The Annapolis mall is for sale again. Maybe we should buy it.

The Annapolis mall is for sale again. I’m thinking about buying it.

So, as you should any time you consider a billion-dollar real estate transaction, I ate a Korean corndog.

This requires a bit of explanation.

The Wall Street Journal reported last week that the owner of Westfield Annapolis – undoubtedly, they consider themselves the owner of the Westfield Malls portfolio – announced they’re getting out of the United States after the pandemic accelerated shifts in how people shop.

Unibail-Rodamco bought Westfield malls from its Australian owners for nearly $16 billion four years ago and now has that sick feeling you get when you eat something that wasn’t what you expected. Don’t worry. I’ll get back to that corndog later.

This sale is about more than that. It involved corporate intrigue in Paris, a band of rebel investors led by the wonderfully named Jean-Marie Tritant and supported by the less wonderfully-named CALPERS – the California Public Employees Retirement System.

There’s lots of news coverage on this. The Los Angeles Times and Forbes wrote about it, too. Just Google it.

For our purposes, though, it’s enough to know that the saga reached a turning point when Tritant, now the post-revolution chief executive of Unibail-Rodamco-Westfield, told investors that all 24 U.S. malls will be sold off by 2023.

No questions answered. Merde.

Of all those properties marked by the big red W, there’s just one that matters to us. If you live in Annapolis, it’s The Mall or maybe the Annapolis Mall. Officially, it’s Westfield Annapolis.

When I read about this, I wondered who's going to buy all these malls? This fight was about whether mall retail has a future in the United States as more people buy their stuff online. Sales at Westfield Malls were off 29% last year.

Because that’s what the mall was always about, stuff. Buy stuff, check out the new stuff, be seen with your stuff and eat some stuff while doing all that other stuff.

In the 1980s, mall culture was a symbol of material wealth, both celebrated and ridiculed. “Going to the mall” was a catch-phrase so ubiquitous we didn’t even realize it was code for a particular time in our culture.

The Annapolis Mall – bought and sold, matured and renovated – was a successful incarnation of this zeitgeist. I remember reading financial analysis on bond sales based on the mall's value. I find that stuff interesting. So, sue me. All those Moody's and Fitch reports were clear, Annapolis has been a very profitable mall.

Even when a glitzier mall opened up in Hanover 22 years ago, the Annapolis Mall retained its appeal. Brands came and went – Garfinckels, Hecht’s, Montgomery Ward’s, Neiman Marcus, Lord & Taylor and Sears – but the vibe never changed.

Bright. Affluent. Interesting. Pleasant. Sanitized.

There are a couple of ways the sale of the Annapolis Mall could go. Another mall owner, say Simon Property Group, could snap it up whole because they're bullish on malls. Or, other companies might pick off pieces to complement their own holdings in places where malls still matter.

I suppose some billionaire could buy the Annapolis Mall, but the value is probably in the group or at least part of it. There are 14 Westfield malls in California, compared to three in Maryland.

But who buys a mall these days? The Frenchies are getting out because they believe U.S. consumers have abandoned them. Westfield Annapolis has two major anchor spots vacant and cut up a third into a “fashion boutique” zone of smaller stores.

I’ve listened to the chin-scratching philosophizing on what happens when people quit the malls. Cut them up into multi-family homes with smaller retail? How about office space? Pave the parking lot and put up a paradise?

This is happening across the country wherever once vibrant malls are now ghost towns. Close to home, you see it focused on Marley Station in Glen Burnie and the Security Square in Baltimore.

Could this be the future of Westfield Annapolis?

I have no idea.

I don’t go to the mall much anymore. I’m not the mall’s target demographic. My kids are grown and I have more stuff than I need. Retail has never been my therapy.

So, I decided to take a tour to see whether it still has value. You know, kicking the tires before pretending to buy it.

I wanted to see what’s up, what’s happening. Is Annapolis Mall something I would buy if I had a billion dollars – which I do not.

And I ate that Korean corndog.

Walking through one of the many entrances, I noticed the old Johnny Rocket’s space is still vacant, and Red Robin has packed up, too – proving there can be too much hamburger in America.

The food court is brighter, redecorated recently in vaguely nautical colors and details – think hawsers and blocks. Light pours in from skylights.

I walked up the main hall, checking out stores and kiosks. Did you know dogs are allowed in the mall? Well, at least the little pup I saw in a pink harness was.

“We’re pet friendly,” the two young women at one store entrance told the owners.

Kiosks in the main hall are more interactive now. You no longer have to ask to hear the sales pitch.

“Would you like to try….” one salesman said, reaching out a sample of something with a pleasant scent.

“No thanks,” I interrupted and walked on.

"Are you sure?" he said, swiveling at the hips with his arm outstretched and a sample in his hand.

A few steps out of his range, another kiosk guy spotted me.

“Would you like to?”

“Nope, no thanks.”

The most notable kiosk was close to the mall center, Pelotons inside a glass and metal hut. I wasn’t sure if the man pedaling away on the famous exercise bike was riding for team sell or team buy. Given the recent decline of the brand, he looked like he was going nowhere.

The fountain in the middle of the mall was being repaired when I walked by, and sure enough, the guy in the water sported a classic plumber's crack. Eh, it happens.

Remember that time the staff at Lush, the beauty products store in the mall, wore nothing but black aprons as part of an education campaign on the harmful environmental consequences of plastic packaging? This wasn’t that.

But Lush is still there, just in a different space away from the center. Lots of stores have moved it turns out.

Some things haven’t changed.

There’s still an inexplicable cluster of small jewelry shops at one end of the square surrounding that fountain.

The Apple Store had the biggest crowd on this day, all belly up to the Genius Bar for service and support that my cut-rate Android never gets.

The mall still smells like a mall and it's that way on purpose.

There's a heady mixture of aromas and odors. It’s a combination of perfumes and lotions, pizza and Auntie Anne’s Pretzels plus the intriguing musk of new shoes and shirts.

Most stores have their own, special scent. Free People, a clothing store for the "Bohemian" woman, describes it as a "warm, spicy gourmand blend, with layers of woody Palo Santo, sweet notes of Vanilla Absolute and spicy Clove grounded in rich earthy Patchouli and fresh Black Pepper. "

To walk through this and all the mall smells is to stroll through a cloud of combined commercial appeal, the subtle funk of money.

The mall sounds the same, too. Something about its architectonics, maybe how the hallways are shaped or the stone and wood trim combine, homogenizes the noise flowing off a big crowd and converts it to a soundscape.

Just like the smell, it's not an accident. Mall companies work hard on their “acoustic space,” aiming for an effect that keeps you happy and spending money within their walls.

Conversations next to you aren’t as annoying as they should be, and echoes of children playing in the Westfield PlaySpace are muted from screeches to a nice background note of innocent joy. Recorded music from different stores waves out from the entrances, tempting but not overwhelming.

There are new things. The mall’s second major hallway is now populated with businesses and spaces for public use. The library has a branch there, as does the SPCA. There’s a practice space for Live Arts Maryland, the choral group.

There are commercial public spaces, a computer gaming center available for parties or individual play, has replaced the arcade. A gym caters to the buffed-up descendants of mall walkers who used to lap the interior corridors before opening time. There’s a taekwondo studio.

The Container Store, which caused a buzz when it opened last year, is so full of containers that it looks barely big enough to contain them. I don’t know why that surprised me.

There’s a whole store dedicated to pool tables, and you can register your car near the vitamin shop.

All those store names that are gone? They've been replaced by names like Zara, a Spanish clothier that seems three blocks long, and Intimissimi, an Italian-owned seller of women's underwear. There are more stores selling clothes for women than anything else, but there are other things if you look.

Of the thousands of people with me at the mall on Friday, some had shopping bags and others did not. People do a lot of everyday purchases from their homes now. The Amazon, UPS and Postal Service traffic jam in my neighborhood many days is proof.

So, Annapolis Mall has shifted its identity in hopes of avoiding the fate of Marley or Security. The folks who run it want people coming to the mall for the things they can't get online – and experience is at the heart of that appeal.

There are things you only buy at the mall, though accidental shopping certainly happens on your visit to the library, the gym, or the taekwondo studio – or while getting something to eat.

That is another thing about a mall, food. My walk around Annapolis Mall took me past some familiar menus.

I’m glad California Pizza Kitchen is still going. You have to root for a company that’s emerged from bankruptcy with an expansion plan while still kicking out a mean tricolore salad pizza.

But how is Sbarro’s still a thing? It smells so good, yet the taste is so unremarkable.

I ended my mall tour back in the food court for a late lunch. It’s a tough place for the entrepreneurs who occupy the space. Tastes come and go.

Five Guys Burgers and Fries is still there, proof that there’s always room for hamburger in America no matter what that vacancy just outside the door says.

Two fried chicken empires with Southern roots are represented, KFC and Popeye’s. A third may be opening soon, Raising Caine’s out of Baton Rouge has filed for a building permit at the mall.

And, that brings me back to my Korean corndog.

All of the places in the Food Court were familiar kinds of food, and most had a line as I finished my mall walk – except for CrunCheese. Even the guy in black-and-white stripes from FootLocker passed it by.

So, I walked up and looked at the menu and just picked one.

According to Bon Appetite, these corndogs have been popular street food in South Korea since the 1980s, but the version spreading across the U.S. comes from a particular restaurant in Busan about six years ago.

They’re not necessarily franks. They can be rice cakes, fish cakes, or mozzarella cheese coated in a batter and deep-fried. You can get them covered in panko bread crumbs, french fry pieces – which look really odd – or ramen.

I watched as the cook plucked the mozzarella on a stick from his prep tray, using a color code to get the right one, rolled it in the batter and popped it in the deep fryer.

I didn’t know when I ordered that I wouldn't be getting a hot dog. I didn’t know until much later that some locations offer a squid ink version, or I would have asked about it.

Here’s how the conversation went when the second guy running the place brought my All Mozz to the counter.

“Would you like sauce with that?” he said.

“What kind of sauce is best?” I asked.

“Sugar, mustard and ketchup”

“Sugar?”

“Sugar.”

“OK.”

And so, I watched faintly horrified as he rolled my corndog that wasn't a corndog in sugar, artistically painted on the mustard and ketchup and proudly handed it over in a paper serving tray.

The result was all contrast: sweet and salty, crunchy and creamy. The crust was perfect, even if the sugar made me think of mozzarella sticks and cornflakes – with mustard and ketchup.

I noticed the guys behind the CrunCheese counter were watching me. I tried not to notice that no one else was coming to their shop.

Would I recommend it? Yes, mostly because you probably haven’t had anything like this before. You can make up your own mind if you want a second.

And what about the mall? Would I buy it if I had a spare billion or so laying around?

Yes. Because I don’t think it’s done yet.

The Annapolis Mall has constantly redefined itself since it joined Montgomery Ward on the site of the old WB&A Railroad Bestgate Station in 1980. It’s not ready to be carved up and redeveloped, although that day could still come. But not today.

The mall might not be a place I want to shop or even eat every day.

But I do like Caine’s chicken fingers, and if it comes to the mall sometime soon, I’ll head there for it.

I might go check out the pool tables while I'm there, and my wife can't believe she hasn't visited The Container Store yet.

And I’m still curious about that squid ink corndog.

Rick Hutzell is a nationally recognized journalist. He lives in Annapolis. Contact him at meanwhileannapolis@gmail.com.