Johnny Appleseed Day

<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqU9JPyBHRxJqBc8KB-HL2FgS80LKEve6D-4YTOpIbtQRksbi1m3-3m8_z-x3LafO7dYqiTqyNNIHEmRwwy7GsxbyLMQu-Vyu2z9Pwox-b4-8gXBjbj_rJnixaEuNe3Z7tmXjWR9FfORo/s1600-h/chapman2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5054117910340893010" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqU9JPyBHRxJqBc8KB-HL2FgS80LKEve6D-4YTOpIbtQRksbi1m3-3m8_z-x3LafO7dYqiTqyNNIHEmRwwy7GsxbyLMQu-Vyu2z9Pwox-b4-8gXBjbj_rJnixaEuNe3Z7tmXjWR9FfORo/s320/chapman2.jpg" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" /></a>John Chapman, shown in the photo, is a friend of ours, and a physicist. Everyone calls him just "J" -- you will see why in a little while.<br /><br />J's great-great-great-grandfather Frank Chapman was a seed farmer. He grew seeds and dried them to sell to other farmers to plant and grow crops.<br /><br />Frank was born in Massachusetts. After he grew up, he moved to a new farm in Maryland. Frank had a brother who sometimes came to visit him in Maryland. His brother's name was John Chapman, just like our friend.<br /><br />The brothers Frank and John Chapman lived a long time ago, when the American land was being turned into farms called homesteads. Farmers wanted to plant good things on their new farms. One of these good things was apple trees. John Chapman sometimes got apple seeds from his brother Frank's seed farm. He planted apple seeds on his own farms, and sold young trees to these homesteaders.<br /><br />You can probably guess what everyone called John Chapman? He was known as Johnny Appleseed. The J. Chapman we know calls him Great-great-uncle John. The stories about Johnny Appleseed start on the frontier in the year 1797. (He lived from 1774 to 1847.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1o8AZwZGlUwZVVzKnQ2qm_jfbMdbiFHl1tNvyoAhio47ZJMGfcZ3jx8uSjKocgz5XEvVP_eLgDvQ5HNUmdhQj-8cHmnY0EmL8I1_m91Y4X9IWbSbb5-xbVrKwPZMHH0vEmHAdGpB20E/s1600-h/johnny.appleseed.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5054117906045925698" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1o8AZwZGlUwZVVzKnQ2qm_jfbMdbiFHl1tNvyoAhio47ZJMGfcZ3jx8uSjKocgz5XEvVP_eLgDvQ5HNUmdhQj-8cHmnY0EmL8I1_m91Y4X9IWbSbb5-xbVrKwPZMHH0vEmHAdGpB20E/s320/johnny.appleseed.jpg" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" /></a>During Johnny Appleseed's life, a lot of people were moving west from places like Maryland and Massachusetts. Frank's family moved west too. They kept on working as seed farmers, selling lots of kinds of seeds so that other farmers could plant crops. Our friend J's great-grandfather -- Johnny Appleseed's nephew -- lived in Indiana. He was also a seed farmer and also named Frank. Sometimes Johnny Appleseed came to see his nephew in Indiana.<br /><br />When Johnny Appleseed was an old man, he came to see the Chapman family for the last time. A year later, Johnny Appleseed died in Ohio.<br /><br />Many of the stories about Johnny Appleseed are true: throughout his life he traveled around, planting apple seeds, growing little trees, and selling the little apple trees to homesteading farmers. Johnny Appleseed didn't live in just one place, and he liked to wear old clothes. He made money, but he seems to have given it to people that needed it. He helped a lot of people. If he visited a farmer, sometimes he planted some apple trees or some seeds to say thank you for a good breakfast or dinner and a place to sleep. He also knew a lot of Indians who lived on the frontier, and he was their friend too.<br /><br />Our friend J says that the oldest son in his family is always named John. Johnny Appleseed was the oldest son in his family -- his brother Frank and his many other brothers were younger. J's father and his son are also named John. So you see why he is called J -- that way he knows when people are talking to him, not to one of the other men and boys named John. But his real name is exactly the same as Johnny Appleseed. They are both named John Chapman.<br /><br />March 11, the date Johnny Appleseed died, is celebrated as Johnny Appleseed Day. I posted this information a few years ago on my children's story blog, so it's a simple story. If you want a complicated version, see Michael Pollan's book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Botany-Desire-Plants-Eye-View-World/dp/0375760393/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1267999540&sr=8-1"> The Botany of Desire: A Plant's-Eye View of the World</a>.

Johnny Appleseed Day

John Chapman, shown in the photo, is a friend of ours, and a physicist. Everyone calls him just "J" -- you will see why in a littl...

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Even Weirder

<ul><li> Bruschetta </li><li>Gnocchi</li><li>Gyro </li><li>Huitlacoche </li><li>Pouilly-Fuisse </li><li>Mole</li><li>Paczki </li><li>Pho </li><li>Prosciutto </li><li>Sake</li></ul>These are the "top-ten mispronounced foodie words" according to an article linked by my friend Jens. <a href="http://leisureblogs.chicagotribune.com/thestew/2010/02/top-10-at-10-mispronounced-foodie-words.html">The pronunciation is here.</a> I always mispronounce gnocchi and bruschetta, but I'm ok with Pouilly-Fuisse. And I learned about paczki from actual Detroit Polish people, so I had no idea about how it was spelled, and didn't recognize it when I first saw it written. And Gourmet Sleuth says "Huitlacoche [wee-tlah-KOH-cheh] (also spelled cuitlacoche) is a fungus which grows naturally on ears of corn (Ustilago maydis)."

Even Weirder

Bruschetta Gnocchi Gyro Huitlacoche Pouilly-Fuisse Mole Paczki Pho Prosciutto Sake These are the "top-ten mispronounced foodie words...

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Annals of the Weird: A Cookbook

<blockquote style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">“I will start with meats, fish, eggs, soups and sauces, sandwiches, vegetables, the art of French frying, desserts, how to dress game, how to properly sharpen a knife, how to make wines and beer, how to make French soap and also what to do in case of hydrogen or cobalt bomb attack, keeping as much in alphabetical order as possible.” </blockquote>So begins George Leonard Herter’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Bull Cook and Authentic Historical Recipes and Practices,</span><span> published in 1960</span>. In a 2008 review, "<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/07/books/review/Collins-t.html?_r=1">The Oddball Know-It-All</a>," <span style="font-style: italic;">NY Times</span> writer Paul Collins includes this quote and characterizes Herter's cookbook as "one of the greatest oddball masterpieces in this or any other language."<br /><br />I learned of <span style="font-style: italic;">Bull Cook</span> and its highly weird author <a href="http://neglectedbooks.com/?p=323" rel="bookmark" title="Permanent Link: Bull Cook and Authentic Historical Recipes and Practices, by George Leonard Herter and Berthe E. Herter"> in this post</a> at <a href="http://www.neglectedbooks.com/">The Neglected Books Blog</a>. The blog author has plenty of comments about his reaction to Herter; for example, "I know I for one am relieved that <i>someone</i> finally thought to include nuclear attack survival tips just after the recipes for Prunes Maxim’s and 'How to Make Puff Paste or Flaky Pastry Dough.'"<br /><br />I'm not at all sure that I need to look up this loony volume, but I definitely wanted to share my new awareness of its existence.

Annals of the Weird: A Cookbook

“I will start with meats, fish, eggs, soups and sauces, sandwiches, vegetables, the art of French frying, desserts, how to dress game, how ...

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Waldorf Salad Day

<span id="ctl00_masterpage_content_article_detail_article_detail_content_lab">Louise tipped me off with her <a href="http://monthsofediblecelebrations.blogspot.com/2010/03/march-food-celebrations-week-two.html">usual list</a> of great and small events in food history. Today's event: </span><span id="ctl00_masterpage_content_article_detail_article_detail_content_lab">“Oscar at the Waldorf”</span><span id="ctl00_masterpage_content_article_detail_article_detail_content_lab"> invented Waldorf salad </span><span id="ctl00_masterpage_content_article_detail_article_detail_content_lab">on March 8, 1893. This familiar salad is </span><span id="ctl00_masterpage_content_article_detail_article_detail_content_lab">made from apples, celery, walnuts or pecans, </span><span id="ctl00_masterpage_content_article_detail_article_detail_content_lab">lemon juice, </span><span id="ctl00_masterpage_content_article_detail_article_detail_content_lab">mayonnaise, and in some versions, lettuce, grapes, raisins, or maraschino cherries. It was definitely a classic of my childhood, and I remember that it tastes better with tarter apples than with the mealy sweet kind such as the ubiquitous Delicious Apples.<br /><br />If I have all or most of the ingredients on hand I still make Waldorf Salad. It's a very likable and forgiving classic. Sometimes I use dried cherries, which obviously date from the late 20th century so they couldn't be authentic to Oscar's version. Sometimes I skip the celery. My major variation is to add bite-sized pieces of cooked chicken breast to the salad, making it into a main course. Not bad at all. Good use for leftovers.<br /><br />And what about the Waldorf Hotel? I've never been there, but their website says "</span>The Waldorf stands as a unique dining destination, with four distinctive restaurants, three lounges, and of course, 24-hour room service." So it's not just a memory, not just recalled by the Muppets Statler and Waldorf!<br /><span id="ctl00_masterpage_content_article_detail_article_detail_content_lab"><br />Inspired by Louise, I might post other memories associated with food anniversaries this month, just for fun.<br /></span>

Waldorf Salad Day

Louise tipped me off with her usual list of great and small events in food history. Today's event: “Oscar at the Waldorf” invented Wa...

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Goodbye Florida

<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig1dShvNrnW7MFVe3lbVh4oMIXn4OCYrOETc-w1w2Ufe3cEACr1JsoKvPUUidi_T06xODoOZvolaiRKgF0LgZYERXyBIvQ2uwm9MEqux0q3OShhDoIjHMyupvPos5Oy4N6wkRSb20mxpRH/s1600-h/jean&jack1633.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445229217254890850" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig1dShvNrnW7MFVe3lbVh4oMIXn4OCYrOETc-w1w2Ufe3cEACr1JsoKvPUUidi_T06xODoOZvolaiRKgF0LgZYERXyBIvQ2uwm9MEqux0q3OShhDoIjHMyupvPos5Oy4N6wkRSb20mxpRH/s400/jean&jack1633.jpg" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>White Ibis behind Jean & Jack's condo<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7H8Uqe5mfACZpqcCkSqEVma6eSOu4axGRuvxOvUoZwwMC1rx4i9sjaFGmm3xllLS1KXbJwdldTmKORlTXKzrPKjETS9Flg565x76kKyG42246i0g13A8bdQOsJYwb3wvHOESJhP3zWSax/s1600-h/beach1646.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445227564699552050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7H8Uqe5mfACZpqcCkSqEVma6eSOu4axGRuvxOvUoZwwMC1rx4i9sjaFGmm3xllLS1KXbJwdldTmKORlTXKzrPKjETS9Flg565x76kKyG42246i0g13A8bdQOsJYwb3wvHOESJhP3zWSax/s400/beach1646.jpg" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" /></a>Yesterday we went to another wildlife refuge -- disappointing because the birds were only sporadic instead of crowding all over like they do in the Everglades. We took a walk on the beach, where the waves were pretty gentle considering how windy it has been. A few gulls and terns acted as if we were part of the scenery, letting us come up almost next to them. All in all, the birds have made a remarkable adjustment to the fact that their habitat is now much occupied by gated communities of humans.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNWcu4OD30PbYfuey17hDI3M4COCpiQHr62PgvIuwURl4OrPrtYkROTCNFMzIS3YREBVb02LefoBrxGQ0YUA-m7p5NORUPrsaEQwOyr-jOTWOrUAYk6w9BNEXnaoOe3sf0B1b41MuxlSN1/s1600-h/beach1659.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445227559345710658" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNWcu4OD30PbYfuey17hDI3M4COCpiQHr62PgvIuwURl4OrPrtYkROTCNFMzIS3YREBVb02LefoBrxGQ0YUA-m7p5NORUPrsaEQwOyr-jOTWOrUAYk6w9BNEXnaoOe3sf0B1b41MuxlSN1/s400/beach1659.jpg" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfD4-weIwAdwEdm3IXGitZCICtKMtg8vgDMJweHoYnps7keUzsemHNsmWO3FOxAxUujWirnGAyj0YFieCkZYEoHUX90XugPK47SW5K_Z0q1GgIDgT4DqJMcJ1838NVv70didzCdAeDImRd/s1600-h/jean&jack1671.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445227556962400162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfD4-weIwAdwEdm3IXGitZCICtKMtg8vgDMJweHoYnps7keUzsemHNsmWO3FOxAxUujWirnGAyj0YFieCkZYEoHUX90XugPK47SW5K_Z0q1GgIDgT4DqJMcJ1838NVv70didzCdAeDImRd/s400/jean&jack1671.jpg" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>Here are Jean and Jack at Snapper's Restaurant where we all had fish and shellfish.<br /><br />Our farewell meal at the airport whose wireless I'm now using was unspeakably bad. Dirty tables. Slow service with the usual long airport wait for the food to be prepared. Stale salad. Well, what do you expect. It's been a nice trip and the sendoff is hardly unexpected.

Goodbye Florida

White Ibis behind Jean & Jack's condo Yesterday we went to another wildlife refuge -- disappointing because the birds were only spor...

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The Kitchen at the Morikami Museum

<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUNH_AN_Vod7aptOblp1_kR-alMxIQVCIIHgZMycVhqMLLWfSIlYZ-QKiDmsplYyk1-SHwEYN8U-TKu-Z-BOsluEhQ7C1U5m_ntk0sVotW114rHw_o19U6Tp4RL6N1OTFPzWnlTDPNhTI/s1600-h/morikami1608.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444588277665244482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUNH_AN_Vod7aptOblp1_kR-alMxIQVCIIHgZMycVhqMLLWfSIlYZ-QKiDmsplYyk1-SHwEYN8U-TKu-Z-BOsluEhQ7C1U5m_ntk0sVotW114rHw_o19U6Tp4RL6N1OTFPzWnlTDPNhTI/s400/morikami1608.jpg" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>The museum displays change from time to time. Today there were several rooms from a typical Japanese house, such as this kitchen. Note that visitors are told to open the refrigerator and cupboard doors to see (behind plastic shields) the contents that might be present in a Japanese house.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArbWfuNfPepBPda2aoclB56zdvmTnckfUNfJTzq6Dvu92V3bpOMXvA2thFyuBriYZTYInjbVWa2N7mYYzzRBol6VoxPNqW-GRQ7vCR6-uHudYh2yhPSr-mTaiZjPiLqIsG2hngDyXkc8h/s1600-h/morikami1609.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444592188846511858" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArbWfuNfPepBPda2aoclB56zdvmTnckfUNfJTzq6Dvu92V3bpOMXvA2thFyuBriYZTYInjbVWa2N7mYYzzRBol6VoxPNqW-GRQ7vCR6-uHudYh2yhPSr-mTaiZjPiLqIsG2hngDyXkc8h/s200/morikami1609.jpg" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" /></a><br />For more photos of this museum see <a href="http://maetravels.blogspot.com/2010/03/morikami-gardens.html">The Morikami Gardens</a>.

The Kitchen at the Morikami Museum

The museum displays change from time to time. Today there were several rooms from a typical Japanese house, such as this kitchen. Note that ...

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The Norton Museum

<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWiKmIi6zk2T0TlSuF8D8eq4O2KoG385Vwx-47thVIk8unKpdPlM197ANfwesflanNUIRvVrVtdjuS8fLLT9ryNAofoMzJztA_Yyu66sHQVb0LGrhHnCGYVuJKPaOcj7_9zGKRa03YV8g/s1600-h/norton1491.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444586076831796898" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWiKmIi6zk2T0TlSuF8D8eq4O2KoG385Vwx-47thVIk8unKpdPlM197ANfwesflanNUIRvVrVtdjuS8fLLT9ryNAofoMzJztA_Yyu66sHQVb0LGrhHnCGYVuJKPaOcj7_9zGKRa03YV8g/s320/norton1491.jpg" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 194px;" /></a>Mervin Jules: "Dog Wagon" (1940)<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipAMZobJPnJKVmSguWOm58Jdknop3ByRCG-VdQfp0yW0YCtpY7HM_sqw2uIJ3qcSTwOJ3Bzr-CXB4VYJ8k8WO1Aa66XWjW0ki2B9Pns_KsrLAMWnRsv75pouTCL3cv8oScuhCocMPb5YmO/s1600-h/norton1489.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444583470544420082" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipAMZobJPnJKVmSguWOm58Jdknop3ByRCG-VdQfp0yW0YCtpY7HM_sqw2uIJ3qcSTwOJ3Bzr-CXB4VYJ8k8WO1Aa66XWjW0ki2B9Pns_KsrLAMWnRsv75pouTCL3cv8oScuhCocMPb5YmO/s400/norton1489.jpg" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 313px;" /></a>Wayne Thiebaud, "Neapolitan Pie"<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK87NSrIiicrxzXkrvFPjBJgi5_sMjL6vmSTs5yG0zHByydq8z-U-CIcT8PdmdG6NuPZt_p2ygsTn8aDn4-owHQ1xIilqIMfNXEAqZLJye6QtkAGs0DdXy6qhLV5u0gdbtxtOVAj0JfQgF/s1600-h/norton1508.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444583462978549330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK87NSrIiicrxzXkrvFPjBJgi5_sMjL6vmSTs5yG0zHByydq8z-U-CIcT8PdmdG6NuPZt_p2ygsTn8aDn4-owHQ1xIilqIMfNXEAqZLJye6QtkAGs0DdXy6qhLV5u0gdbtxtOVAj0JfQgF/s400/norton1508.jpg" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 351px;" /></a>Ming Dynasty: Tomb furnishings for the dead to eat<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58VdVi9p1LqrdAy9YFwUiQFqUOrLSczev_GVLIk4U7lG_kDwwtVxmYKAO8qdJqw_jSyQYjvmpcWn5JVT4yp_appDjqB28DkZgk1aE3pjdl1i8vkSnxoy7jv7AugT56lIzuwcseVXX8Ci2/s1600-h/norton1523.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444583454538212562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58VdVi9p1LqrdAy9YFwUiQFqUOrLSczev_GVLIk4U7lG_kDwwtVxmYKAO8qdJqw_jSyQYjvmpcWn5JVT4yp_appDjqB28DkZgk1aE3pjdl1i8vkSnxoy7jv7AugT56lIzuwcseVXX8Ci2/s400/norton1523.jpg" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>Quing Dynasty: Bit of a carved lacquer screen<br />Note teapot!<br /><br /></div>We spent a couple of hours yesterday at the excellent Norton museum in Palm Beach. The Chinese collection included many beautiful jade, lapis, and quartz vessels, ancient bronzes, Han Dynasty and other horses, and porcelain representing all the colors. The Impressionist collection was small but remarkably representative of most of the painters. The 19th and 20th century American collections were delightful. What a wonderful surprise! I selected the above works because of the food themes. Needless to say, most of the works were not food-themed!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZj1eqgA1VhKpKBWyvCSTIr2Xk_EH-K5El4uQE8LwkKbbMV-yQIYxW3cIv8Hypw4FAJ8j9fSMxx-HdesTTuZCqGvabWXluJTzTz58Q2fhoTlXkB3KamQuD2IVKzD1V1Q_cofLQlDHAxo4/s1600-h/grkveal1524.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444584951736429218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZj1eqgA1VhKpKBWyvCSTIr2Xk_EH-K5El4uQE8LwkKbbMV-yQIYxW3cIv8Hypw4FAJ8j9fSMxx-HdesTTuZCqGvabWXluJTzTz58Q2fhoTlXkB3KamQuD2IVKzD1V1Q_cofLQlDHAxo4/s200/grkveal1524.jpg" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" /></a>AND of course, dinner, which we ate at a Greek restaurant with Jean, Jack, and their friends Barbara and Jerry.

The Norton Museum

Mervin Jules: "Dog Wagon" (1940) Wayne Thiebaud, "Neapolitan Pie" Ming Dynasty: Tomb furnishings for the dead to eat Qui...

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