Friend of Nancy Drew / FRI 5-15-26 / Edible algae dubbed "green caviar" / Jarring film transition to a new scene / Language of southern India / Mother of Don Juan / Good name for a yoga instructor / Civil rights activist Williams, an associate of Martin Luther King Jr. / Blind followers, informally / Competitor of the early Chevrolet 490 / Big name in meal prep kits / Use of a popular song to make a scene iconic, in film-speak / Vintage bike feature
Friday, May 15, 2026
Constructor: Maddy Ziegler
Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium
Word of the Day: TELUGU (41A: Language of southern India) —
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| [red = majority or plurality of native TELUGU speakers] |
Telugu (/ˈtɛlʊɡuː/ ⓘ; తెలుగు, Telugu pronunciation: [ˈt̪eluɡu]) is a Dravidian language native to the Indian states of Andhra Pradesh and Telangana, where it is also the official language. Telugu is a classical language with a recorded history of at least 2,000 years. Spoken by about 100 million people, Telugu is the most widely spoken member of the Dravidian language family, and one of the twenty-two scheduled languages of the Republic of India // It is one of the few languages that has primary official status in more than one Indian state, alongside Hindi and Bengali. Telugu is one of the languages designated as a classical language by the Government of India. It is the fourteenth most spoken native language in the world. (wikipedia)
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Tale of two puzzles. Well, three quarters of a puzzle and then one quarter of a puzzle. I was crushing this puzzle, a puzzle that at times seemed specifically designed for me, flying along with only slight hesitations here and there, no real difficulty ... and then I hit TELUGU. What made me mad was not the answer itself (it is, after all, "the fourteenth most spoken native language in the world," I can hardly begrudge its presence here) but my knowing it, or at least having seen it before, and just not being able to get a grip on it. That answer was like a wet bar of soap and I kept thinking I had it and it kept popping out of my hands. And then, because it was crossed by BESS (whom I did Not know) and something called SEA GRAPES (ditto), I really spun out (39D: Friend of Nancy Drew + 32D: Edible algae dubbed "green caviar"). I mean, comparatively spun out. I still managed to work around the chaos without too much trouble, but I have to acknowledge that there was, indeed, chaos there, for a bit. TELUGU is a language I learned about not from crosswords (TELUGU hasn't appeared in the NYTXW for 35 years) but from cinema. Specifically, once I started going to the movies in earnest (so, ca. 2023, after the pandemic had lightened up considerably), I noticed that my local Regal cinema frequently showed Indian-language movies I'd never heard of. Not old movies—current movies. There seemed to be a booming industry in Indian-language films that were showing right alongside all the western films at the cineplex, but with none of the commercial hype (that I could see). And I know that at some point I noticed that the languages of some of these films were not ones I had heard of (i.e. not Hindi or Bengali or URDU). TELUGU is definitely one of those languages (apparently there's a whole TELUGU-language film industry, called (unsurprisingly) "Tollywood"). Here's an example—a movie released earlier this month called Jetlee:
Yes, I learned about TELUGU at (or while preparing to go to) the movies. I then forgot it, obviously, but now I am remembering it. Speaking of movies, man, this puzzle really brings the cinematic content. None of your run-of-the-mill movie stuff, this puzzle's got FRED MacMurray in Double Indemnity (the quintessential film noir) and SMASH CUTs (37A: Jarring film transition to a new scene) and NEEDLE DROPs (55A: Use of a popular song to make a scene iconic, in film-speak) and an APE COSTUME!? You had me at FRED MacMurray, puzzle. Cinematic STUNNERS, everywhere I looked. And then lots of other wonderful stuff as well. That opening corner—I don't love that the clue for HOME CHEF reads like a paid ad, but it's still a good phrase, and its partners, "I'M ALL EARS" and "LET ME AT 'EM," are even better. Usually, if I'm compelled to take a screenshot early in a puzzle, it's because the fill is so bad and I feel the need to document it. But today, the opposite. I said "nice" out loud and decided, "you know, I should take a snapshot of niceness, for once."
And then there was "IT'S UP TO YOU," ROGUE WAVE, BACKWOODS, VACANT LOT, LIVE WIRES ... the puzzle delivers on all fronts. The only objection I had along the way was to APE COSTUME ... not to the thing itself, but to the phrasing. I feel like APE SUIT is le mot juste (are les mots justes?). I had APE and immediately thought "how am I going to make SUIT stretch to seven letters." I do like that APE is underneath BANANA, though. Very nice touch.
Bullets:
- 16A: Good name for a yoga instructor (MATT) — cute. I had the terminal "-T" and sincerely (if briefly) thought "... BENT? Are guys named BENT now?" (Bengt, yes, BENT, probably not)
[in which Bengt Ekerot plays Death]
- 1A: To the ___ (as much as possible) (HILT) — MAX! NTH! NINES! It took at least (1 2 3) four stabs at this thing before I got it right.
- 20A: Civil rights activist Williams, an associate of Martin Luther King Jr. (HOSEA) — no idea. A simple biblical clue would've made this easier (for me) but the puzzle was already so easy (for me) that I didn't mind getting slowed down by a mystery proper noun here or there ("there" being TELUGU and BESS).
- 6D: Mother of Don Juan (INEZ) — not sure I'll ever learn whether this is INES or INEZ, but luckily today I had the "Z" in place (thanks to ELIZA) (19A: Miss Doolittle of "Pygmalion").
- 24D: Setting for the graphic novel series "Persepolis" (IRAN) — yet another way in which this puzzle seemed custom-made for me. I'm finishing up grading for my Comics class just this week, and I (literally!) gave away my copy of Persepolis to a curious student last week.
- 34D: Break the ice? (THAW) — thawing seems like a completely different phenomenon from breaking, but I guess ice does break up during a spring THAW so ... OK!
- 38D: Blind followers, informally (SHEEPLE) — I thought this was going to be some poker terminology ("blind" is a poker term, right?) (yes). But no, "blind followers" are "those who follow blindly," thus, SHEEPLE. Speaking of people who act like sheep—or vice versa, I guess—looks like I'm going to be seeing The Sheep Detectives this weekend. When I saw the trailer, I was a very hard "no," but friends, and especially this Defector review, have convinced me to push through my extreme reluctance and just go. So I am going to give the talking-sheep movie a try. I do teach a crime fiction course from time to time, so ... maybe it will be relevant. Fingers crossed!
That's all. See you next time.
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