It's summer and while to some summer means a short break from the NBA, to others summer means baseball and baseball means it's time to prepare the old stomach for true ballpark fare. I recently told a friend from L.A. that I had secured bleacher seats (it's harder than it sounds) for a Sunday afternoon Cubs game at the friendly confines of Chicago's Wrigley Field, when she began prattling on about how one could get sushi and sashimi at Dodger Stadium. Sushi and Sashimi? It sounded almost unseemly. I decided to see what was going on in my home-field concession stands.

At the bottom of an uneventful 4th inning, I left my friends in the bleachers and headed into the damp grey underbelly of Wrigley Field. The first person I met was a beer-seller named Maurice Green, "A-train" to friends. He had Bud and Old Style on tap, but I was surprised to see a large selection of imported bottled beers also graced his stand. A-train said the fans really like the fancy brews (for $4.00 a pop, why drink Old Style?). The Red Stripe, he said, makes 'em cry out for mother Jamaica. I must admit I was a bit dismayed, and with lurid visions of Salade Nicoise in a cardboard box, I descended toward the first floor concourse. On my way down the endless ramps, slippery with beer and peanut shells, I met a food supervisor named Rita. Her Farrah- Fawcett-flip, half-smoked cigarette, and black satin White Sox jacket reassured me that our lovely stadium was not going to succumb to the sort of identity crisis that had clearly afflicted the Wolfgang-puck-ettes out in L.A. However, Rita was less than reassuring. She said that Wrigley Field was working hard to satisfy consumer demands, and that they had revised their menus to meet increasingly sophisticated and multi-ethnic tastes. "We now have an Italian Market, a Mexican Village, Diamondís Grill, and the Bullpen Barbecue. There are even mixed drinks." She invited me to look over the menus and have a tour of the different sites. Our first stop was the Italian Market, marked by a quaint wooden sign. The menu posted above the stand read something like:

If you scanned carefully you would have noted that the pizza and Italian Sausage make this place a virtual Tuscany. Our next stop was Diamond's Grill, featuring such items as:

then the little Mexican Village:

and finally Bullpen Barbecue:

I had nothing to fear. Everywhere the food workers were decked out in Cubs caps and uniform shirts. The fans were in hot-dog heaven, and the adults were having extra fun at the condiment stand where you not only get to shmear on the mustard and relish, but also to smother your dog in onions -- hand cranked from the fabled onion machine. Turn this handle here, and chopped onions spill onto your Polish there. Incredible.

Now, I know I sound like a curmudgeon, wailing for such heart-stoppers as Polish Sausage with grilled onions, but we baseball fans are nostalgic by nature. You fair-weather fans in your fair weather stadiums, peppered with advertisements, rock'n'roll music, and outfield TV, help yourself to chicken fajitas and grilled red snapper. For me, I'll stick with Old Style and Cracker Jacks.