any doubt about how real a deep fake can be, watch the video of Billy Joel's new song, where he appears singing the just-written hit as he looks now, but also as he appeared in the 70's, 80's and 90's. You will do a double take as I did.

So what's the next step? No way of knowing, but beginning in July of this year the Vietnamese government will begin collecting biometric information from its citizens for identification purposes. It will include iris scans, voice samples and actual DNA. Should they prove unbreakable, one could see other countries adopting similar standards. And so it's not inconceivable that at some point in the future, to prove it's you getting on that Jet Blue Flight to West Palm Beach, you will need to stare into a lens, recite a limerick and produce a urine sample. Don't even ask what it will take to get an exit row.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford was ID'ed returning from London before he even got to the entry kiosk. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.