Comfort in a Bowl

As Iga Świątek was marching through the women's draw at Wimbledon, she engaged in that time-honored tennis tradition, the post-match on-court interview. After winning her third-round contest, interviewer Annabel Croft asked her the usual stuff about the win, the court, her attitude, and so on. Świątek said that she was "in the zone" and not focused on other things, like what she might have for dinner. Croft followed up and asked her that now that she had won, had she indeed decided what to eat? Świątek said that fish and chips was too heavy, and she was craving her childhood favorite, pasta with strawberries. As the crowd tittered, Croft tried to bring it back to a Wimbledon staple: "Oh, that's strange! With cream as well?" Świątek then described a Polish summertime treat of pasta, strawberries and yogurt. "It's just great. You should try it guys!"

The Pole may have a more powerful and spin-heavy forehand than you do, but gastronomically speaking she is no different. In times of stress it's not uncommon to turn to the things that bring us comfort. Most of us have given up on stuffed animals and blankies, and have to be content with well-worn jeans, sweatpants or slippers. But one carryover from our childhoods that we can still enjoy are the foods that calmed us down when we were five. It might be mac and cheese or mashed potatoes, spaghetti and meatballs or meatloaf and gravy. Doesn't make any difference if you're a mom or dad with a toddler, a neurosurgeon or both: Cheez Whiz and crackers might be just the thing to take you to your happy place. How else to explain that NFL teams easily go through at least 80,000 Uncrustable peanut butter and jelly sandwiches a year?

Those options are ones with which most in this country are familiar. There are of course regional favorites: if you're in the south, biscuits and gravy might remind you of home, while those in the southwest might crave grandma's tacos, and New Jersians wax rhapsodic over Taylor ham. And then there are specific examples that are mothers' milk to the locals, but cause raised eyebrows to those outside the area code. In most of the country chili is a stew of beans and meat and tomatoes in some combination, comforting on a cold day. Fine, but in Cincinnati it's more of a Mediterranean-spiced meat sauce, and generally served over spaghetti or hot dogs. Better not to ask.

Go beyond these shores, and like Iga's pasta and berries, while the favs might be strange to us they might be oh-so-calming to the locals. Years ago I was in Hong Kong with a colleague who was Asian, and all she wanted was some congee, a rice porridge like her mother used to make. But you don't have to go that far. Head just a bit north to our Canadian neighbors, and the way to settle the masses is with a serving of poutine, assembled by topping a heap of French fries with cheese curds and gravy. Meanwhile in Scotland the national dish is haggis, a savory pudding containing sheep's heart, liver, and lungs minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and traditionally cooked in the animal's stomach. And lest you think that only foreigners have strange tastes, our fellow countrypeople who live in Alaska enjoy what is referred to as Eskimo ice cream, a mixture of animal fat, berries and sometimes fish. 

Should Ms. Świątek be back next year to defend her title at Wimbledon, I would not be surprised if you are able to buy a bowl of "makaron z truskawkami" at the concession stand at the All England Lawn Tennis & Croquet Club. And should they sell more than a few servings, it just might start a new tradition of offering snacks themed to the favs of the champion. Coco Gauff loves potato chips, while Carlos Alcaraz craves sushi. Perhaps once Kwon Soon-woo, the highest ranked South Korean on the men's tour completes his compulsory military service and returns, he'll make a run up the standings. Should he win at Wimby, next to the fish and chips and scones with clotted cream you might find beondegi, a South Korean favorite, which is boiled or steamed lightly seasoned silkworm hatchlings. It's said they taste like wood. Comfortable now?

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Marc Wollin of Bedford finds peanut butter works in times of high or low stress. His column appears weekly via email and online on Substack and Blogspot as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.

Ride On

Ever since our kids were little we have always had bikes at our house. In recent years mine was a drop handlebar Raleigh that I got in 1983, while my wife's was a Walmart cruiser she got when we upgraded the kids' from training wheels to mountain bikes. All were long in the tooth, still usable if not exactly up to date. 

Several years ago, with the kids long gone, we gave away the two they no longer used. As to hers and mine, it was only a matter of time before something snapped at the most inopportune time. So my birthday present a few years back was a new hybrid, one which enabled me to take long rides and not feel like I was on borrowed time. This year we did the same for her, enabling us to start a new activity of going out for a short ride in our neighborhood after dinner, and longer ones when the opportunity presented itself. 

Like any new hobby or activity, it was also an opportunity to buy all kinds of stuff, some necessary, some not so much. A solid helmet is a given. Likewise a bag to put stuff in, and a front and back light to make us more visible. It's handy to have something to hold your phone for mileage, maps and music. And while it harkens back to streamers on your handlebars and a squeezy horn, it is much nicer to have a bell as opposed to yelling "On your left!" every time you pass a person.

Were we to only ride out from our house that might be the end of it. But venturing further afield means putting a rack on the car and hitching them up. It took a little doing to find a model that works with my vehicle, not to mention a collection of bungee cords to secure that whole thing. Problem solved, and now we can drive to one of the numerous local rail trails and start our journey there. 

That's for day trips. Our next adventure is to bring our bikes on some upcoming long weekends to visit family and friends, adding a day at the beginning to ride elsewhere. But that means leaving our bikes in public spaces like parking lots, as well as out overnight, and so we need a way to secure them. So time for yet another accessory, a lock.

Where you ride and where you leave your bike helps to define the best model. Reports say that many bike thefts are crimes of opportunity, when they are left unattended or lightly secured with a simple cable that's easy to cut. Like anything regarding security, whether it's online or your house, it's a balancing act involving multiple factors. And since this solution is one you have to carry, to effectiveness and ease you have to add weight, portability and packing.

In forums and lists online, users dish the best options and the pros and cons of each. For city riding a steel "u-lock" is deemed the best: hardest to break and quickest to deploy. Some prefer a heavy-duty chain with shackle, but carrying it is an issue: you often see riders with them slung over their shoulder bandolier style. For our purposes, both seemed overkill and inconvenient. That's said, I was tempted by one called the "V2 Heavy Duty Deterrent Bike U Lock with Anti-Theft Chemicals." Its form factor is a u-lock, if a little thicker than some. The reason is that the steel tube is hollow, and filled with the "anti-theft chemical" referenced in the name. Cut it, and it releases its contents on the cutter. As to what that chemical is, it's best defined by the brand name of the device: Skunklock. Or as described by one unfortunate purchaser who experienced a leak, "I know what this lock can do and how my living room smelled after that last lock made me throw up. I pray God's mercy on whoever cuts it." You almost want to buy it and hope someone tries to steal your ride. 

I opted for a simpler solution, a folding steel bar thing that is heavy but packable. Hopefully its mere appearance will ward off any casual thefts, and the pros will look elsewhere. In the meantime, I think we strapped enough stuff to ourselves and the frame to get back to riding. But I have to say: those gloves look cool.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford has loved pedaling since he was a kid, if you'll have it. His column appears weekly via email and online on Substack and Blogspot as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.

Cold Economics

There are literally hundreds of pages in the new tax act, 900 or so depending on your printer. Not wanting to rely on just the headlines, I downloaded the actual bill and scanned the text from beginning to end. In it I see lots on tariffs and taxes, on prices and payments. There are references to housing and energy, to agriculture and health. It would seem that almost every corner of economic activity is mentioned, except one that touches us all. 

You may come down on one side or the other as it relates to investing in clean energy or domestic chip production, but it's summer. And in this season, if there's a singular topic that unites left and right, it's our key consumable. While we may disagree, indeed, quibble passionately about the best variety, delivery system and embellishments, I am frankly amazed that the bill's writers didn't include protection and controls for the only ICE that really matters at this time of year, ice cream.

We're talking a market worth over $18 billion last year, one expected to grow nearly 4% annually over the next 8 years. It's a product consumed enthusiastically by every demographic regardless of gender, age, ethnicity or geography. It covers every type of manufacturing entity, from corporate conglomerates to mom-and-pop shops. And while we produce 1.3 billion gallons of the stuff every year, we have a trade imbalance, importing more than we export. All of those factors should make it as least as important as those other economic segments. Yet while the tax bill put aside $10 billion to go to Mars, it made no mention of subsidizing a cone with sprinkles.

The economics and options make it ripe for oversight. Start with variations. Doesn't matter whether you are from Durham or Dallas, Chicago or Chattanooga. Walk into your local grocery store and there's a dizzying array from Moose Tracks (vanilla ice cream, chocolate peanut butter cups and fudge swirl) to Chunky Monkey (banana ice cream with fudge chunks and walnuts) to New York Strawberry Cheesecake (cheesecake ice cream with a swirl of strawberry sauce and spiced graham cracker crust pieces). Look a little harder and you can find Bubble Gum, Mac n'Cheese and Bacon, flavors which require a rationale but no explanation. All of that in spite of the fact that survey after survey shows that vanilla, chocolate and strawberry are America's favorite flavors. Yet if you are lucky you'll find those on the bottom shelf behind the Dulce de Leche. 

The pricing is equally disparate. A container of Breyers vanilla will cost you $4.00, or 8 cents a fluid ounce. Meanwhile, a tub of the same flavor from Turkey Hill works out to 11 cents a fluid ounce, while the Ben & Jerry's version costs triple that. And that's in package form. Go to an ice cream emporium, and the cost goes up yet again. Since your local King Kone doesn't sell anywhere but at their stand, it's hard to make a direct comparison. But go to current darling Van Leeuwen and you can match it up. The cost of a typical serving at the storefront is about the same a pint at the store, while containing three quarters or so of the volume. If you throw in the cone for free that's a 50% premium. Yes, you can argue that there's a difference for all those brands and form factors, just as there is between a Fiat, a Ford and a Ferrari. But if it's 90 degrees out, do you really care about the fat content? And will your eight-year-old appreciate the distinction once she covers it with hot fudge and jimmies?

Still, while I might sneer at the increasingly bizarre flavors, or grouse about the price of a cup or cone at the shore, I've never not bought one when the opportunity presented itself. For while there is no rule against consuming gelato or sorbet or ice cream in February, once the calendar ticks past Memorial Day, and certainly after July 4th, it is all but a staple. And using a metric of "satisfaction per dollar spent," whatever the serving, it's hard to go higher on the scale. So just lick it up and buy the cone. Or as runner and writer Don Kardong put it, "Without ice cream, there would be darkness and chaos."

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Marc Wollin of Bedford has a Turkey Hill chocolate peanut butter jones he can't kick, and doesn't want to. His column appears weekly via email and online on Substack and Blogspot as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.

Not So Bon Voyage

Doesn't make any difference whether you are heading to the shore to cool off, to a city you've never been to before or to the mountains to take a hike. It's peak travel season, and before you go you've got to get your ducks in a row. That might mean a rolling suitcase and packing cubes, an extra phone battery and a hat with the floppy brim, not to mention that list of restaurants from your bake sale buddy. If you do your homework you can anticipate most of the issues and needs you're going to run across, and lay in the goods and knowledge to navigate most of them.

Most, that is, except for the people. No matter how much you pack, how much you research, how much you prepare, the one thing you can't account for is your fellow travelers, and there will be a lot of them. Domestic travel is up, with some reports indicating an over 200% increase over last year. International bookings are up as well, by some reports up over 170%. And while recent developments in Washington have some saying that international arrivals will be chilled, even that category is up 5% over last year for the first quarter. All that means that going there, being there and leaving there will bring you face to face with way more human beings than you encounter at home. 

Those people come in all flavors. There are those toting suitcases and those slinging backpacks. There are loud ones and pushy ones, fast ones behind you and slow ones in front of you. And all seem to have a phone out and are more intent on looking at the screen than what's in front of their face. Most are harmless if no less annoying. But all can make navigating restaurants, museums, airports and even just plain old streets a challenge. 

You can't avoid them, but you can recognize them and try and steer the other way. It might be one who gets on the plane late and then tries to cram a too-big carryon into an overhead bin, crushing all the other bags in sight. Or those that decide the best place to stop and have an extended conversation about where to have dinner is in the middle of the doorway to the next gallery. Or the person with a cough or other obvious malady which should have kept them in their hotel but rather is out and about infecting others. Other than holding your tongue and your breath, not much any of us can do.  

Then there's Turkish Airlines. They've chosen a more direct approach to combating one particular scourge, the so-called "aisle lice." Those are the folks that, regardless of the pleadings of the cabin crew to remain in your seats until parked at the gate, and then let those in front of you get up and disembark first, jump up immediately. They grab their bags and push towards the front, generally clogging up the aisle for all.

But do that on TA and it could cost you. According to a notice from the Turkish Directorate General of Civil Aviation as detailed on HalkTV, a national broadcaster, "Passengers who act contrary to the rules set forth in the circular may be subject to an administrative fine of 2,603 TL" which is about $67. Crews are now supposed to warn passengers right after they land that they should "Yerinizde kalın yoksa!" (Stay seated or else!)

As the carrier that serves the most countries in the world, there's a reasonable chance that the policy will spread. And not just to that situation, but to other infestations as well, such as the related "gate lice" that swarm boarding areas before their group is called. If it's successful it might set a new precedent, enforcing civility and good manners with a stick instead of a carrot. 

Assuming you're not one of those offenders (you're not, are you??) the best thing you do to cope with all these types is to chill out and roll with it. After all, in 99% of the situations it's not a zero-sum game. There will be plenty meals left to be had, coffees to sip, pictures to be taken and quiet to be found after they move on. And no matter when you get on the plane, everyone on it leaves at the same time and lands at the same time. So put your earpods in and take a deep breath; you'll be there before you know it.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford loves to travel, preferably off season. His column appears weekly via email and online on Substack and Blogspot as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.