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Whenever we get together with friends, the conversation travels several well-worn paths. After lamenting the state of the world (and agreeing not to spend the entire evening dwelling on it), we touch on families and health issues, sports, vacation plans, gossip about mutual friends not in attendance and new restaurants. We also talk about cultural highlights, be they concerts or other performances, local events or art shows. And especially since the pandemic turned us all into home theatre junkies, invariably one question comes up: "So what are you watching?"

In the past the majority of that viewing was on broadcast and then cable networks. But those numbers have been steadily dropping in favor of streaming services: in the four years leading up to May 2025, streaming usage grew by 71%, while cable viewing dropped by 39% and broadcast viewing fell by 21%. In fact, according to a March 2025 report from Deloitte, the average U.S. streaming video subscriber pays for four services at a cost of $69 per month, a figure up 13% from the previous year, while one in four reported spending more than $75 per month. 

Different folks have different tastes and preferences, and so not all are on the same wavelength. Some are sport aficionados, and subscribe to football or hockey packages, while others are classic movie buffs or horror fans. Still, there is generally a good deal of common ground, and most have one or two of the big guns, namely Prime, Netflix, Hulu or HBO Max. 

You would think that would offer ample opportunity to share perspectives and discuss opinions. But it's complicated by the synchronization issue. In the past, we all watched the same thing at the same time. That meant that if you were current with your weekly viewing nobody knew more than you did. Sure, you might miss an episode, and so plead with friends not to tell you who shot JR. But other than that you all were working from the same set of plot points: who was sleeping with who, the latest clues as to the killer, or the laugh out loud line that Billy said to Sabrina. 

With streaming, however, we're all on different schedules. You might have binge watched the entirety of season two of "The Crown" while your friends might still be getting their feet wet in season one.  That means there's not just the potential of spoiling the big reveal, but bringing up plot points which make no sense in the earlier viewing universe. Discussing the character arc of Detective McMurphy becomes an impossibility, not to mention that you don't want to give away that his daughter is now the lead prosecutor.

The breath of options has also meant there's a reasonable chance you're watching something your friends haven't, or at least not yet. As such, we've all turned into recommendation engines. We've always done this in other areas, telling friends if you like the pasta at Mama's, you should try Papa's. Now we're doing it for online entertainment. Netflix has done this for years with their "Cinematch" viewing system, best exemplified by the "Because You Watched 'Stranger Things' We Think You'll Enjoy.. " page. It was so successful that they even won a technical Emmy in 2013 for "Personalized Recommendation Engines For Video Discovery."

Just as TikTok has an algorithm that is tweaked to keep you coming back for more, so too has Netflix continually tuned their engine to offer you viewing options that seem right up your alley.  They've tried various methods to identify the underlying elements of a movie or show, and offer you suggestions that have the same "DNA." Those categories are sliced and diced ever finer, coded into buckets far beyond simply Rom-Coms and Thrillers. 

How fine? There's Code 1192582, which equates to "Binge-Worthy British Crime TV Shows" and includes "Adolescence" and "Top Boy." Or Code 3272152, a category labeled "Don't Watch Hungry" which sports "The Great British Baking Show" and "Culinary Class Wars." Code 81615585 equals "Small Town Charm" and includes "North of North" and "Gilmore Girls," while Code 81238162 is for "Supernatural Soaps," offering the stories of drama queens with a paranormal flair such as "Manifest" and "The Umbrella Academy." 

Forty-two years ago nearly half the U.S. population decided to sit down at the same time and watch the final episode of "M*A*S*H" together. Today the top 4 scripted shows average bout 6% viewership. We all had more in common when there were just three channels, but that ship has sailed. We can only hope they name a new James Bond soon so we have something we can all talk about together. 

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Marc Wollin of Bedford watches very little on television. He prefers to read. His column appears weekly via email and online on Substack and Blogspot as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.

Kiddie Capitalism

The rise of the gig economy has made it easier than ever to have a side hustle, even if the focus has changed. In years gone by you might have turned your expertise as a seamstress into making bespoke curtains, or leveraged your passion for baking into making custom birthday cakes. These days it's more likely you'll ply the internet, offering your design skills to redo a website or start a Substack rounding up the local music scene. Either way, the hope is that when you get done with your 9 to 5 that your 5 to 9 will offer some extra bucks, validation for what was formerly a hobby, and a deeper dive into something you enjoy doing.

Then there's the situation that kids face, where their 9 to 5 (actually probably more 8 to 330, depending on when the bus gets home) is not a revenue producing venture. None the less, their main occupation is and should be an education. But since the income potential from that vocation only occurs after the fact, they are faced with sourcing walking-around money. 

An allowance from mom and/or dad certainly is a start, but others turn to outside pursuits as well. Again, that has changed as decades have accumulated. In the past it might have meant cutting lawns or delivering newspapers, while these days it's just as likely to be, well, plying the internet via YouTube videos or Instagram posts. As digital natives, that means you might wind up competing with them on their home turf. The big difference is the audience: while your natural cohort might be Boomers, Gen X, Y or Z'ers, theirs is their contemporaries, the so-called Alphas born after 2013. You may not understand it or get it, but 12-year old kidfluencers are making change, sometimes more than just pocket. 

There is one exception where there is a crossover, where kids market to adults. You see it especially on fall weekends, when folks are out and about in their neighborhoods enjoying the good weather. You can get mighty thirsty from all that leaf watching and bike riding and strolling with friends. And while the first entrepreneurial effort to meet that need dates from shop owners in the 1870's in New York City, it has evolved to become an early entry into the world of capitalism for many a kid in the form of a lemonade stand. 

The setup varies though the elements are the same: an old folding table, a pitcher of drink, a stack of disposable cups, a box for cash, and a handmade sign. Appearing randomly on street corners and front lawns, they are usually staffed by a handful of kids, whether siblings or neighbors. Often a parent is hovering nearby to keep an eye on things, biting their knuckles as they try and keep hands off to  let the budding entrepreneurs figure it out. 

The kids' strong suit is marketing as opposed to execution. Enthusiastically yelling out to anyone going by, they offer a drink at a throw-away price point. Stop to sample their wares, however, and they get all flustered as to how much to put in the cup, what to do with the money and making change. As a side note, the product itself is usually from a store-bought mix, barely drinkable, but that's beside the point. These are not establishments looking to franchise on the basis of positive Yelp reviews. Still, some do sport the trapping of that forementioned gig economy: in a bow to the fact that very few people actually have cash anymore, the most enterprising examples accept Venmo, Zelle or PayPal, complete with QR codes for effortless payment.

Always ready to encourage budding masters of the universe, I stop and praise their efforts, but tell them I'm not allowed to drink the stuff. I offer them a dollar for a cup, but with the caveat that one of them has to consume it for me. Most look at me quizzically, but nod, assent to the deal, pour a serving and quaff it down. And then there are some that agree, pocket the money, then wait till I walk away and keep the inventory in the pitcher, future Sam Bankman-Frieds in the making.

Tomorrow that street corner will be back to normal, as the average life expectancy of these stands is in direct correlation to the attention span of a tween. And while it may be a Norman Rockwell snapshot from a bygone time, it's still a delight to see kids out and engaging with the world as opposed to staring at a screen. So make sure you have a few singles in your pocket when you venture out: Amazon had to start somewhere.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford prefers iced tea over lemonade. His column appears weekly via email and online on Substack and Blogspot as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.

Neighbor Peeping

Some prefer spring with its blooming flowers and warming temperatures, while others relish summer with its beaches and outfits of sandals and shorts. But I love fall. I love the crisp temperatures and the less crowded weekdays around town as people go back to school and back to work. For all of us indoctrinated by the perpetual cycle of education, it's when the new year really starts, when the new seasons for TV, film, music, dance and all the arts kick off in earnest. And from an aesthetic standpoint, it has my favorite look, as the trees and bushes turn from their summertime greens to reds, yellows and russets. Whether it's in the hills and mountains as you head further up or down county or country, in your own backyard, or even the side streets of cities and towns, it's a color pallet that has no equal.

Starting in the far north and working its way south on a weekly rolling basis, the peak of that display is always a moving target. Still, depending on where you live, as you read this you are likely hovering somewhere in or near the sweet spot. While it was in the 1860's that Emily Dickinson penned "The Maple wears a gayer scarf / The field a scarlet gown," credit goes to Vermont's Bennington Banner newspaper in the mid 1960's for originating the expression "leaf peeping." Since then, an entire tourism sub-industry has sprung up to cater to those heading to the mountains to see what Henry David Thoreau called the "the month of painted leaves."

However glorious it is, the season is a short one. The inevitable and eventual conclusion is that those same works of natural art drift down to the ground. What's left is a tangle of bare branches above, and a carpet of crispy crunchables below. In the woods it's merely a noisy coating, while for homeowners it begats a season of raking and blowing to gather up the detritus so it doesn't kill the grass or clog the cutters. 

But that process allows for a new activity. While your nearest fellow neighborhood dwellers may have been more or less shielded from your non-intentional prying eyes for the last 6 months, not so now. Through no fault of them nor affirmative action from you, that veneer of seclusion has been drifting away. And as those oaks and maples and birches shed their leaves, what's left is a see-thru scrim of branches that don't hide nuthin'. And that enables a new activity: neighbor peeping. 

Not to be confused with being a Peeping Tom or Tom-ess, with its connotation of intentional nefarious unwanted spying, this is much more accidental and casual catching-a-glance. Those who live in close quarters have mastered the art of not seeing what is in front of them, of averting their eyes from obviously unintentional exposure by a neighbor. But those of us with some separation as well as natural screening between us and the next haven't had to cultivate said talent. Meanwhile, on the peep-ee side, it doesn't mean that folks lead an exhibitionist lifestyle, just a more lackadaisical one concerning privacy. After all, no need to draw the blinds when the oak tree or hydrangea bush does it for you.

Not so at this time of year. The change of season creates a slow striptease of open windows. Walk through your neighborhood, glance from an upper floor across the street or drive home after dinner, and you are likely to see interiors that weren't meant to be exterior-ed. It might be a new painting on the wall or arrangement of furniture, folks eating dinner or a large screen TV showing "The Real Housewives of Wichita." And it's also likely you will see someone talking on the phone while walking around the living room sans pants, still another lip syncing to Taylor Swift in the front of the bedroom window, both formerly screened from prying eyes by maple leaves. 

We live in an "out loud" society, where so much that once was once private is now public. But with Instagram, Snapchat and YouTube it takes an intentional act to post something. As fall turns to winter and the leaves disappear, we may be posting publicly whether we want to or not. So remember as the natural curtains start to drift open that perhaps it's time to draw yours.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford loves walking and looking around. His column appears weekly via email and online on Substack and Blogspot as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.

A Chef and His Table

Whipped burrata croustade: Grilled peas and very old balsamic vinegar

Depending on the night, that might be the first of 8 or more courses that Jack Montgomery serves you. A foodie and self-taught cook, Jack created an 8-seat chef's table establishment in Edinburgh, Scotland. Called Argile, French for "clay," the name turns out to be an homage to the custom earthenware and pottery he had created for the restaurant, not to mention the malleable way he uses ingredients.

Steamed Shetland mussels: Dressing of Gordal olive juice and fig leaf oil

I asked him where his passion for food comes from. "The love of restaurants definitely comes from being dragged around France as a child. My parents weren't seeking luxury, but they did have a deep fondness for provincial French restaurants with a certain charm. My sister and I didn't appreciate our luck at the time, but we were quietly being indoctrinated into what the French would call 'les arts de la table.'" 

Ayrshire potato "cacio e pepe": Cured egg yolk, onion ash and red cabbage reduction

Jack moved to France while in university and lived above a market. While there he worked his way through Escoffier's 1903 bible of French cooking, "Guide Culinaire." He made it his mission to toy with ingredients he had never seen nor handled, be it fish, shellfish or spices. That led to some real kitchen experience in two French restaurants – "100 hour weeks were common" – followed up by training as a butcher and front-of-house roles to learn the world of wine.

Slow-cooked egg: 96hr onion-broth, lardo and togarashi

But his own restaurant? "For me it was never a destination I was rushing towards. Rather, I was fascinated by the intricacies of cooking, and my aim was simply to absorb as much knowledge as I could. Reading, dining out and working in kitchens all provided useful angles to learn from, and I literally ate, slept and breathed it." It was only later that the lightbulb lit: "Having lunch at a restaurant in London which sat 12 guests gave me the idea that maybe small is beautiful. This also seemed to provide a more realistically affordable route to opening somewhere of my own."

Dry-aged monkfish: Chamomile-confit tomato and a sauce of carrot and piment d'Espelette

The menu at Argile is a multi-course journey reflecting Jacks sensibilities and history. At its heart it's all about the component parts: "I think it's important that you should be able to identify and it should taste of what it is - ideally the best or most amplified version of itself." As to the cuisine itself, "we take the best Scottish produce we can find, we cook it with solid French technique, and sometimes we inject some global top notes, but that's mainly because I love Japan!"

Venison "kobujime": Purée of beetroot and cocoa butter; chewy beets glazed in smoked soy

Visit Argile and you are basically sitting with friends in Jack's kitchen. A sleek counter space in the quiet Marchmont section of the Scottish capital, Jack works with minimal equipment, the centerpiece being a Konro grill, a small Japanese indoor barbecue which runs on smokeless Binchotan charcoal. Along with his assistant Elliot, he cooks, serves, explains, chats, teaches and makes you feel like you are in his home. The night we were there we joined another couple from Washington State and one from Genoa, Italy for a three-hour journey, filled with wine, stories, unexpected tastes, conversation and laughter.

Sake lees cream: Strawberries macerated with elderflower,; lemon verbena meringue

I asked Jack why a small, limited-seat restaurant with a tasting menu vs. a more traditional establishment. There are practical considerations to be sure: "We are a small team. For each dish to have more than, say, three components, service would be slowed to the point that we'd struggle. So instead, smaller, more concise dishes - and more of them! - give us the chance to show more breadth across the menu." But it's got an upside as well: "Creating a multi-course menu opens lots of avenues to explore. It means dishes don't each have the same requirement to be 'complete,' but can highlight less-expected elements. For example, we were cooking a nice fennel garnish for a fish dish earlier this summer, and decided to make it a dish of its own."

Black sesame Bakewell: Roasted cherry compote and Valrhona Ivoire namelaka

What does he want diners to come away with? "I want my guests to enjoy something new. Maybe to come away with a changed perspective around some aspect of the food they've eaten. Maybe even just 'I didn't know an onion could taste like that.' We sometimes have guests who tell me at the end of the meal, 'I didn't think I liked mushrooms, but after tonight I think maybe I do.' That can be fun, but I'm not here to educate, challenge or lecture. My job ultimately is to give people an enjoyable night. I want to keep exploring, keep doing what we're doing, and try to make it better." 

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You can find Jack and Argile online at argilerestaurant.co.uk. Marc's column appears weekly via email and online on Substack and Blogspot as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.