Open Wide, September 10th

The first time I picked up a tennis racket I was five. And I loved it. I played every year in summer camp, all four years on my high school team and was even voted Captain my senior year thankyouverymuch. I have dabbled throughout my corporate life at various outings and impromptu pickup games. I was never a ranked player or a star, but I could hold my own. I am, however still a lover and an admirer of the sport. I remember the Andre Agassi days and John McEnroe yelling on Center Court at every venue worldwide. I’ve seen Nadal play and Capriati, too. Anyway, although I haven’t kept up with tennis so closely since the Williams sisters’ recent descent, it’s always a thrill to catch the 7 train to Flushing Meadows and attend the US Open in person.

This year, I decided to forgo the train and be a bit more adult about it to avoid the throngs of rowdy subway fans. Instead I did the civilized thing (or so I thought) and took an Uber. The ride was comfortable but torturously long and stupidly expensive. The Mets were playing that night as well so there was complete gridlock all throughout the back roads of Queens. When we finally exited the vehicle, it had to be a solid mile to the entry line. Which I actually didn’t mind. The weather was perfect for getting in some extra steps and I was happy to be vertical.

The US Open is run like a well oiled machine. They anticipate thousands of fans. They employ tons of security. The signage is well placed. There are plenty of bathrooms. They know how to do the day to evening changeover. The food and drink lines are all long but they move at a steady clip. It’s basically organized chaos. Upon finding the end of the entry line, we estimated a good hour before we hit the turnstyles to enter the actual grounds. And much to our delight it was nine minutes. Incredible.

Going to The Open is definitely a treat. The tennis is of course amazing, the hometown New York crowd is always animated, opinionated and loud, it’s a celeb spotting circus (we saw Anna Wintour and James Corden on the fan cam!), and the on site shops are filled with must have tennis collectibles, sportswear, and garb. But along with the tennis hype, food definitely shares the spotlight. So I went this year with an open mind and open mouth ready to try a whole bunch of great treats.

Weaving our way through the crowd we were determined to grab a bite or two before the evening matches began. But the snacks this year for me were disappointing. We hit the food court known in tennisland as Food Village– definitely a place I thought I could live! But upon our arrival we refused to order the $100 COQODAQ Golden Set: 24 Karat six-piece chicken nuggets with Petrossian caviar, crème fraîche, and chives. The order came with only six little chicken bites and c’mon. It was a no. Our tablemates enjoyed the huge bowl of Shrimp Scampi Pasta from PastaRamen, but I didn’t think inhaling a big bowl of carby garlic was a good start to sitting in crowded stands for a few hours. (They seemed to enjoy it though.)

Instead we hit the Carnagie Deli outpost and shared an edible pastrami sando and a mediocre hot dog. Yawn. The meat was overcooked and grey and the hot dog was fine– fighting words for a foodie like me.

Undefeated, I did, however, share a special scoop of Van Leeuwen’s Honeycomb Fudge Slam, a sweet cream ice cream with crunchy honeycomb candy pieces and rich fudge swirls and an added tennis ball garnish.

Nonplussed about the food experience after all the rave reviews I had read and heard, we marched right over to the obnoxiously long Honey Deuce line determined to regain our advantage. And this drink did not disappoint. In fact, we loved it. I’m so not a big drinker and I have to say this had to be the best beverage I’ve consumed in years!

The Honey Deuce is Grey Goose Vodka mixed with lemonade that comes right out of the tap. This is poured into keepsake tumblers filled with ice. The barkeeps then add a few splashes of Chambord– a drink made from red and black raspberries, blackberries, cognac, vanilla, citrus peel and honey. This whole blend is then topped by a speared trio of hand scooped honeydew melon balls that perch precariously across the mouth of the glass. It’s a US Open tradition to have one but this year inspired fans were drinking them by the dozen and walking around with empty stacked glasses to prove their consumption. Odd yes, but very New York– overt competitive consumption at it’s best!

We finally made our way to our seats and even though we were in the nose bleeds, we had a clear view behind the baseline and the acoustics were perfect. We heard every grunt and ball bounce. How cool that in the first round we watched both Sabalenka and Alcaraz win? (Both individuals eventually went on to capture the trophies in the final matches– and this year we can seriously say that we knew them when. Ha.)

Going to the US Open is a welcome summertime tradition for many New Yorkers and visitors alike. This year although Uber was an epic expense and the food was questionable for me, the fans were motivating, the drinks were unmatched, the weather was spectacular and the tennis was incredible. Overall I’d say it was a win win. And I’m happy to drink to that.