Mideast yogurt dip eaten with pita / SAT 5-30-26 / Perpetual homebody? / Flying ___ (train between Mumbai and Surat) / Color effect of a lunar eclipse / Gathering with grills and grilles / Music recording space, informally / Mutual aid event that originated in 1920s Harlem / What's represented by a jiggled thumbs-up, in sign language / Part of a cabinet that's made overseas / Movie trailer narrator's first words, often / Rodent that lives in South American marshes

Constructor: Malaika Handa and Erik Agard

Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium

THEME: none 

Word of the Day: BREAD AND ROSES (32A: Old political slogan of the women's suffrage and labor movements) —

"Bread and Roses" is a political slogan associated with women's suffrage and the labor movement, as well as an associated poem and song. It originated in a speech given by American women's suffrage activist Helen Todd; a line in that speech about "bread for all, and roses too" inspired the title of the poem "Bread and Roses" by James Oppenheim. The poem was first published in The American Magazine in December 1911, with the attribution line "'Bread for all, and Roses, too'—a slogan of the women in the West." The poem has been translated into other languages and has been set to music by at least three composers.

The phrase is commonly associated with the textile strike in Lawrence, Massachusetts, between January and March 1912, now often referred to as the "Bread and Roses strike." The slogan pairing bread and roses, appealing for both fair wages and dignified working conditions, found resonance as transcending the "sometimes tedious struggles for marginal economic advances" in the "light of labor struggles as based on striving for dignity and respect", as American sociologist and activist Robert J. S. Ross wrote in 2013. (wikipedia)

• • •

A perfect Friday puzzle. Didn't get here til Saturday, but that's fine. It had enough bite to feel not completely out of place on a Saturday, and it was so entertaining that I didn't care what day of the week it was, frankly. I loved this one despite its being absolutely jam-packed with names, a thing that can be irritating and off-puttingly exclusionary in a puzzle. There are seven (7!) people in this puzzle. That's a lot of people for a puzzle. I don't know what the norm is, but seven seems high. But here's the thing: however you felt about those names, they were all short (5 and under) and they were all crossed very fairly. The only one I out-and-out didn't know was Jessie REYEZ (27D: Singer Jessie with the hit 2020 album "Before Love Came to Kill Us"). I can't believe anyone remembers anything that happened in 2020 (besides ... you know). The others either appear in the puzzle with reasonable frequency (CHU, NAST, ANN) or are famous enough in their fields that I managed to pick up their names (the MYERS-Briggs test is famous, BOWEN Yang has a podcast that Instagram keeps showing me clips of, and LYDIA Ko is a New Zealander, and, as someone who is married to a New Zealander, I tend to notice and think about New Zealand things more than most people Americans, probably—I've long thought that LYDIAKO's full name would look amazing in the grid). So I definitely noticed the names, and the puzzle felt a little like a crowded party, crowded in a way that usually makes me want to head for the door; but today, the longer, marquee stuff shines so bright that I didn't care about all the people. I just wanted to bounce from room to room and bask in its glow.

[17A: Movie trailer narrator's first words, often]

Also, this party had food! Like, a lot of food! Before I'd even circulated very much, I'd had SESAME OIL on NAAN and some LABNEH (which I managed to spell correctly on the first try, [fist pump]!) (20D: Mideast yogurt dip eaten with pita), and then I chased it all down with a couple of PROTEIN SHAKES, which was kind of gross, but, you know, culinarily creative. After that, cleanse the palate with a little BREAD (AND ROSES ... were the roses edible? I hope so. Too late to ask that now), and then a full DINNER (something out of the OVEN BAGS, whatever those are), and then, to round the evening off, you could choose between SCOTCH and PROSECCO. Nice. Oh, and the TINS of popcorn, forgot about them. Thought they were BINS at first, but the puzzle corrected me (53D: Popcorn holders). Overall, an enjoyable eating experience. Probably wouldn't voluntarily drink the PROTEIN SHAKES again, but the rest of it, mwah, delicious. In addition to the people and the food, there were beautiful word installations. Creamy stacks in the NW and SE, crunch colonnades in the NE and SW. I was genuinely sad to hear "PLAYTIME'S OVER!" because I was having such a good time. This grid is polished in ways that so many these days are not. Whatever common / crosswordy stuff you find is small and marginal. Scattered. Inconsequential. This means I can whoosh around the grid without wincing (my preferred way of whooshing: winceless). IN A WORLD overrun by awkward abbreviations and word parts and laugh syllables and archaic phrases no one actually says, this puzzle comes along and it feeds and it entertains, with a great sense of play and humor. I had fun. Turns out this is all I really Really want from a puzzle. SWAMP RAT! Now I remember! That's what was in the OVEN BAGS (it's an acquired taste, I'll admit, but don't knock it etc.).

Puzzle felt easyish from the start despite my muffing not one but two answers in the NW (I had us riding on the Flying RUPEE (2D: Flying ___ (train between Mumbai and Surat) (RANEE)), and I thought the warning sign said DO NOT ENTER (3D: DO NOT ___ (ERASE))). After that, no real missteps, except when I tried to spell the Japanese island HONCHU (60A: Osaka's land) and ended up with someone named AUNT C at 42D: High-ranking women in "The Handmaid's Tale" (AUNTS). I always forget the word DEMUR exists, mainly because I never quite know what it means and (therefore) would never use it myself. It has killed me more than a few times when I'm playing Quordle or Octordle—even when I have most of the letters, I can never make anything out of them until suddenly (if I'm lucky) I remember that the word DEMUR exists (50A: Express misgivings). I think one of the things that confuses me about DEMUR is its near-identical cousin, DEMURE. That's an adjective, and that one, I know. 

Bullets:

• 1A: Man's name that, like Otto, is also an Italian number (TRE) — I guess TRE was at the party too. Left his name off the guest list. Sorry, TRE. This was a great clue. Had me running through my Italian numbers real awkwardly (the only way I can run through Italian numbers, since I don't speak Italian and know the numbers only from crosswords). The coffee place I go to nearly every day, the one where I buy all my beans (because the roaster really knows his craft), is called Otto (the Italian number, not the man's name).
• 29A: "French" or "sliced" haircut (BOB) — got this off the "B"; otherwise, no clue. "French or sliced?" sounds like something someone would ask you at the sandwich counter.
• 57A: Gathering with grills and grilles (TAILGATE) — nice clue. Grills (barbecue) and grilles (front ends of automobiles). 

• 12D: Semi professional? (TEAMSTER) — made me laugh. Professional semi (truck) drivers are TEAMSTERs.
• 28D: Like Cheerios vis-à-vis Lucky Charms, say (OATIER) — this also made me laugh. I'm gonna need to see some data here. What oatiness metric are we using here? Is it just the addition of marshmallows that make Lucky Charms (pound for pound) less oaty? Because the non-marshmallow part of Lucky Charms consists of (I'm told) "shaped pulverized oat" (wikipedia). Lucky Charms is just Doing More. OATIER sounds like something out of Cheerios PR. I can see how they'd prefer that term to BORINGER. 
• 45D: Perpetual homebody? (SNAIL) — just a great clue. Smiled when I figured it out. (the SNAIL of course carries its "home" (shell) around with it at all times)
• 59A: Part of a cabinet that's made overseas (MINISTER) — if you live overseas, this one might've been confusing. The president's "cabinet" in the U.S. is made of "Secretaries" (no MINISTERs) but overseas (UK, India, maybe elsewhere?) you get Cabinet MINISTERs.
• 31A: Music recording space, informally (STU) — again, I laughed. Mainly at how dumb this sounds. I was like "'recording space' ... do they mean like the studio ... oh, noooo is it STU!?!?!" LOL, yes. At least the clue is original. Not just another [Disco ___] or [Poker great ___ Ungar].
• 32D: Color effect of a lunar eclipse (BLOOD MOON) — a great answer—the anchor of a really terrific corner. The PRUDISH PROSECCO BLOOD MOON! ICONIC! Best observed while sipping SCOTCH in HONCHU (helps if you're RICH). Not sure what more you can ask from a Saturday corner. Just lovely.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on BlueSky and Facebook and Letterboxd]
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