A COOL, KOSHER KIND OF MORNING

This morning my husband and I had brunch with some old friends from New York who happen to be Orthodox Jews.  We have cherished their friendship for many years, but don't see them as often as we would like.

When our kids were small, we invited them over to our house for a cookout.  It was a challenge because of their dietary requirements.  According to Jewish law, only certain foods are fit for consumption.  (The word kosher means fit or proper.)

Because dairy products cannot be eaten with meat or fowl, completely separate cooking pans and utensils should be used for each.  A utensil or pan that has previously been used to prepare non-kosher food is not allowed.  So, I bought a new paring knife.

With the help of paper plates, plastic cutlery, and disposable cooking pans, the cookout was a delight.  We had juicy kosher hotdogs cooked on a little grill they brought.  Our paper plates were piled high with potato chips, vegetarian baked beans, and fruit salad.

This time it was just as festive, but simpler.  We met at Eli's, one of the few kosher restaurants in the Washington, D. C. area.

 It was wonderful to catch up on our lives, share what our kids were doing, and brag about our assorted grandchildren.

I must admit, the Challah French toast and eggs were terrific.

Sitting down with old friends, no matter what the cuisine, is always an experience to be treasured.

Shalom uvracha!

THE DAY I TURNED DOWN A WHOOPIE PIE

Long ago, when I was young and nubile, I lived in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.  A regular portion of the little bit of money I had was frequently spent at one of the town's wonderful farmers' markets.

My favorite Pennsylvania Dutch treat found at these markets was whoopie pies.  These "pies" consist of a decadent, creamy filling sandwiched between two fat, soft cookies.  According to legend, the name comes from a typically joyous response expressed by one who discovers this delicious Amish treat in their lunch box—"WHOOPIE!"

Last Saturday, although now less young and nubile, I once again found myself visiting Lancaster's Central Market.  It holds the title of the "oldest continuously operating farmer's market in the country."

Farm-fresh dairy products, meats, and fruits are offered in abundance here.

Could that be the "Goats' Hall of Fame?"

And, of course, there are the whoopie pies.  Well, did I buy one, two, or three?

 None.

 I need to get into my skinny jeans by summer when I embark on my daring (for me) trip down the Oregon Trail.  Whoopie pies aren't an option right now. (More on the Oregon Trail story in a much later blog.) Anyway, I did a little investigating on Central Market's website to see what healthy, yet exotic offerings were to be had at this palace of the whoopie pie.

This is what I ended up with.

I know it's hard to believe that I got excited about celery and horseradish.  But I did.  The CocoPops were impulsively purchased as I made my virtuous way out of the market.

Why I bought SweetHearts Celery of Lancaster County—  
They "use a special Pennsylvania Dutch blanching technique to ripen celery to maximum flavor."
It's quite simply the best celery I've ever eaten.

Many thanks to "Phil, the celery man."

Why I bought Long's Horseradish— 

The horseradish plant with its 3,000-year-old history intrigues me.  It certainly clears your sinuses, and adds a major kick to any food, healthy or otherwise.  When I read that Long's has been in business since 1901 and that their Central Market horseradish is guaranteed to have been grated within 48 hours of purchase, I had to buy some. 

 I was disappointed to find Long's booth empty (on Saturdays).  But was gratified that I could purchase some of the hot stuff at S. Clyde Weaver, located down the aisle from Long's.

And, finally . . . why, oh why, the CocoPops?
First, there was the sign.

Then, there was the drama.

the CocoPop machine

The pressure rises and POP!  A newborn, fragrant crisp arrives.  Don't ask me how.
They taste good.  And, who can resist their healthy stats?

Well, there you have it.  Later, back at my Lancaster hotel room, did I regret passing up those whoopie pies?

One can always compensate . . .

THE INVASION

Our house has been overtaken . . .

Scarlett's upstairs toy basket

Scarlett's downstairs toy basket

These are my Airedale terrier Scarlett's upstairs and downstairs toys.  I counted them.  My dog has FORTY-SEVEN toys.  I'm not guilty.  Many of them were given to her by our neighbors and friends.  The toys don't stay in their baskets.  We trip over them.  My two-year-old grandson can't understand why they aren't his.  He plays with them anyway, even though they are covered in dried dog slobber.  Scarlett is a delightful dog, but . . .

I think there needs to be a moratorium on her toys. At least, for a little while.  It's a new dawn for Scarlett and the rest of us who live in HER house.

A VISIT TO THE NATIONAL CRYPTOLOGIC MUSEUM

Yesterday I visited the National Cryptologic Museum.  Wow, what an interesting place!  The museum is adjacent to and affiliated with the National Security Agency Headquarters in Ft. Mead, Maryland.

Here's Rene Stein, the museum's librarian.  She was most helpful to me during my research on my Lincoln/telegraph book.  Rene, who has worked at the museum for four years and is extremely knowledgeable on all things cryptologic, graciously took my husband and me on an amazing tour of the museum.

Rene gave me an easy to understand definition of Cryptology—it is the technology of MAKING and BREAKING codes.

The museum houses thousands of artifacts dating from the eighteenth century to the present.  Exhibits that explain Cryptology's history and "how they did it" are featured in this building that, if you can believe it, was once a motel!

Many of Cryptology's American pioneers and heroes are honored here.  I've always been fascinated by the contributions of the Native American Code Talkers.  These courageous men served in both World War I and II.  They transmitted secret tactical messages (many times under fire) using codes based on their native languages.

Here's the official uniform of the Navajo Code Talker during World War II.  It was sacred to them.

Red cap denotes the U. S. Marine Corps.

Jewelry represents the Navajo People.

Gold shirt represents corn pollen.

Patch represents which of the six U. S. Marine divisions each code talker was assigned.

A thrill for me was being able to operate a working Enigma Machine—the German cipher machine that they thought was invincible.  But, of course, it wasn't.  The Polish Intelligence Agency analysts initially broke Enigma's code during the 1930s.  The Allies continued to do so with varying degrees of success throughout World War II.  Rene said that this is the only museum that offers a "hands-on" Enigma experience.

Various cipher machines were displayed.  One was quite heart-rending.  This is the KG-46 Space Encryptor recovered from the wreckage of the Space Shuttle, Challenger.  On January 8, 1986, the United States Space program suffered a major tragedy when a booster engine failed, causing the Challenger to break apart 73 seconds after launch.  Seven crew members perished.

This next exhibit aptly illustrates an inappropriate use of schoolchildren.  Something was not right in Moscow in 1946!

Here's a replica of the Great Seal of the United States.

Open it up, and a hidden microphone is revealed.

Gotcha!

There were so many interesting things to see and ponder in the National Cryptologic Museum.  The museum charges nothing for this wonderful tour, which takes about 1 ½ hours, if you schedule ahead. 

Not to mention the great free handouts that were provided for adults and aspiring young cryptologists.  Here are a few that I brought home.