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    Confection Objections

    Have you ever taken a bite of something and thought, “Nope, doesn’t taste right”? Gluten-free foods come to mind. Or salsa on a tortilla chip after the salsa’s turned south. There’s nothing more unnerving than expecting one taste and getting another. But at least with gluten-free (and bad salsa) you’re sort of prepared to be disappointed. The same can’t be said with more “sacred” foods. Like chocolate.

    Perfect candy

    I ate my fair share of Hershey’s bars as a kid but once Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups came along I switched my preference.  Reese’s somehow developed the perfect blend of peanut butter and milk chocolate into a convenient cup where you get both tastes in every bite.  The two-cup packs never convinced me to save one for later, but they did give the impression I was getting more for my money.

    Some things are better left alone… but Reese’s never got the message.  Instead, over the years they’ve produced endless varieties on the original peanut butter cup.  Before you knew it we had a choice of sizes (including “Big Cup”), fillings (peanut butter and banana creme?  Yuck!), and candy coatings, as well as holiday shapes like milk chocolate hearts, eggs, pumpkins, and bells, all with the peanut butter filling.  Finally, Reese’s Pieces joined the list, made infinitely more popular by their supporting role in the blockbuster film E.T.

    Imperfect candy

    The problem with variations on a Reese’s is the altered ratio of milk chocolate to peanut butter.  I would’ve enjoyed standing in ole man Reese’s shoes back in the 1920s when he taste-tested his way to perfection.  He should’ve put a patent on it, because too much milk chocolate or too much peanut butter just doesn’t taste right to me.  But at least we’re talking about milk chocolate here.  Now for the real injustice…

    The H.B. Reese Candy Company became a subsidiary of Hershey in 1963.  Their peanut butter cups instantly became Hershey’s bestseller (even surpassing the classic Hershey Bar).  But recently, subtly, quietly, Hershey committed a mortal sin of the candy world.  Rather than leaving well enough alone they changed the ingredients of a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.  Soon to come, there will no longer be any milk chocolate in a Reese’s, at least not by  proper definition.  Instead, you’ll indulge in a “chocolate-flavored coating”.  In the world of food, we all know flavoring is just another word for “artificial”. 

    This little con of Hershey’s was brought to the headlines by none other than a grandson of H.B. Reese (and who can claim better peanut butter cup credentials than that?).  Brad Reese is taking on Hershey for straying from the original recipe.  Granted, the price of cocoa beans – the basis of real chocolate – has gone through the roof the last few years, forcing companies to get creative with size, price, or ingredients.  I just wish Hershey offered me the option to still purchase the real thing.

    I’ve already noticed how Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups are shrinking.  The originals were 0.9 ounces.  Then they went to 0.8 ounces, then 0.75, and finally to the 0.7 juniors they are today.  If Hershey keeps this up, you’ll start thinking the “original” is a “miniature”.  I can make peace with shrinkage as long as the milk chocolate/peanut butter ratio stays the same.  But now the words “milk chocolate” will be removed from the orange wrapper.  Ask the FDA and they’ll say, “Sorry, “chocolate-flavored coating” is not the same as “milk chocolate”.

    I’m joining Brad Reese’s campaign to restore Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups to their original composition.  Some things are just worth their weight in gold.  Not that I’d pay gold for a peanut butter cup, but show me the original size, ratio, and ingredients and I might just be tempted.

    Some content sourced from the NBC News article, “Grandson of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups is in pieces over missing milk chocolate”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”. 

  • Lucky Charms

    St. Patrick’s Day will be here in less than a month. The “holiday” is a once-a-year excuse to wear something green, pinch if you don’t, and carouse with abandon in the streets. There’s no real significance to any of it. On the other hand, St. Patrick’s Day gets me thinking about Ireland, leprechauns, and the four-leaf clover, which is a symbol of good luck.  Just like Olympic Games mascots.

    Tina and Milo

    Can you name the animals represented by the mascots at this year’s Winter Olympics?  “Tina” and “Milo” (takeoffs on the cities of Cortina and Milan – nice) are stoats, which you’d hope to be furry and cuddly little creatures, but in fact are anything but.  Stoats – first time I’ve heard the word – are “voracious predators”; carnivores in the same classification as otters, ferrets, and wolverines.  They’re so aggressive they can take down prey six times their size.  New Zealand used a bunch of them in hopes of controlling their rabbit population but instead the stoats wiped out untold numbers of a species of native bird.

    Fierce cheerleader

    A stoat may seem like a curious choice for a mascot, but by definition it makes sense.  Mascot (derived from the French mascotte or “lucky charm”) is supposed to drum up the competitive juices of fans and athletes; a sort of fierce cheerleader leading the charge to defeat the opposition.  Yeah, that doesn’t quite work at the Olympic Games.  As the host country you’re supposed to be friendly and cordial to the world’s visitors; not fist-pump and taunt as if to say, “Italy’s gonna take you out!”

    Of course, that’s why Tina and Milo wear permanent smiles, colorful scarves, and make themselves available for purchase as soft stuffed animals instead of looking and acting like real stoats.  They don’t want you to be afraid… they want you to spend.

    Tina and one of her “Flo” snowdrop flower friends

    Olympic mascots drum up the competition at the cash register, not at the venues.  Mascots are the faces of the Olympics; at least, the marketing and merchandising faces.  Over there in Italy, the “plushies” have been so popular they sold out within the first few days.  Patrons complained of waiting over two hours in line at the Olympics “megastore” and walking away with zero stoats.

    Tina and Milo are just latest in a long line of Olympic mascots dating back to the 1960s.  It’s interesting to review the (every other) years and see those mascot names and faces again because, I don’t recognize a single one of them.  It’s as if all the mascot fuss is extinguished along with each Olympic flame.  Regardless, here are a few of my forgettable favorites:

    Shuss – the little man on skis – is the original Olympic Games mascot.  He was created for the 1968 Winter Games in France, and is the first and last mascot you would consider resembling anything close to “human”.

    Waldi – a dachshund – came along just four years after Shuss.  Perfect species of dog for a Games held in Germany, right?  And here’s a clever detail: Waldi is shaped like the route of the Olympic marathon run through Munich.

    Roni – a racoon – was the mascot for the 1972 Winter Games in Lake Placid, and the first in line of what I’d consider unattractive U.S. Olympic mascots.  I’ll pass on every one of them.

    Sam – an eagle – hosted the 1984 Summer Games in Los Angeles.  Okay, I get the “Uncle Sam” connection but I wouldn’t have stood two hours in line to buy this stuffed animal, would you?

    Magique – an I-don’t-know-what – “starred” at the 1992 Winter Games in Albertville, France.  He (she?) actually isn’t so bad compared to several others on the list.

    Haakon and Kristin – full-sized figures from Norwegian history – hosted the 1994 Winter Games in Lillehammer.  Sorry, but doesn’t it look like Haak and Kris just want to come at you on their skis?  The stuff of horror movies.

    Izzy – another “I-don’t-know-what” – was all over the 1996 Summer Games in Atlanta.  Leave it to the U.S. to come up with something neither human, animal, nor even “object”, yet somehow be the only mascot I can recall thirty years later.

    If a mascot translates to a good luck charm, perhaps that’s a good pitch to sell more stuffed animals at the Olympics.  Not that these Winter Games need help selling stoats.  No doubt you’ll find the ferocious furries on eBay as soon as the Games conclude.  Which has me wondering, why would you overpay after the fact for something nobody will ever remember?

    Some content sourced from the CNN Sports article, “Word of the Week: The adorable, lethal stoat…”, the NBCOlympics.com article, “A look back at Olympic mascots through the years”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”. 

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    Leave Me Alone

    Helen Reddy was an Australian pop singer from the 1970s who would’ve been considered a pioneer of female empowerment (had there been such a term back then). Reddy’s hit I Am Woman leaned on the same pointed lyrics that made Madonna and Katy Perry so popular decades later. Though I Am Woman is Reddy’s most famous anthem, another of her chart-topping hits floats through my brain today: Leave Me Alone. It’s the song the residents of tiny Santa Maddalena di Funes should be singing in the streets of their picturesque mountain village.

    Santa Maddalena, Italy (Courtesy of Travel Wild/Stockphoto/Getty Images)

    If I asked you to describe a “village” – a term we Americans don’t use very often – what would that image include?  Mine would start with a small cluster of buildings, both residential and commercial, surrounding a cobblestone town square.  The buildings would look quaint and simple, like throwbacks to earlier times.  Narrow roads would lead into the square from the more sparsely populated surrounds.  You’d find a lake or two nearby, and clusters of trees here and there.  In the background, foothills or majestic snow-covered mountaintops.  And right in the middle of it all, a charming church or some other public building rising above the rest.

    I’ve just described Santa Maddalena to a tee.  This tiny, picturesque gathering, nestled on the eastern slopes of the Dolomite Mountains in Northern Italy, is the stuff of postcards and jigsaw puzzles.  There’s not much to it but the setting speaks for itself.  And the little church – St. John in Ranui – seems perfectly placed beside the more nondescript buildings.  Santa Maddalena is so attractive it draws 600 visitors a day during the peak travel season.

    February is not peak travel season in the Dolomites but the Winter Olympics are taking place just a couple hours from Santa Maddalena.  No doubt some of those sports fans will make there way over for a selfie.  And therein lies the problem.  Tiny Santa Maddalena simply can’t handle hundreds of tourists.  If they keep coming, the photo I led with really will be too good to be true.

    Were it not for the Chinese, Santa Maddalena might still be relatively undisturbed.  One of China’s mobile phone companies included an image of the village on its SIM card and suddenly its customers just had to know where to find Santa Maddalena.  A 2013 iPhone iOS update included images of the nearby mountains, adding to the draw.  Now village officials are considering the unthinkable: restrictions.

    It’s a move similar to what’s happening for the first time at the Trevi Fountain in Rome.  If you drive to Santa Maddalena you may now be stopped on the outskirts of town, where you’ll leave your car in (gasp!) a parking lot.  If you want to walk through town, you’ll have to purchase a ticket.  One enterprising resident added a turnstile at the edge of his fields so he can charge those who want to cross over.  Suddenly I’m having visions of food trucks and souvenir stands.  How sad.

    The plight of Santa Maddalena reminds me of those once-a-year lists you find in publications like U.S. News & World Report, where towns across America are ranked according to so-called “quality of life” criteria.  Whether the schools, the parks, the clean air, or feeling safe in the streets, your own little corner of the world might suddenly be declared a top-five place to live.  And that, my friends, is the kiss of death.  Now you’ve been discovered, and everyone has to see what the fuss is all about (or at least go visit for a selfie).  The masses throng to your backyard and some never leave.  A year or two later – surprise, surprise – you’re no longer “top-five”.

    Credit the residents of Santa Maddalena: they’re coming up with creative ways to discourage “over-tourism”.  In a particularly bold move, they’re going to require an overnight stay to be able to walk the streets, so that tourists actually give to the local economy instead of just taking that selfie.  IMHO all they really need to do is continue to be known as “Santa Maddalena” on the web.  You won’t find much if you search with those words.  As for “Santa Magdalena?”  That’ll get you there.  Even if you’ll find a quaint village of people singing Leave Me Alone.

    Some content sourced from the CNN Travel article, “Italian village restricts access to its Instagram-famous church”, and  Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”. 

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    A Ringing Endorsement

    This time of year the choices for sports on television are few and far between. Sure there’s a lot of basketball being played, but the football season wraps up on Sunday (Super Bowl LX), baseball doesn’t get underway until April, and unless you have the time and patience to watch golf you’re gonna channel surf without catching decent waves. But it’s also something of an illusion, because the Winter Olympic Games kick off tomorrow in Italy. You did know the Olympics are about to get underway, didn’t you?

    The 25th edition of the Winter Games comes to your living room in the next two weeks, hosted in Milan, Cortina, and several towns in the surrounding Dolomite mountains.  The natural venues of the region look spectacular, and no doubt the Italians will be worthy hosts to thousands of the world’s best athletes.  We’ll be treated to sixteen different sporting competitions on snow and ice, from figure skating to bobsledding to ski jumping.  Behind the scenes, you’ll get the usual inspirational stories, heartbreaking moments, and thrilling photo-finishes.  I just hope you actually hear about any of it.

    Just one section of the Games board

    ESPN.com, where I get my daily dose of sports, includes a list of “Top Headlines” at the beginning of their home page.  Today, less than forty-eight hours before the opening ceremonies, there is nothing about the Games.  No updates on the American athletes, no projections on when or where the U.S. will be at its most competitive, no “primer” to get you ready to sit down and watch… nothing.  You have to scroll way down, past NFL-this and NBA-that before you finally get to anything about what’s going on in Northern Italy.  Heck, even the Westminster Dog Show rated more press than the Winter Olympics today (which always begs the question, “Is a dog show considered ‘sports’”?)

    No, not these “Olympics”

    I’m glued to the coverage of the Olympics every time they come around (which is every two years, counting the Summer Games).  Even with paid, professional athletes, the Olympics are the purest form of global sports competition we have left.  The headlines – which will finally include the Olympics for the next two weeks – will speak more positive than negative, more jaw-dropping than ho-hum, with virtually no political undertones.  How refreshing is that?

    At least ESPN allots some space to the Games, however far down the page it may be.  Have a look at any of the major news websites and you’ll be challenged to find similar coverage.  Americans are too preoccupied with what’s going on in Washington, Wall Street, and the West Bank.  It’s ironic that today’s lead news story is about the Olympics (though not really).  Savannah Guthrie – one of the hosts of NBC’s television broadcast – pulled out to be with her family during the apparent abduction of her mother.  My prayers are with her.

    One month for just $10.99

    Since you’ll be hard-pressed to find a primer, here are a few tidbits about the upcoming Games.  There are 232 athletes on the U.S. Olympic team, the largest in our history of participation.  There are 25 venues for the competition – in four clusters across Northern Italy – making it the most geographically widespread Winter Olympics in history.  And for the next eighteen days, you’ll be able to catch all of the action (at reasonable times) on some form of NBC broadcasting, whether streaming or live television.  You’ll even get your fill of curling, easily the most misunderstood Olympic sport of them all.

    (click to enlarge)

    The Olympic Games, as the broadcasters are sure to say over and over, “transcend sports”.  The world records, the stories behind them, and the individuals who train tirelessly for these moments deserve our attention.  Team USA’s flag bearers this year are speed skater Erin Jackson and bobsledder Frank Del Duca.  Think about it – both of these athletes chose sports where their moment of glory (or defeat) starts and ends in a matter of minutes.  They are everyday people whose best-in-class performances are brought to the world but once every four years.

    Now go read all about it, or better yet… watch.  Otherwise I’ll think you’re ignoring my ringing endorsement of the Winter Olympic Games.

    Some content sourced from the NBC Olympics website, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”. 

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    Seasoned Greeting

    Back in my days in a corporate office, where the telephone was still the preferred means of communication, my peers and I developed a habit of answering calls without a greeting. The phone would ring and we’d simply answer with our name, like “John Smith…” and then wait for the caller to start the conversation. Whether this was an effort to be businesslike or a little intimidating can be debated. But it always felt awkward to me, like one of those greeting cards with nothing printed on the inside.

    Did you know the origins of “hello” go back six hundred years?  We’ve led with one version or another of the greeting countless times for centuries.  Take your pick from “hi”, “hiya”, “hey”, “howdy”, and even “hellaw” down here in the South: human nature demands something of an icebreaker before a conversation gets underway.  The no-greeting business calls I mentioned above suggest this is not a conversation, this is business.  Otherwise we need a starter word.  Think about it.  How awkward would it be to hug, shake a hand, or fist-bump without uttering a single word?

    The history of “hello” is dry and speculative but it’s safe to say most of us started using it as soon as we could speak.  Then, inevitably, we either embraced the word as our greeting or moved on to one of its offspring.  For me the preference was “hey”.  I find myself using “hey” whether I’m meeting someone for the first time or they’re a long-time acquaintance.  I tried “hey” on for size a long time ago and it suits me just fine.

    How “hello” reduced to “hi” is anyone’s guess, but it makes sense in the framework of the not-so-Queen’s English we use in America.  A Brit saying “hi” doesn’t sound quite right.  An American?  Pretty much what we expect.  A Brit can substitute “Good morning” or “Good evening” for “Hello”, while Americans just go with “Morning” or “Evening”.

    But even “hi” seems a little passé these days. I’m just as likely to get a Yo!, Sup!, or Hey-ya! from Millennials and younger.  Furthermore, if you gave any of those generations the choice they’d rather greet you with a text than with their voice.  That leads to a whole new approach to starting conversations.  Who starts a text message with “Hello, Dave!”  More likely it’s just “Dave…”, an emoji, or no greeting at all.

    [Blogger’s note: My favorite instance of “hello” comes at the end of the movie Jerry Maguire.  The line, “You had me at ‘hello’” has been recycled many times since but never as powerfully.  Pretty much launched Renée Zellweger’s career in a single sentence.]

    Beyond “hello” itself, the inflections of the voice convert the greeting into something else entirely.  We demand attention by saying He-LLO!!!  We question attention by saying HELLO? (… “is anybody home?”).  And if we say “hello” quickly we’re suggesting we don’t have time for the conversation that follows.  A greeting can make a lasting impression inside of a single word.

    We’ve lived in the South for a little while now, and in that time we’ve learned a new approach when it comes to greeting one another. When we’re introduced to someone for the first time we often exchange “hey” as the greeting. When we see someone we already know we go with “hey hey”.  I’m still trying on “hey hey” for size.  It feels a little forced to someone who grew up in the West.  Give me a few more years.

    A decade or two from now a wholly new greeting will be out there; one we’ll never see coming (seriously, did you ever think “yo yo” would replace “hello”?)  Maybe this new salutation will suit me or maybe I’ll flat out reject it.  Either way, “hello” rests comfortably in my back pocket whenever I need it.  Six hundred years of history suggests it’s not going anywhere in the next twenty.

    Some content sourced from the BBC article, “‘Hullo, hillo, holla’, the 600-year-old origins of the word ‘Hello’”. 

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The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.

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