Erik Agard author page

Newer constructors often argue that theme genres I call "tried and true" or "overdone" are fresh to them, so why shouldn't they be viable? They can be, but getting an acceptance from an editor who's seen a hundred of those puzzles makes it tricky. Today's puzzle is a fantastic example of what I mean when I say that if you're going to dip into a familiar well, you need something extra.

Initialisms — phrases whose first letters spell something — are a tough sell. Take SOS. A quick search turned up one from 1994. It gets repeated so often that editors are bound to find it dull after repetition, and regular solvers could be right there with them. Sometimes you can innovate with grid art, but too often, it's the SAME OLD STORY.

Erik's finds — parsing regular words into X.Y.Z.(meal term) — is an innovative extra layer. SERRATIONS into S E R RATIONS is a great discovery, as is CAVEATS into C A V EATS. CAR FARE into C A R FARE isn't as wow-worthy, since FARE remains FARE, but it works. And although BRANDISHES to B R A N DISHES breaks the pattern by using four opening letters, it's well-placed as the final theme entry.

That extra layer would have gotten Erik some consideration, but thinking up well-known(ish) foods that use those initials is the turbo boost that sends this over the threshold. C O N = cup of noodles, S E R = shrimp egg rolls, etc. Maybe baked rigatoni alla Norma is a stretch, but points for creativity.

Some solvers have trouble seeing initialisms, so SHORTENING helps alert them to look more carefully.

All in all, a case study in how to revive a crusty theme genre.

Pikachu, I CHOOSE YOU! I will be mocked for my delight in watching "Pokemon" with my kids, and I choose to ignore their select words muttered at me when I try to teach them all the scientific intricacies of Pokemon evolution. I also choose [Select words?] as the best clue of this puzzle!

CUTAWAY GAG sounded so familiar, yet I couldn't figure out exactly what it meant. Curious that the Goog links it strongly to Family Guy. I always watched the show before I had kids, and I might have to consider returning to it after watching some of these clips. If I had remembered this TV trope, Malaika and Erik's clue would have slayed, but a more definitional clue served this family guy better.

WHITEY ON THE MOON is an interesting central marquee. You'd think that as a diehard engineer and scientist, I'd be gung-ho over space exploration, but it's always felt like a waste of resources. I've had so many discussions over the decades, including some with Jim Horne, none of which have swayed me, even given all the clear technological benefits that space travel has fostered. So I read the lyrics to WHITEY ON THE MOON eagerly, nodding along as I went.

I want my crossword to be pure escapist entertainment. I don't like being reminded that I got singled out and harassed at the grocery store last week by a white checker who thought I was a gang member stealing stuff. Still, I've come to realize that there are many different kinds of solvers out there who want very different things out of their puzzle, including IT'S SERIOUS topics.

As I was researching Billboard Top 100 tunes for a Zynga puzzle idea, I was amazed by MARIAH CAREY's All I Want for Christmas is You. It hit #1 in 2019. Then again in 2020. A third time in 2021? And a fourth consecutive year in 2022?! A song that has that much popularity after nearly three decades is the epitome of staying power.

I didn't recognize SOMEDAY, HERO, HONEY, or FANTASY, but it was fun to watch the videos, and FANTASY's catchy beat was indeed familiar. I can see why critics called it "truly inspiring" and "gorgeously spun."

Those descriptions fit Erik's novel layout equally well. MARIAH CAREY might have vocal range, but Erik's construction range is even wider. So few people would even consider "stair-stacking" three long themers, and almost no one would attempt it. Employing a common themeless pattern into a themed puzzle like this is gorgeously spun, indeed.

I'm glad Erik stuck to crossword symmetry, unlike in his USA Today puzzles. I bet breaking symmetry would have allowed him to clean up THON, but I take so much visual pleasure in symmetry. With only a bit of minor ORO TCU (Texas Christian University) elsewhere, THON is easily ignorable, anyway.

That central stack is so pretty. HERO FOR HIRE is a memorable tagline, HONEY LOCUST evokes all sorts of images, and this sci-fi dork loved FANTASY SAGA. The bottom parts of these entries are flexible, but still, accomplishing such clean fill throughout in a themed 70-word grid is many constructors' FANTASY.

Erik has given me a lot of great book recs over the years, so seeing FANTASY SERIES made me a smile. That clue was equally fantastic, "invented language" making me think of Klingon dictionaries. Qapla'!

The symmetrical entry jumped off the page, too, DREAM SEQUENCE is so evocative. I wish it didn't get such a dictionary definition, though. Specialized or freshly coined terms need this treatment, but for such a common term, I'd have loved to see what these two wordplay superstars could have come up with. Qagh Sopbe'!

I'm not sure why it's rare to have a 16x15 themeless — I'd love to see more variety in layouts. One extra column may seem trifling, but it carries so much potential. Any small variance can help distinguish a themeless from the sea of same-old, same-old layout patterns.

Here, it opens up the possibility for an even number of letters for the middle entry. WISH LIST is pretty good, and that "present perfect indicative" cluing makes for a gleeful unwrapping.

(I hadn't noticed the mini-theme of FANTASY, WISH, DREAM, but that's fun.)

I would have loved a greater quantity of long (8+ letters) entries — that extra column could allow for maybe two extra feature entries. I like that Brooke and Erik took full advantage of their 13 long slots, but pushing that to 15 would have added extra sizzle.

I wasn't familiar with SMOKEY EYE, but it's easy enough to infer. Not as easy to figure out why it's not "smoky eye."

Although this one didn't stand out as much as I hoped, given these two powerhouse constructors teaming up, I loved so many of the clues. I'll never say NO THANK YOU to brilliant reinterpretations. Passwords to "pass words?" … such wonderful wordplay makes me never pass up my Friday themeless solve.

★ GENDER EUPHORIA is a perfect example of how a crossword puzzle can make me love learning something new. Even if you aren't familiar with the phrase, it's still figure-out-able because it's composed of two individual words. And what a joyful, uplifting phrase! It makes me feel such vicarious happiness for folks who ecstatically reach such an important realization.

WHITE GAZE is also two figure-out-able words, but it definitely doesn't scratch the itch that we in the puzzles-as-escape-from-reality camp seek out. I appreciated that the clue didn't make me feel guilty or shamed, though. I'm a huge fan of Toni Morrison's fiction, so I appreciated learning about her discussions on this topic.

Back to joyful and uplifting: Erik's cluing. He has an amazing ability to craft clues that give me a magic moment, when utter confusion flips to delight. Great example: [It's often drawn with three ellipses] ... what ... guh ...? I was baffled, running through what English letter or language constructs could possibly fit.

Slap in the forehead when I realized I should have known it all along!

It's often said that crossword constructors are successful only if they manage to set up their solvers for ultimate victory — a funny thing, to hope that people triumph over you. This is most often expressed in terms of themes and grids, but sometimes themeless constructors lose this concept, writing clues that are too clever or smug. Erik is among my top three clue-writers in the business, bringing me such pleasure while managing to make this dummy feel smart.

I fell into the MONO for LOFI trap, but aside from that one hiccup, I loved piecing together all the wonderful clues and answers ONE STEP AT A TIME.

Great solve? THERE IT IS, all right!

★ It's a rare constructor who can carve out a theme that seems both familiar and fresh. We've had plenty of rhyming themes, repeated words, phrases made of two words only differing by one letter, phrases made of two words differing by two letters, etc., but I couldn't find this exact implementation anywhere. NEVER EVER, THIGH HIGH, HOVER OVER are perfect examples of two-word phrases where the second word is the first word without the starting letter.

And BEARS EARS! Erik has a gift for digging out phrases I would never have thought of. Not only does the BEARS EARS monument look like bear's ears, but the fact that BEARS and EARS don't rhyme makes this so memorable. I also enjoyed the easy exposure to the Navajo name in the clue.

Tight theme, with few other possibilities. All I could turn up was HANDY ANDY, which feels outdated, and one of my favorite ice cream flavors, CHUBBY HUBBY. Shorter ones like SCAT CAT and PALE ALE work, but they're not as interesting.

Nothing HALF ASSed about this grid. Love me some EGG TARTs in dim sum; can't believe I hadn't already added to our XWord Info Word List.

Will Shortz usually frowns at initialisms that aren't known by virtually everyone in the USA (like USA), because if you don't already know the initialism, there's no way to infer it. Electronic benefit transfer is a common term in economics and finance, anyway, and tens of millions of people use EBT at grocery stores.

FORTNITE, self-descriptive LANDBACK, nerdy LIVE LONG and prosper — there's an ENVIABLE amount of great bonus material to enjoy. Along with a simple yet elegant theme, it's such a welcome early-week experience.

★ A perfect Saturday crossword.

72 words is the max allowable for a themeless, so the bar is sky high. Not only do you have to maximize every long slot and use near-zero dabs of crossword glue, but these days, there's another requirement: your short entries can't be boring. Will Shortz gets so many themeless submissions that he can shrug at entries like ERA AREA ARENA. Maybe this seems arbitrary, but it's hard to produce anything interesting for these words now — interesting both for him and for solvers. Caitlin and Erik hit all these marks.

Where this puzzle absolutely dazzles is in clever cluing. Roughly five great ones and I'm impressed, but I tallied nine today. Even better, they came from a wide assortment of categories:

• Question Mark Fun. Clearly, something tricksy is going on with [Undesirable bedmates?]. Doesn't stop the fun of talking about WEEDS in flower beds.
• Innocent Misdirection. Repurposing "blowing off steam" to describe a VOLCANO is Einsteinian.
• Punnery. I'd never think of turning Watergate into "water gait" or linking it to WADE.
• Figure-out-able Trivia. "Four-letter countries" is a common trivia category, and if you remember French colonization in West Africa, TOGO pops out.
• Colloquial. NO SPOILERS is such a zingy phrase. "Wait, wait, don't tell me!" is even better.
• Enticing. Someone with an awesome catchphrase, IT'S HANDLED? Now I can't wait to find out who Olivia Pope is!

On that note, I need to issue an apology to Kameron Austin Collins, as well as other solvers out there who love names in grids. Years ago, I got turned off when OLIVIA POPE caused me to finish with an error. There are many solvers who write to me that they hate names in grids — whether or not they're fairly crossed. I ignorantly assumed that this was the vast majority of solvers. Now I realize there's a segment, notably of younger folks, who strongly disagree.

I still don't love name-heavy grids, preferring pure fun and diversion in my crosswording. And from a results-driven perspective (if that's one of your goals), today's approach finally got me to read up on Olivia Pope — with high interest, at that.

When a name-heavy grid comes up, I try to keep Erik's editorial philosophy in mind: "this one might not be aimed at you, but maybe tomorrow's will be." I'll continue to make mistakes and say ignorant things, but I'll strive to keep listening and learning.

Anyway, I wish I had the skill to make a puzzle half this outstanding. Perhaps my favorite of 2021.

P.S. CONEY refers to the CONEY dog. Megatoad for the win!

Erik's puzzles are always chock full of incredible clues. The telltale question mark made me realize that something was going on with [Pop up a lot, perhaps?]. Even being out of that NEW DAD state for only a few years, it eluded me to the end. Now I'm just "pop up and perpetually tired"!

I also struggled mightily with [Pair of rings?]. Even after filling in TAG TEAMS, I didn't get it. Fantastic a-ha when I realized it referred to a pair (of wrestlers) of (wrestling) rings. The grammar is more than a bit twisted, but it's well worth it.

My favorite, though, was SWEAR JAR's fantastic [A fine way to discourage foul language?]. A+ entry with even more pluses for that clue.

I didn't know FLOW STATE, so it didn't elate me, but it's easy enough to comprehend. Funny that a phrase used in the clue, "in the zone," is so much zingier.

REPARATIONS as a central entry for this African-American constructors' week is a bold choice. I had no idea that a bill about it gets introduced during every Congress. One of my mom's best friends was in the Japanese internment camps and got REPARATIONS back in 1988. What should be done about African-American and Native American reparations ... glad I'm not in Congress.

I enjoyed learning other facts, too. I knew Marcus Garvey and the Back to Africa movement, but I had no idea he wore a helmet with PLUMES.

Neat to get some Islamic touches, too, with both FATIMA and the cluing for FASTS.

A solid puzzle; I appreciated the many Agardian elements.

GRETA THUNBERG, an audacious way to seed a themeless. Her direct manner of speaking to world leaders caused all sorts of debate, some even claiming she was doing more harm than good, her approach furthering the divisions of our fractured political landscape. No matter what you think of her, a Time Person of the Year is crossworthy.

She could spark debate in the crossworld, as well. As much as I admire her efforts to change the world, I don't necessarily want my crossword to be world-changing. I much more appreciate the diversions, the humor, the sparks of joy coming from a clue like [Toy associated with France] — a toy POODLE, that is.

I'd just as soon had the fun-to-say NOT BAD AT ALL headline the puzzle, with GRETA or THUNBERG somewhere else in the grid.

I'd seen a few of the clues before — [Labor leader?] for DOULA, and [Perfect score … or half of one] for TEN — but their wordplay still made me smile. I especially like the latter, with its dual riff on the word "score."

There was enough to enjoy in this grid, some rarely-seen entries like ONE BEDROOM and LEASE TO OWN, along with snazzy JUICE BAR and GAME TIME. GRETA THUNBERG's unfortunate length — 13 letter entries force all sorts of gridding constraints right off the bat — makes it difficult to incorporate a lot of other strong, long material, though.

Still, solid debut. And it was fun to see a few Agardian touches, like his love for the WNBA seen in the clue for Rebecca LOBO.

★ "My Violent Evil Monster Just Scared Us Nuts"? I had M____VI?ES in place — MONSTER MOVIES! No, that's not long enough. MONSTERRRRRR MOVIES, said in a zombie drawl?

Wait. It starts with MN? Clearly, I had something wrong. D'oh! MNEMONIC DEVICES. It's a fantastic entry/clue on so many levels, but best of all, I'll remember the order of planets much more strongly now. I could never remember the usual planets device, My Very Educated Mother … Jubilantly … Spewed Up Nincompoopery?

Apparently, you don't know my mother.

Two more grid-spanning entries to boot? STICKY SITUATIONS is solid, and SO ITS COME TO THIS is wildly amazing. Can't you just visualize someone giving you the stink-eye while wryly grumbling that phrase?

Oh, so you do know my mother.

Themeless constructors rarely start with so many grid-spanning entries because they quickly ossify a grid. You can often use black squares to (sort of) separate the marquee entries, but there will always be regions that lose precious flexibility. I was impressed by what Emily and Eric did in the west region, with ROBOT ARM threaded in so carefully. On the other side, SOLITUDE isn't as snazzy, but it is peaceful. Toss in a GPS UNIT, and I'd call that a success.

As you fix more and more into place, though, rigidity sets in. Once you decide on ROBOT ARM, you're not going to have much choice for something ending in RI. Then, the tops of SO IT COMES and TANDOORI constrain that NW corner. GOES INTO is a fine entry, but it's hardly a marquee 1-Across.

ON GOD felt strange. As with most of Erik's puzzles, I sheepishly go to Twitter and search for that term, as it's usually something the kids say these days. On God, it is!

Maybe.

Overall, the headline entries packed incredible punch, and the supporting material did enough to elevate this product to POW! territory. Well done!

Years ago, Will Shortz cheekily asked me what I thought about titling one of my puzzles "This One Sucks." Today, This One Stinks!

It's not often that I win "Name that Theme" so quickly on a Wednesday. I guessed it with only RANK AMATEURS, easily filling in FILTHY RICH, RIPE OLD AGE, then the DIRTY BIRD dance. Winner winner chicken dinner!

Huh? It's STINKING RICH? Okay, but doesn't FILTHY RICH sound a lot better? I don't care if it doesn't fit into the space. Or the theme. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Yeah, the FUNKY CHICKEN is funnier to say, and more well known than the DIRTY BIRD. And it makes for a beautifully tight theme. Oh, and it fits into the given space. Humph.

Would you buy, thinner winner dirty-bird dinner?

Kidding aside, the theme made itself apparent so quickly that I jumped straight to each long across answer without needing help from the crossing downs — something I do with easy Monday themes. I was victorious!

Oh, right. There were still 144 more squares to fill in.

And boy, did they take time. It's no cinch to complete a big corner like the NW, even when you have RANK AMATEURS already in place. I did appreciate such a wealth of interesting entries — MOROCCO, BUFFALO, USURPED, ITS LATE, TRAPEZE — those are all assets, I'LL SAY.

Some excellent clues, too, like "radio wave" and "main event" hiding STATES, and GARAGES places for an "auto-tune." They did slow me down further, though.

Overall, a delightful theme, not a whiff of malodor. It's perfect that each of the words is a colorful way to say "stinky," and each can be disguised at the beginning of phrases. Definite POW! contender. I experienced a disconnect between the easy theme and the much more challenging fill, though, which kept it from winning.

★ Jim Horne summed up today's wonderful solve perfectly: "They had me at PALM FRONDS." I was so stuck in this corner, unable to figure out if it was fans of Jesus, zealots, fans of Pilates? Nope, manual PALM FROND fans from the Biblical days; so brilliant!

A close second was something "sacrificed at the altar." That's sure laden with imagery of ancient sacrifices to the gods. Talk about Biblical! I laughed upon uncovering the wordplay here, some women "sacrificing" their MAIDEN NAME upon getting married.

Caitlin is a rising star, having recently joined the New Yorker's crack squad of themeless constructors, and Erik perhaps the best clue writer on the planet, so my expectations were already high. Yet, they still wowed me. We get a fun SLEEPYHEAD, the evocative SUCKED FACE, BLACK MAGIC with a wicked [Bad spells clue] that hid the plural. There was about an average number of long slots for a themeless, but they used every single one of them so well.

I wonder how newer themeless solvers feel about clues like [Get out of here!] for ESCAPE ROOM. I hitched when first encountering these directive clues years ago, but now I appreciate them more and more.

The one issue I had was the difficulty level of the lower-left corner, which felt ten times harder than the rest of the puzzle. It's a dirty trick to clue RAH as a crowd roar when every solver will auto-fill in OLE. (Have you ever heard a crowd roar RAH?). Along with barely knowing a thing about "Coco" and being unable to identify AC/DC as the singers of "Rock or Bust," even though I'm a fan of the group, my solve nearly ground to a halt.

Even with that corner, though, the entire solving experience was exactly what I want out of a Friday themeless: a load of great long entries, a ton of witty clues, and an elegantly constructed puzzle. Ticks all the boxes.

So much to enjoy in this themeless! I dropped in HIS AND … HER? — sure, that sounded right … ish — and was delightfully surprised that I was wrong. Mostly, I enjoyed having my assumption checked, but I can use a dose of grammatical slap in the forehead every once in a while.

CRINGEWORTHY is anything but; such a great word. It's not an NYT debut, but it's still sparkly.

ELASTIGIRL! She's not my favorite of the Incredibles—how can you resist Jack-Jack? — but she is indeed incredible, attempting to keep the family together through Mr. Incredible's misguided attempts to regain his glory days.

MICROBLADING … ? I'm sure this will elate some solvers, as it appears to be a popular aesthetic technique. For us monobrow-and-proud-of-it types, at least MICROBLADING is two lexical chunks that are identifiable.

Much clever cluing, although some of it went over my head:

• [Groin pulls?] = LUSTS, this eluded me until Jim Horne explained the brilliance here, in his polite Canadian manner. Think "The Call of the Wild." Still don't get it? The groin region … a yen for said nether parts? I've said too much.
• STUBS are trashed by movie reviewers? Ticket stubs are thrown away by almost all movie goers, not just reviewers, yes? I get the intent, but it didn't quite work.
• Similarly, HALF is [Like 50 U.S. senators]? Accurate, although it's such a tortured way to express HALF.
• [In one ear?] is HEARD … because EAR is inside the word HEARD? Or because the first HALF of "in one ear and out the other" would mean that someone retained the thought?

All in all, a satisfying solve, albeit one that made me feel like the kid in the back of the room, wondering what language the teacher is speaking. (There's a reason why I got kicked out of Chinese school as a youth.) If more clues had been spot-on sizzlers like [Meteor showers?] — that's show-er, as in one who shows — for PLANETARIA, it could have gotten the POW!.

★ A friend of mine once told me stories about his grandmother, an avid MAH JONG player. The world's best poker players and magicians ain't got nothing on her. She'd pick up an individual MAH JONG tile, never turning it over, and with one rub of her thumb on the underside, would know exactly what it was, without looking. Then, with as many as ten tiles left on the table, she'd foretell the winner, already knowing how the game would play out, rattling off exactly what everyone had in their hands.

That's how you earn a nickname like the RED DRAGON!

Erik continues to amaze, coming up with an approach I'd never considered. I'm envious that he nabbed a MAH JONG theme before me, but more so that he found three tiles that could be used in their entirety. I'd considered phrases ending in DOTS, WINDS, BAMBOO, but non-players would barely make the connection that any of those are MAH JONG "suits."

It's so perfect that PLUM BLOSSOM, NORTH WIND, RED DRAGON also evoke East Asian imagery, allowing non-players to easily make the connection to MAH JONG.

Tight theme, too. The only other tile I could think of that might have worked was BAMBOO SHOOT, but that would have confused the issue, since bamboo is not just a bonus tile but one of the suits.

Along with beautiful Monday gridwork — a couple of great bonuses in RHOMBUS, HATHAWAY, SORORITY — and clean short fill that's accessible for even the newbiest of newbs, Erik made my job today a delight. He even summed it up for me, with GOOD FOR YOU, OUTTA SIGHT, and ON A TEAR. Fantastic start to the week!

★ This one brings me back to my days of high school French, attempting to memorize conjugations. I fail to remember. You fail to remember. Um … someone fails to … uh …

"Je ne sais pas" is one of the few phrases I do remember. Needless to say, my AP French exam didn't go well.

Neat to see so many "(pronoun) = (awesome)" phrases. I did wonder why I AM THE GREATEST didn't make the cut, but I imagine it wasn't the greatest for crossword symmetry. THEY'RE ... GRRREAT! is pretty great, anyway.

People will debate whether JEMELE HILL is a Monday-friendly entry. This sports fan didn't know her, so I appreciated that Erik was careful to make every crossing answer gettable. As long as an entry doesn't stand in the way of my victorious solve, I like a bit of learning. I AM THE GREATEST!

(Records of my AP French results say otherwise.)

Some beginning solvers have a ton of trouble figuring out where spaces should go, though, which makes JEMELE HILL even tougher — is it JEM ELEHILL? J.E. MELEHILL? Or a last name, JEMELEHILL?

Some solvers gripe that they detest when my puzzles shove learning at them, when they just wanted ten minutes of pure entertainment. Even if it's only a single entry, it seems to sour their experience, making them feel dumb.

Should crosswords be pure entertainment or a vessel for expanding solvers' horizons? There is no right answer, more a difference in philosophy.

I enjoyed this concept. I would have loved a progression of I, YOU, HE/SHE, WE, THEY (or a subset of those), but that's a minor ding, easily overlooked given the cool discovery of four superlative phrases that followed the same format.

DIA DE LOS MUERTOS! Great feature entry. There's so much lore, artwork, and festivities around the Day of the Dead. When I was young, I was fascinated by my (Buddhist) dad leaving food offerings at the altar for our ancestors, lighting incense candles, rolling odd-shaped dice that would let us know when the ancestors had finished appreciating the delicacies. As compelling as that was, the traditions around DIA DE LOS MUERTOS are a hundredfold greater.

I've enjoyed Wyna's themelesses, previous ones featuring fantastic entries like DARN TOOTIN, WHO WORE IT BETTER, and CRAZY RICH ASIANS. This one was right in line, with sizzlers like ROGER THAT, CHECK PLEASE, CLOSE SHAVES. A lot to love!

There were some that were A BIT STRANGE, though, as with previous puzzles. I score roughly -11.5 on the hipster scale, so A BIT STRANGE definitely MADE IT WEIRD. Are these things the kids say these days?

I also was on the fence about ITS NOT A RACE. [Reprimand to the overly speedy]? This is something police officers say? Or coaches who are playing mind games with their star athletes? Although, I have heard my daughter say something like "we're not racing" to Jake--just before she takes off, taunting him at the finish line, and making him cry.

Good times.

It's hard to tell who's responsible for the spate of awesome clues, Wyna, Erik, or the NYT editing team, so collective credit for:

• [Auto correction] had me fixated on Microsoft's annoying autocorrections that I can't figure how to turn off. Boy, do I sound old. Nope, just an ordinary TUNE-UP.
• [Red states, once] not only misdirects toward our country's political divisions, but I bet I wasn't the only one who put a terminal S into place. I enjoyed getting bamboozled.
• We've seen a lot of MATHLETE(S) lately, but I'll welcome more instances if the clues are as great as [Figureheads?], as in people with heads for figures.

I bet this puzzle resonated better with the younger crowd—or people from Austin, who take pride in keeping things weird. Still, more than enough to make for an above-average Saturday solve.

Yet another Agard-assisted debut! Erik is chasing me in the co-constructions count. Thank goodness that he got a prestigious and time-consuming job as the editor of the USA Today crossword while I sit in my tiny office, doing … things. Important things!

Keeping one's toenails clean is an essential part of personal hygiene.

Some delightful debut entries, the IMPOSSIBLE BURGER tasting surprisingly like meat. I wouldn't call it "impossible" quite yet, but "improbable"? Sure. Also improbable is the fact that I'd pay the extra five bucks at my local burger joint to sub it in.

I loved BEERAMID, too. I figured out that -AMID ending and realized it had to some sort of pyramid. Not many portmanteaus delight me, but this one did.

I wasn't as hot on GLAMPING. It's not as eye-roll-inducing as other portmanteaus like SCREENAGER, but my eyeballs did twitch upward. The combo is … glamor + camping? It's not a word I'd use, not without embarrassment, that is.

It's rare that I love a short debut entry — all too often, new constructors brag about how many debuts they incorporated. I politely point out that introducing a bunch of terrible partials and esoterica is to be avoided. (Read: I yell at them for being stupid. Politely, of course.) NUH-UH gets anything but a nuh-uh from me.

As with most Agard joints, I was too unhip to appreciate a few things. TAKE THE L stymied me when BEQ used it a few months ago, so I (sort of) remembered it today. SET PIECE as an [Action film staple]? I've always thought of this as a stage backdrop. Its first definition is a "self-contained passage of a film, arranged for elaborate effect." Huh!

But also with most AJs, such great clues. Imperfect as a TENSE, SHRINE repurposing "martyr complex" (think of "complex" as in "apartment complex"), "something old, something new" turned on its head for TESTAMENT, even STENOS elevated by playing on "dictator" as "one who dictates a memo." A ton of entertainment throughout.

ADDED NOTE: Erik mentioned that many of the fantastic clues were Miriam's. Well done, Miriam!

I'm hoping Erik still has time to help out newb constructors as his editorship eats up more and more of his focus. Great to see so many new faces added to the NYT mix in such entertaining debuts.

★ Phrases that morph into equally valid new phrases are my jam, so Yacob and Erik had me at BREAKING BAD to BAKING BREAD. What a beautiful discovery!

I have a feeling some solvers won't figure out what's going on, so here's a before and after:

• BREAKING BAD to BAKING BREAD
• IN THE RED to IN THREE-D (think: IN 3-D)
• CREATED to CATERED
• COMPADRE to COMPARED

None of the rest is as strong as BREAKING BAD to BAKING BREAD — it's so neat when there are multiple words involved. IN THREE-D did hit that mark, but spelling THREE out is a crossword-specific … "oddity" would be a generous description.

As I would expect from these two (Yacob giving us a smash hit on this last themeless), such a tasty grid! Constructors often fail when they try to go big — 72 words is in themeless territory — but there was no going home today. Even if you didn't enjoy the theme as much as I did, I'd give each of these entries a check (Will Shortz assigns checks and minuses in his grid-assessing process):

• TEA LEONI
• TAKE SIGN (baseball-specific lingo, but such a neat term)
• NO MERCY
• HUMVEE
• YE GODS (some see it as weird, but it's grown on me over the years)
• CLOSE ONE
• GET IT NOW?

Between TACTILE, ANIMATE, and IMPEDED, I'd toss in another checkmark, taking the total up to 8. That's astounding for a puzzle built around five theme entries.

I'd have loved another stunner like BREAKING BAD to BAKING BREAD, but the four (RE)LOCATIONS worked well enough. It made me want to go search for more. I didn't have time to write the code, but I spent five minutes figuring out how I would do it — I love it when someone gives my brain a challenge. Along with gridwork that greatly enhanced my solving experience, these guys earn another POW! apiece.

I thought "Gangnam Style" was a once-in-a-lifetime blockbuster, but DESPACITO has nearly twice as many views. After listening to it, I can understand why. It's so catchy! (Of the 6+ billion YouTube views, one billion are mine. Thanks a lot, Eric and Wyna!)

By design, Saturday puzzles are the most difficult of the NYT crossweek. How hard is too hard, though? I usually finish the Saturday in about 15 minutes, but today, I finally finished the right half at the 20 minute mark. I hate giving up, so I pushed through, finishing in roughly 40 minutes. That puts it several standard deviations out, in the far tail of my normal distribution.

Appropriately, DESPACITO translates to "slowly."

Why was it so tough? Part of that is on me, as DESPACITO didn't fall until I had most of the squares, and although I've heard of Chamillionaire (fantastic name!), RIDIN rode off into the sunset only after bucking this cowboy off and dragging him by a foot caught in a stirrup.

(Researching RIDIN led me down a rabbit hole to Old Town Road—what other great songs have I missed?)

Another reason was the incredibly tough cluing. Who makes the destination of their vacation an INN? Aren't most INNs akin to motels? ATE DINNER as [Tucked in at night?] … what does that mean? Google shows that "tuck in" can mean "eat." Huh.

I'll get a lot of questions about HALOGEN, too. Chemistry was one of my favorite subjects all the way through college, and I could barely make sense of [I, for one]. No doubt it's a clever attempt at wordplay, but asking even seasoned solvers to make the connection that 1.) I stands for iodine in the periodic table, and 2.) that iodine is one of the HALOGEN elements — that's beyond tough.

Similarly, STREET MAPS tried to play on "miniature blocks," misdirecting to LEGOs. A map as a "holder" felt like an Elastigirl-level stretch, though.

I did enjoy a lot of feature entries, DARN TOOTIN and AMEN TO THAT so fun to say. I wish the puzzle hadn't gone to 11, though, as that took away some of the solving entertainment. I wonder how many experienced Saturday solvers will throw in the towel.

I'd love to see 37-Across on "Wheel of Fortune." After the free letters of RSTLN E:

_ _ _ _ E N _ S _ _ N E E

(contestant mumbling, Tennessee? Fricassee? On bent knee?)

Pat: I'm feeling generous. Let's add in all the vowels.

_ A U _ E N O S A U N E E

(contestant swearing bloody murder)

Pat: Let's toss in the last two letters.

H A U D E N O S A U N E E

Contestant: Can I buy a WTF, Pat?

(Pat shaking his head, tsking)

I've had the privilege of working with Erik on a few things, and I was amazed when he pulled out INIKTIKUT. And of course, I just spelled it wrong. INUKTITUT. Back then, I thought it was awesome! And it's something everyone ought to learn! Reconsidering, I wonder if it alienated some solvers. Not everyone loves forced learning.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, ITS RAINING MEN! So catchy, I can't help but get out of my seat and dance. That's the kind of feature entry that truly sings. Pun fully intended!

For every STILETTO HEELS, there was an ERUCT ATOI, for every TRAVEL MUG, an ETESIAN GSIX (never spelled out in real life). Overall, the very definition of a puzzle that couldn't run on any day but Saturday, the hardest day of the NYT crossweek.

Talk about EYE CANDY! I love mirror symmetry, which so often lends itself to smiley faces made up of black squares. When your crossword is smiling, the whole world smiles with you!

Such a tight theme — four phrases meaning "hot person" involving some food item. I spent five minutes trying to think of another, not coming up with much. "Scooby snack"? "Twinkie"? I was pretty sure kids these days say that last one but reconsidered. Why would anyone delight in being called a spongy puff made of preservatives?

Mirror symmetry isn't just pretty, it can be a constructor's lifesaver. Four and only four possible themers, of lengths 8 8 8 … and 10? Blargh! Thankfully, mirror symmetry works perfectly for a set like this (with a wider grid, to accommodate the 10).

The only knock I had was that the lower half of the puzzle wasn't theme-involved at all. Will Shortz has given me feedback in the past, that the entire grid ought to be themed, not just half of it. Erik could have done that by lowering STUDMUFFIN a few rows (maybe EYE CANDY too).

Interesting rationale why he didn't, though — it allowed him two big corners in the bottom, to fill as he would a themeless puzzle. There are few people better than Erik when it comes to cutting-edge fill, and BOUGIE (shortening of bourgeoisie), LATINX, GAYMER exemplify that. I appreciated that the clue explained LATINX (covering LATINO and LATINA) in a non-preachy way (that didn't assume you should know the term already), referring to its addition to Merriam-Webster.

Along with some great clues — DENTIST as someone with many openings to fill was my favorite — I enjoyed the solve.

Overall, such a tight, interesting theme, and technically strong gridwork. If the theme had covered the entire grid AND Erik had still managed to introduce so much bonus goodness, this would have been in POW! territory. I respect Erik's layout choice, though.

Wonderfully smooth 66-worder! I'm usually quickly aware of a themeless having a low word count; all sorts of compromises popping up to bog me down. I didn't even think to check afterward, since it solved like a squeaky-clean 70-worder. Impressive work for a new constructor. (Not a surprise for an Agard joint, though!)

I'm often wary of themelesses that don't have many long slots since it's hard to squeeze juice out of mid-lengthers and shorter. I understand why Erik and Anne loaded up on the 7-letter entries though — think about how much harder the construction would be if they had shifted the black squares in rows 1-3 to the right. Instead of a 4x7 space in the upper left, you'd have a 4x8, which is maybe an order of magnitude tougher to fill.

Even though there are only ten long slots (of 8+ letters), they're used so well. RUNNERS HIGH is a great phrase, and referencing "rush" in two ways makes it even better. Similarly, SWEAR JAR's clue elevated it, amusingly using comic book-style punctuation.

Even REFERENDA is interesting, what with the non-S pluralization. So much pizzazz out of these ten long entries.

Some of the mid-lengthers were colorful, too, EURASIA, PODCAST, ROLODEX, SIDE BET, in particular. However, entries like ADVANCE, BOTTLES, EMERGES, TESTEES aren't going to win any prizes.

I found this puzzle more of a Saturday experience, mainly due to the cluing. There were so many that totally didn't go over my head (okay, maybe they did). Here are a few:

• "Mare" is the Latin word for "sea," used to describe LUNAR CRATER.
• Helpful word in solving cryptograms is THE? But aren't cryptograms those puzzles with the funny pictures that stand for words … never mind, I'm an idiot. They're the tricksy enigmas where one letter substitutes for another, and the frequent instances of THE in the English language often serves as a toehold to get started.
• PRE-GAME warm-up shots are NBA shoot-arounds … and … taking liquor shots before parties? Snapping pictures? Not sure.
• TRUED refers to "trueing" something, i.e. fixing something that's skewed.

I did get one of them right away! [Mount Sinai people] refers to Mount Sinai Hospital, not the actual mountain. Yes! I like it when a puzzle allows me to feels smarter than it.

Overall, a pleasantly smooth and piquant solve — albeit making me feel sheepishly stupid one too many times.

I was so fooled by [Pittsburgh is its most populous city]. Given that this is supposed to be a hard puzzle, it couldn't be PENNSYLVANIA. Ah! There must be some trick to it, especially given that PENNSYLVANIA is too long. PENNSYL(VAN)IA with a VAN rebus fits perfectly! Now, where's the revealer, MINI VAN?

Drat.

Themeless puzzles often live and die on the quality and quantity of their long answers (8+ letters). It's so tough to make 6- and 7-letter entries stand out and feel fresh since crosswords use many more mid-length entries than longer ones. Seeing only ten long slots in today's grid worried me since themelesses usually have 12 to 16. Thankfully, Mary Lou and Erik used most of the slots well, MASTER BREWER and PRESS RELEASE excellent. PR = press release and public relations, what a neat connection!

PADMA LAKSHMI could be tough for many. I sort of recognized her name but put in PADME. Darn my Star Wars fanboyhood! Good thing MEISTER BREWER wasn't a possible crossing.

Wait. EI REBUS!

Maybe not.

I do wonder about UHURA crossing PADMA, though. Even as a die-hard Trekker, I often confuse UHURA with the Swahili word for peace, UHURU. If someone put in PUDMA LAKSHMI, I'd be sympathetic.

It is possible to excel in the mid-length space — take CALVIN for example. He's only been in the NYT (Shortz era) a few times, and he evokes such nostalgic memories.

You do run the risk of "freshness" in those mid-lengthers being taken as "annoying," though. QUIERO is a debut, but it might feel foreign (see what I did there?). A word I love, KATANAS, could cause alienation as well.

Let me explain two clues some might not get:

• Defaults = EDITS? Think about removing fat as "defat." I know, groan!
• ASS is one of those young people things, as in "big-ass" or "stupid-ass." Sometimes these fresh slang clues make me feel like a dumb-ass, but I can see how millennials would appreciate this sort of thing.

Not my favorite themeless from either of these excellent constructors, but solid enough work.

Here are the foods that can be formed:

• JEANS BEANS
• FLIES FRIES
• GRAPHS GRAPES
• CURRENTS CURRANTS
• STEAL STEAK
• CAMBAGE CABBAGE
• BOOTH BROTH
• POPPER PEPPER
• PASTE PASTA
• VANISH DANISH

Final answer: BREAK BREAD.

I sadly took way too long to figure out this list, and even more sadly, had a couple of errors. Robots eat STEEL! I love me some Pirate's BOOTY. PESTO is as much a thing as PASTA — never mind that it changes two letters, not one I KNEW THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME WISE GUY!

It's so hard creating a grid around a lot of short themers. People tend to think, what's the big deal, aren't ten short themers equivalent to 5 super-long ones? Not even close! The ten shorties force black square placements right off the bat, taking away flexibility. Those pesky black squares can cause all sorts of problems down the road.

I did enjoy the bonuses — GRAMMAR POLICE / PRIMARY DEBATE / PIANO SONATAS make up a brilliant trio (RING THE ALARM not as strong as "sound the alarm") — but there was an average amount of crossword glue. Perfectly passable for anyone else, and things like ABEE ALOG EER ROM are easy enough to figure out. Not as strong as a usual Agard joint, though, speaking to how hard it is to construct around so many short themers.

Fun to see a shout-out to the WNBA, Erik a huge fan. I didn't know LIZ CAMBAGE, but hers is such a useful name for this theme.

Sunday puzzles involving a single hidden meta-answer can be memorable if said meta-answer interrobangs the concept. BREAK BREAD was more of a period or a footnote for me.

ADDED NOTE: Joel Fagliano pointed out that there's an additional meta-layer to this solve, the fact that BREAK can be changed into BREAD by the same one-letter substitution methodology. That's fun!

Tough grid to figure out, with awkward themer lengths. Interesting finds, but of length 10, 8, 9, 9, 7, 7? Bleh! Good thing I happen to enjoy mirror symmetry ...

I did the skeleton work, and Erik and I went back and forth, shifting things around, testing, filling it piece by piece. That we have different tastes should come as no surprise — I loved CLOWN NOSES at 11-D but he wasn't a fan, and when I proposed the IRON DUKE (awesome nickname for Arthur Wellesley, the 1^st Duke of Wellington) I felt his side-eye straight through my dial-up modem.

We were having some issues with the SE, and then Erik magically solved it by incorporating INUKTITUT. My first reaction started with a "what" and ended with "the F is that?" But when I looked it up, I decided I loved it. All educated solvers should learn that word. (Including me.)

Great pleasure working with Erik on this one. And by "working," I mean "sitting back and enjoying being in the presence of jeeus."

Er. Ge-NI-us.

★ I love seeing interesting word findings, and IN THE WAY / IN THEORY is a perfect example. There's something so curious about how different those two phrases are, even though they share so many letters. The parsing shift (changing the spacing) makes it even more distinctive. It's the type of discovery that sets off so many crossword constructors' spidey-sense.

I wonder if this finding came first, or the idea of using two-letter state abbreviations to alter phrases across STATE LINEs came first.

COWGIRL / NEW GIRL, COMPANY CAR / COMPACT CAR, ANYONE / ACT ONE — such a parade of delights! This is the second time in two weeks where I've thought that a weekday puzzle could have been expanded into a Sunday. So much for what I previously said about it being a rare occurrence!

Great gridwork too; not a surprise considering Andy and Erik are two of the best in the biz. (Congrats to Erik for his new job as the editor of the USA Today crossword!) So much goodness in ICE PLANET, FIRST LOOK, ETERNAL, PASTEL, TRACHEA, PATOOTIE. Everywhere you look, there's something else that makes the solving experience even better.

I was of two minds (appropriate for this puzzle!) on MEAN MUGS, though. It's probably another thing that millennials make up so that they can have their own language that excludes us, the hopelessly unhip. At least MEAN and MUGS are words I recognize.

I did also wonder about the BECHDEL / COSA crossing. The BECHDEL test is common knowledge in gender studies, but it's not something I'd expect all educated NYT solvers to know how to spell. Crossing it with a mafia term might be a recipe for leaving certain solvers with negative connotations with the name BECHDEL, and that would be unfortunate.

Those are minor nits, though. It's so rare for me to solve a crossword that's novel enough that I can't immediately recall something at least a little like it. Such a joy when that happens, and even better when the craftsmanship is this good. Easy POW! pick.

The producers of "American Ninja Warrior" have a tough job. Ideally, you want fewer and fewer competitors to make it through each stage, a gradual winnowing until you're left with the final one or two people standing.

Early on, you should knock out some people who don't have great balance. In the middle rounds, you have to ratchet things up, maybe tossing in a salmon ladder.

And you ought to end with an incredibly difficult series of challenges that only the best-trained uber-athletes can complete — a wicked wingnuts to a crazy cliffhanger to a flying bar. If all goes well, a small handful of competitors will make it almost all the way through, and maybe one will even hit the buzzer.

Now that, my friends, makes for dramatic TV.

One thing you want to avoid at all costs: an obstacle that knocks everyone out. No fun to have something impossible! Today's puzzle wasn't quite that, but it was wicked wingnuts that you had to do while on a flying bar, landing on crazy cliffhanger-sized ledges.

I did like several of the feature entries — great stack in IT CHECKS OUT / BETA RELEASE / ALARM SYSTEM. Along with I MET SOMEONE, WRAP PARTY, COMMISH, TRES CHIC is an appropriate description!

So much of it nearly went over my head(bands), though. If you don't know what a "do loop" is (a programming construct designed to iterate until a certain condition is met), the cleverness of a "(hair)do loop" is lost. Similarly with BETA RELEASE and concept of "patches" applied to buggy code.

"Barrier to entry" is common MBA lingo (element that hinders competitors from entering your marketplace). Even if it is something that solvers should at least be familiar with, it's too literal a description for ALARM SYSTEM. Something like [It might ring a bell] would be a better wordplay angle.

Along with SEATO (?), the never-spelled-out-except-in-crosswords GSIX, and the baffling opposite of alt = NEU? (old and new in German), my solving muscles won't be the same for days.

That said, this is the exact type of training that one needs to become a stage 4 solver. A few years ago, I would routinely fail on Thursday salmon ladders, and now I'm finishing punishing Saturday crazy cliffhangers. Mount Midoriyama, I'm coming for you!