Bill

F-SHARP or [G-flat]? (Which could almost be a theme entry, come to think of it.) Well, Bach preferred F-sharp, probably because he was really thinking of F major, and just sticking a sharp in front of every note. But the moody, melancholy romantics preferred G-flat--a trend which started with Schubert: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VM7LFeDwKiM&list=RDVM7LFeDwKiM&start_radio=1" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VM7LFeDwKiM&list=RDVM7LFeDwKiM&start_radio=1</a> Except when they didn't: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TDGHR4lj3yc&list=RDTDGHR4lj3yc&start_radio=1" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TDGHR4lj3yc&list=RDTDGHR4lj3yc&start_radio=1</a> TRUE STORY: This afternoon, biking home after work, I rode through Detroit's Eastern (farmer's) Market. I was hoping to find some rhubarb. It was raining--not drizzling, raining. I was soaked. Between two of the stalls was a young musician, seated at an electric piano, which he had carefully wrapped up in blankets to protect it from the rain. He was playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, from memory. Quite well. I went up and spoke to him: "You know, every day I do the New York Time crossword puzzle, and yesterday, one long entry worked out to MOONLIGHT SONATA." "Really?" he replied, "how was it clued?" "Really a deep dive, in my opinion--clued as 'piece which was the inspiration for Chopin's Fantasie-Impromptu,' or something like that." "You mean this?" and immediately launched into the opening licks of the Chopin. I stuffed his tip jar. But none of the vendors had any rhubarb left.

So nice to see some of the lesser known Marx brothers represented: Chico, Creepo, Stiletto, Catcondo, and especially, L'mao. 1981 was a good year: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZt64_XOflk" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZt64_XOflk</a>

Strangely, A MAN A PLAN A HOSTILE TAKEOVER didn't fit. (Going out on a flag-pole here.)

Ananagraphia (n.): The inability to see or appreciate anagrams. :-(

1A--I don't know this, move on 1D--I don't know this, move on 15A--I don't know this, move on 2D--too vague, move on 3D--too vague, move on 4D--finally a song I know! But who sang it? I can hear the lead singer's voice in my head!* Not the Cure, the Kinks won't fit . . . 20A--theme entry, move on 23A--Ani DiFranco, you're only three letters long, but I love you!!! *really wished 27D had worked out to OCASIK

For all them who confuse Manet and Monet--you're in good company: an insomniac Ogden Nash did as well: "Oft in the stilly night, When the mind is fumbling fuzzily, I brood about how little I know, And know that little so muzzily. Ere slumber’s chains have bound me, I think it would suit me nicely If I knew one-tenth of the little I know But knew that tenth precisely. O Delius, Sibelius, And What’s-his-name Aurelius, O Manet, 0 Monet, Mrs. Siddons, and the Cid. I know each name Has an oriflamme of fame. I’m sure they all did something, But I can’t think what they did. . . . . . . Gently my eyelids close; I’d rather be good than clever; And I’d rather have my facts all wrong Than have no facts whatever." (1947--Full poem: <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1947/06/21/who-did-which-or-who-indeed" target="_blank">https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1947/06/21/who-did-which-or-who-indeed</a>)

I've gotten as far as 35D, and won't get a chance to complete the puzzle until after work, but I wanted to share this bit of doggerel by Morris Bishop: MUSEUM THOUGHTS Portrait of a Lady (c. 75 A.D.) Julia to the barber went And got herself a permanent. Since the perm was unsurpassed, "Fine!" she said. "But will it last?" (I approximate the sense Of "Estne vere permanens?") Then the vehement coiffeur, Warmly reassuring her, Guaranteed with confidence The permanence of permanents. Rome is gone and all her pride, Still the dainty curls abide; Venus, Mars, and Jove are dead, Still remains the lovely head. Let a thousand years go by, Let our gods and empires die, Time will never set a term To the life of Julia's perm. Mundo semper erit gratus Iste capitis ornatus. A good morning to all my fellow Wordplayers.

Musée des Beaux Arts By W. H. Auden December 1938 About suffering they were never wrong, The Old Masters: how well they understood Its human position; how it takes place While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting For the miraculous birth, there always must be Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating On a pond at the edge of the wood: They never forgot That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse Scratches its innocent behind on a tree. In Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

As a former Cleveland, I wholly approve of the MLB team's name change. It was a great day for the city when they sent Chief Wahoo back down to the minors, and changed the name of the MLB team to the Guardians. The name was chosen to honor, and logos designed to reflect, the Guardians of Traffic, eight monumental Art Deco sculptures that decorate the pylons at either end of the Hope Memorial Bridge in Cleveland. Each Guardian protectively cradles a different mode of transportation against his bared bosom: hay wagon, stagecoach, automobile, truck, etc. Designed by architect Frank Walker and sculptor Henry Hering, and built in 1932, the Hope Memorial Bridge spans the Cuyahoga River and has its eastern terminus near the (MLB) Guardians' home Progressive Field. Formerly, and more functionally, named the Lorain-Carnegie Bridge, in 1983 the bridge was renamed to honor Harry Hope, father of Comedian Bob a local stone-mason who worked on the bridge; and, presumably, the tribute was meant to extend to all the other construction workers as well. But they didn't have famous sons. For those with an eye for bizarre detail, the areolas on the sculptures' chests are designed to resemble little wheels. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hope_Memorial_Bridge#/media/File:Guardian_of_Traffic_(cropped).jpg" target="_blank">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hope_Memorial_Bridge#/media/File:Guardian_of_Traffic_(cropped).jpg</a> *** If, like netizen Magali Fabre, you can handle both frets and reeds (and sing), here's what you can do. Even the Chairman couldn't do better: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCDHg0FohSc" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCDHg0FohSc</a>

I'm so incredibly dense! How did I miss that FUSION and FISSION were in the same puzzle! Especially as I tried to fit FUSION into 26D, despite having already entered in at 3D! Let's face, the development of Cold Fusion is *our only hope* for the future of our energy needs. OTOH, I can't hear "fusion and fission" without thinking: "The Hydrogen Dog and the Cobalt Cat side by side in the armory sat. Nobody thought about fusion or fission, Everyone spoke of their peacetime mission. Till somebody came and opened the door. There they were, in a neutron fog, The Codrogen Cat and the Hybalt Dog; They mushroomed up with a terrible roar– And Nobody Never was there — Nomore." (Frederick Winsor, 1958)

For all those complaining about 50A: The correct spelling is [*bruh₃], from the Indo-European root for "dude," using the conventional notation for the third, o-colored laryngeal. In the scholarly linguistic community, there is some argument on the realized pronunciation of the initial asterisk, at least by paleolithic fratboys.

A little story: One snowy afternoon, a couple winters ago, my Partner and I were sitting in the living room of our place Up North--I was reading a novel, he was reading news on his i-pad. "Here's a story--Margaret Atwood responds to her novels being included on a list of books banned in Florida County Public Schools." (She was flattered.) "What else was on the list?" "*Beloved*, by Toni Morrison, *Fun Home* by Alison Bechdel . . . yadda yadda . . ., and *Snow Falling on Cedars* by Stephen Guterson." I raised the book I had in my hand. "Why was it banned, did they say?" "Profanity and sexual content." "Yeah, right." A beautiful novel, I may whole-heartedly recommend. (I have not seen the movie.) And we've only just seen the beginning. Great puzzle today.

Katherine did not share her husband Wilbur's zeal for French painters of the early 20th century. On a recent trip to Chicago, the couple made a visit to the Art Institute. Walking in, Wilbur exclaimed: "Kay! Seurat! Seurat!" To which she replied: "Whatever, Wilbie."

Yes, the Erie were known as the "Cat People." Why? Theories abound--perhaps the bobcat was a totemic animal, or their fierceness in warfare was like unto wildcats, or on account of the raccoon tails they sported on their chapeaux; or perhaps they liked David Bowie*; or . . . Unfortunately, we can't ask the Erie, who were extirpated in the mid17th c. in a genocidal war against the Iroquois. (We imagine the First Nation peoples as all living in harmony with the environment, and each other, when the truth was anything but; and first-contact Europeans were often embroiled into conflicts which had been simmering for centuries.) On old maps of Nouvelle France, Lake Erie is sometimes named Lac du Chat, and the archipelago at the western end--Kelleys and the Bass Islands in Ohio, and Pelee in Ontario--were known as the Îles aux Serpents, from the numerous watersnakes that lived there. Like the Erie, the watersnakes were almost extirpated, down to an estimated population of 1500 in 1999, but through protection, their numbers have increased to 12M+. Bobcats, like most apex predators, have never been numerous, but their population seems to be stable. *<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1O4iZOt23Q&list=RDi1O4iZOt23Q&start_radio=1" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1O4iZOt23Q&list=RDi1O4iZOt23Q&start_radio=1</a>

I'm not to post this as a reply to any particular comment, because I don't want to single anyone out, but-- --it always amazes me the number of people who come on to the Wordplay comments to complain about entries like "ABSOFST"; I assume they have not completed the puzzle--maybe only just started it--and haven't picked up the gimmick yet; that's fine, but still, they would have to have clicked on the "read about today's puzzle on Wordplay" link, and then again on "read comments," to post their complaint, without ever having "read about today's puzzle"! I mean, that's a lot of effort, just to maintain one's ignorance. Poor Caitlyn:-( (et aliae). I could copy this comment, and repost in on virtually every Sunday, and many Thursdays, changing only the details.

Is rue a shrub? It's been a long time since I grew any in my garden, but I would have described it as an herb--by which I mean its manner of growth, not culinary use. Wikipedia, however, describes it as a "subshrub"--low-growing, basically herbaceous, but woody at the base. "Subshrub"! What a word! Has it ever appeared in the crossword, RiA? If you don't like "subshrub," you can use the Greek "chamaephyte," or the Latin "suffrutex". I would love it if the "rut" in "suffrutex" came from "Ruta," the Latin word for rue, but, alas, it's a false friend, deriving instead from "sub-frutex," "frutex" being the latin word for, well, shrub. I never regret a day I learn a new word.

I am not a lesbian. I am a middle-aged gay man, who on more than one occasion has asked my middle-aged gay Partner "Who goes to gay bars anymore? and why?" Certainly not for the sybaritic reasons I did in 80's-90's, since--like the giving of gift cards--such transactions can be more efficiently handled over the internet. Back in those days, when I was coming up (and out), back in my hometown of Cleveland OH, there were two lesbian bars--Five Cent Decision (later renamed The Nickel), which didn't welcome men; and another, a dance club on W 6th St., which did--it was known to have some of the best dance music in town, and was the go-to place on Tuesday nights, back when clubs had "nights". Alas, I can't remember its name; and try finding *that* on the internet! I suppose as long as there are women with a zeal for appletinis, as well as other women, there will be lesbian bars, but they are becoming fewer and fewer in number: somewhere between 25-30 nationwide by some reckonings, but I suppose that depends on how you define the term. Does the presence of two lesbians at the same time, out on a friend-date, qualify it as a lesbian bar? Some resources: <a href="https://parade.com/living/lesbian-bars" target="_blank">https://parade.com/living/lesbian-bars</a> <a href="https://www.lesbianbarproject.com" target="_blank">https://www.lesbianbarproject.com</a>/ Well, composing this post sure elicited some autumnal WARM FUZZIES!

Chef's tip: for really elegant tea sandwiches, CRISS-CROSS CRESS On the other had, the economical cook will toss whatever's at hand into their polenta: MISH-MASH MUSH When. let's face it, you're really, really old, but still up on the music of today: HIP-HOP HEP. And, (OK, this is quite a stretch, but I like the image), my samoyed is good at 80's arcade games, because she's a DIG-DUG DOG,

Yes indeedy, "MOOT" is a contranym, or sorta: it can either mean "debatable" (the meaning that twee prescriptivists insist is the only correct one), or "not worthy of debate," which is the one that is more common for us North American dopes. The latter comes from a practice of law students of having "moot courts"--i.e. practice courts, in which the students would debate cases, the outcomes of which would have no legal or practical force. Also, the second meaning of "moot" dates back to at least 1830, so if we're dopes, we've been dopes for quite some time. Anyhoo, both these meanings come from an archaic noun "moot", which meant "meeting, assembly" (comparable to an archaic use of "thing," to mean much the same; or to "diet"--wouldn't it be great if called it the "Diet of Davos" [although there was only one worm in attendance.]) Tolkien lovers will recognize this in his coinage of "Entmoot." But here's my fun discovery for the day! The OED list another, probably unrelated, dialectical meaning of "moot," for a "stump of a tree." Now, Tolkien really couldn't do humor at all, but he was good at coming up with clever twists on language, and I wouldn't be surprised if he had this second meaning in mind as well when he coined with "entmoot." *** I really don't "get" "he/they," other than they are both (nominative) pronouns.

To all those who tried SIN City, I just went back and checked: the clue, as printed, is [___City], with no space between the underline and the "C"; the name of the game is "SimCity," one string, internal capital. And they say the clue editors don't know what they're doing!

Not my finest hour (or 25 minutes)--I don't expect myself to know the names of 21st century starlets--even Emmy-award winning ones--but, given my interests in languages and food, DARI and GARI felt like things that should have been gimmes, but weren't. Although not a problem for me, I wonder how many solvers can pull a Latin third declension neuter plural off the top of their caput. And there have been so many kingdoms in the the long history of Asia minor, xYxIA could have been a lot of things (although I dismissed sYrIA pretty quickly). And SKxHxx suggested a headgear from a culture not mine--Arabic? Indian? Hebrew?--even thought I'm not planning to be bare-headed when I go skiing later this morning. Also, unable to unwind the theme without the revealer (I know Lewis likes to challenge himself with that, as well)--GROW IN and GROWING OLD both have "grow" at their roots, and some people do sport GOLD teeth, although usually not from birth; and THEIR(s) seemed like a perfectly good pronoun to find in THE IRONY. Now that the puzzle is done, I will be frustrated all morning, trying to think of some common two-word phrase with the form xxxSIL VERxxx or xxxCOP PERxxx. Anyone? Or even xxxNEODYMI UMxxx. (Did you know that Neodymium [magnets] come [in bars]? Or that NEOPETS live in the Kingdom of Neopia? I do, now.) (In case anyone should misread this post, my frustration is entirely with my own dimness, and not with any flaw in Mr. Burch's puzzle.)

What a lively puzzle! It took me back to my WILDE and crazye days of yore (I wasn't always a middle-aged, married man, ya know). After one of those Saturday evening Disco NAPS, and waking up with a strong case of CABIN fever, I head out to my local watering hole, and there HE was, on the dance floor--Mr--well let's just say, MR RIGHT NOW. He didn't look very happy out there, as he had been cornered by a couple of dudes who were down-right OXES! Somehow, I managed to find the NERVE to CUT IN, very politely, of course; I offered to get us both drinks, but he was so grateful to be rescued that he offered to pick up the TAB. He showed me pictures of his LAB (always a way to score points), and I showed him pix from last SKI trip. We traded SSNs, (false, of course). "Do you want to take this POCO a POCO?" he asked, or do you have a YEN to . . ." "HE_ _ YEAH!" came my reply. Well, I know you want the LURID deets, but it's None of YER BIZ! Suffice it to say that soon we had SET UP CAMP, BOOTs and TUBE SOCKS thrown about the room, and were at it like a couple of TRASH PANDAs . (Another entry might fit here, but the emus would be offended. Lying there afterwards, I thought "Is this just a PHASE? Is he just a quick PIECE? I'VE NO IDEA." But it was worth pulling some bacon out of the freezer for breakfast the next morning. Eighteen years later, he's still the love of my life! *** Here's a MEETCUTE from Elle Cordova, complete with MAGMA: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/shorts/aayStR3xjrU" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/shorts/aayStR3xjrU</a>

Hi Kelly! I shoulda guessed a Michigander connection to this puzzle, with ODAWA (I spend a fair amount of time around Little Traverse Bay), and the shout out to Detroit's Fisher Building. Heck, the block of black squares at the bottom left of the grid sorta looks like the top of the Fisher! If you haven't caught it yet, the Detroit Institute of Art is presenting an interesting show of contemporary Anishinaabe (i.e. Odawa and Ojibwe) artists. Very much worth seeing! Any grid with Hedy Lamarr is Hunky-Dory in my books.

The last couple weeks, I have been working some very earl;y shifts, and haven't been able to get to the puzzle, or Wordplay, until late afternoon. If anyone missed my comment yesterday, Happy (late) Pi Day! Stop and pick up piece on your way home from the Senate (if you make it.) Struggled for x-ty-eight minutes, to the point of completely clearing and re-entering the puzzle, until I realized I had misread the clue to 15A as referring to the work, not the author, and Am HOME, not AT HOME, didn't bother me excessively. Talk about a CARELESS MISTAKE! *** *** *** 40D brings to mind a story. I never quite know how my profession: I will describe myself as a "baker"," especially when I want to sound humble, salt-or-the-earth; "(pastry) chef" technically refers to a management, salaried position--which I do not have--despite that even my bosses will on occasion introduce or address me as "Chef Bill"; "pastry cook," while accurate, sounds ungainly. The first time I visited Paris, in the 1990's, as the plane made its approach to Orly Airport, I was given a Carte de Débarquement to fill out. When I got to the line "MÉTIER," I confidently filled in "Patissier," and thought "Finally! A land which accords me the respect I deserve!"

I'm an average red-blooded gay man--does that make me homonormative*? I had a college professor who would regularly say "normative" when he meant "normal," and "holistic" when he meant "whole," and "heuristic" when he meant, well I don't know, something that wasn't holistic or normative, I guess. He would smoke pot with, and married one of, his students (not me). He came to embody everything I found risible about Academia. *although in neither the OED or M-W, "Homonormativity" is, in fact, a term coined by Queer theorist Lisa Duggan, around 2003. But I prefer Practice over Theory: I'm a practicing homosexual, and, as we know, practice makes perfect. Or is that TMI? Nice chewy Thursday puzzle, with a lot of misdirects. Thank you, Ms. Dershowitz!

OK, Fellow Wordplayers, it's 2025, a new year! Time to put aside the GUILT and head back to your respective GYMS! Whether you're looking to bulk up your MASS, or prefer the shredded look, with every muscle and SINEW defined, time to REV yourself up, go ALL IN, and attack it like a Tokugawa ERA SAMURAI! No excuses! Let neither SNOWY white-out blizzard nor FLASH FLOOD keep you away! But first, a few tips: 1) It's a gym, not a SPA--don't PERCH on that incline bench whilst you check your social media--other people are waiting to use it! 2) Speaking of social media--in that swolfie you're about to snap (SAY CHEESE!), you will look hotter, more defined when UPLIT--now that's JPG worthy of Insta! 3) Always remember to TARE the scale before you weigh yourself, unless your goal *is* to bulk--everyone FIBS about their weight; it's no great SIN one needs to make AMENDs for! 4) Speaking of SINS--remember to do you LAUNDRY regularly--no one wants you smelling like a flock of crop-destroying EMUS! 5) Some exercises can be less dangerous, and more productive if done with a spotter, A DUE. Just make sure they're reliable, and won't leave you stranded mid-set gasping "DON'T LEAVE me!" 6) That gorilla with the 18"guns doing preacher-curls--I dare you to go up to him and say "technically, the plural is bicipites."--I just *dare you! Oh wait, you just did--well, SUCKS TO BE YOU.

For a long while, for 29A I held onto nEcco (wafers), which were also discontinued, also in 2018--much to the consternation of patissiers everywhere, as they made the best INSULATIONS for the roofs of gingerbread houses. When it was first announced, I considered stockpiling them for future construction projects. But, as it happened, the New England Confectionery Company sold the brand and production equipment to the Spangler Candy Company (of Byron, Ohio), and supply returned in 2020, thus ensuring the continued domestic warmth of the cookie populace.

I for, one, don't have to cross the Atlantic, just the Detroit River. (or, for that matter, just turn and face the other end of the living room sofa.)

"What?," he said, "You mean Greenland isn't really that big?"

Call me Negatron, the anti-poster to the eternally positive Lewis in Asheville, but I found this a very unpleasant puzzle. First off, any gimmick which requires a 53-word preliminary explanation is needlessly complicated and contrived. The grid art--all the circles within circles and shaded squares made it difficult to read, not to mention navigate with a cursor, as I am solving on a laptop. The new words formed from the rotated letters seemed completely random, and, in a dialect where the strings M-A-A and F-O-M-O are Valid Crossword Answers, the whole notion of "validity" is called into question. Why not PBT and JARP? I'm sure I could find a way to clue those: ([To break, as an Easter egg]). By the time I ran the Qwerty at EL_OWL and _OMO (Neither elms nor elk are common in the SW--why didn't I see "elf"?) and got the Happy Music, I was in such a snit I didn't even care about the circled letters. Anyway, the irritating grid art was made all the more irritating by the animation, sorta like the sensory overload I feel when walking through a casino. (Have you ever noticed that the bells on slot machines are all tuned to the same key? If they weren't, the cacophony would drive off even the most addicted gamblers.) To alleviate my mood, I will turn to a 7 minute concerto brought to us by the Jacobs School of Music at IU Bloomington, suggested by two of the entries--but which? <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aCFnzSCzoYA" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aCFnzSCzoYA</a>.

So much to love in this puzzle! [Say it again, louder] So much to love in this puzzle! From my pennant-flagged former home state, to, OHH, my current home! Ste. Anne de Détroit! The second oldest parish in the United States, co-founded in 1701 by French Franciscan and Jesuit priests (orders which did not always play well with one another). The original building was closer to downtown Detroit, and of course burnt down, as did several subsequent re-buildings--the current basilica, from 1886, is the eighth incarnation. (<a href="https://tinyurl.com/2prcc6hx" target="_blank">https://tinyurl.com/2prcc6hx</a>) The neighborhood was at first predominantly French, then Irish, then Latino, and now Urban Hipsters--at one point, during the 1940's, Masses (including sermons) were said in Latin, French, English, and Spanish. You can buy a great homemade guac at the nearby La Colmena grocery store (very busy around 1pm on Sunday, after the noon Spanish Mass ends). Mozart wrote two symphonies in G minor, Nos. 25 and 40; and whereas the 4Oth is all elegance and grace, the earlier one--which you might recognize as the opening title music to *Amadeus*--is definitely *Sturm und Drang*: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bnxS9iPBTkw" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bnxS9iPBTkw</a> For a little late-20th c. storm and stress, let's turn to Mr. Dolby: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkj4p3rI17s" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkj4p3rI17s</a>

I'm sure this will be old news to many of you, but Elmer's Products, Inc., the manufacturer of Glue-All, was founded in 1947 as a subsidiary of the Borden dairy company. It's mascot, Elmer the Bull, was designed to be the mate of Elsie the Cow. Love in the grocery aisles. The original glues were based on casein, a milk product (and not, as I had long assumed, the boiled-down carcasses of superannuated dairy cattle); although Elmer's Glue-All was an all-artificial adhesive from the very start. But TIL that the company founder, Gail Borden (1801-1874), was not only the inventor of sweetened condensed milk, but a major player in the Texas War of Independence. So many interesting rabbit holes this morning!

I've only done half the puzzle--but already, it's one of the funnest Sundays I've playing in quite a while. I could race through and finish, but I'll wait till tomorrow afternoon, and save the pleasure until then! :-) :-) :-)

Notes on [Fin]=ABE=$5 bill: According to Green's Dictionary of Slang, "fin" is an abbreviation of "finnif" or "finnip"--the first citation in the U.S, is from 1909, but the first in the U.K. (for a 5£ note) is from 1868. Green's cites a use from as recently as 1996, but it's hard to judge out of context whether this was talking about "historical" usage. "Finnif" derives from Yiddish for "five," from German "fünf." "Fin" has also been used as slang for a five-year prison sentence. <a href="https://greensdictofslang.com/entry/2yurlzq" target="_blank">https://greensdictofslang.com/entry/2yurlzq</a> So, now I'm an expert on the etymologies of "fin" and "Audi"! Weird flex, but OK.

Help! I need a chemist! In 9D, LYE is described as [an *aid* in making soap]. Now, my understanding is that soap, at its core, is a salt between a fatty acid, such as stearic, and an alkali ion, such as sodium or potassium. The sodium comes from lye [NaOH]. So in that sense, lye is an ingredient--a reagent--not an aid, which participates but doesn't join in--a solvent or catalyst. Of course, you could substitute the lye with something else, like potassium hydroxide, but that would be making pie crust with lard instead of butter. Old backpacker's tip: wanna clean out that dirty cook pot? Throw a little ash from the campfire in--the potash from the ash will cause saponification (How I love that word--Robyn, I miss you*!) with the fats in the pan, and grit from the ash will provide abrasive. In fact "pot ash"-->"potassium," which is why we call it that in English, unlike the "Kalium" of other, benighted, languages. *a dearly-missed friend, who was a high school science teacher, not Robyn Weintraub. But, Ms. Wientraub, if you're reading, please include SAPONIFICATION into a late-week grid!

The true story, not the apocryphal one: One chill evening in 1680--chill as only evenings in Britain can be--Newton was dining with John Flamsteed and Edmond Halley. Flamsteed was asking Newton about his recent work on optical theory, but Newton's mouth was full, and all he could utter was an "omnomnom" (or was that a "nomnomnom"? Accounts differ.) Newton was, in fact, helping himself to another serving roast beef, when Halley, whose mouth was parched from that dry-as-dust oatcake, reached for the pitcher of ale, and inadvertently bumped Newton, causing him to spill gravy all over his front ("For every action, there is an equal, but opposite reaction"). And thus Celestial Mechanics was born. *** Don't get me started on "food sensitivities," but I gotta drop in to say that, although OATS do not contain gluten*, they are frequently eschewed but persons striving to keep a gluten-free lifestyle. Oats are frequently processed in mills which also process gluteny grains, and cross-contamination is considered possible. Some companies offer "certified gluten-free" oats, for which they charge more. *unlike RYE and barley, both of which contain more gluten than wheat. It's amazing how many people--chefs included--don't realize this. And yet they live.

Swole puzzle, Mr. Bodily! Although I had never considered Ice beer before, as soon as I worked it out from the crosses, it seemed obvious: to concentrate the alcohol content by partially freezing the beer, and removing the ice. The ethanol, of course, doesn't freeze, and so is left behind. Per Wikipedia, the process originated in Germany (Eisbock), but really took off in Canada. Probably because it's cold there. Another reason to love my neighbors to the south. (Canada has, in recent decades, become a major producer of Eiswein, or ice wine, as well--but in that case the freezing occurs at a different point in the production, and for a different purpose.) But here's the spin: the process of concentrating the alcohol through partial freezing is known as "jacking"--when done to fermented cider, the result is called "applejack." So ice beer is a brew which could be said to be BEERJACKED! <a href="https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/jack#Verb" target="_blank">https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/jack#Verb</a>

"Pia maters" "pia maters" "pia maters" Just saying it gives me pain in the larynx, like I just downed a shot of orange vodka immix't with raki and Lysol®. If you must pluralize it--which neither M-W or OED bother to do--at least do so elegantly: "Piæ matres." (I may add both sources list, as primary plurals, "cortices," "larynges," and even "irides," at least when used anatomically.) Speaking of Matres: lovely little Mother's Day mini-theme with PIA MATER, MOTHER EARTH, and HECATE--a goddess often invoked in childbearing. And I suppose we could add H. SAPIENS neanderthalensis to the immixture, since most of us have inherited a few genes in our DNA from our Neanderthal fore-mothers, who were probably *sapientior* than we could ever hope to be. Happy Mother's Day to all out there!

If I may opine: Several persons today have commented on NEAP: yes, it's Crosswordese; it's also basic scientific terminology--at least for those of us who, in the 1970's, poured over Rachel Carson's *The Sea Around Us (Adapted for Younger Readers)*. It's also vital terminology for those who live in seaside communities and make their livelihood from fishing; which few of us do, nowadays. Similarly, yesterday evening my Partner and I took a walk our neighborhood park; above us, through the Great Canadian Smaze, the moon--waxing gibbous--was dully shining. "Should be full next week, when we're Up North," said I, "No, this weekend--probably Sunday." My Partner--who is brilliant with finances and figures, and no dummy--replied "How can you tell?" As our civilization becomes increasingly technological, indoor, artificially lit, our perception and understanding of natural phenomena disappears. Nevertheless, even whilst our planet burns, they go on. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYrZjwP2QuE" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYrZjwP2QuE</a> (really, starts at 1:05)

As a pastry chef (even if my job description has changed a bit in the last year), I'm irritated just a tad by the description of S'MORE as a "dessert item," but ÉCLAIR as "decadent." Why "decadent"? Because it's French, and has a diacritic in it's name? But then, "s'more" has an unnecessary punctuation mark; and if we're talking empty calories, I'd say s'mores have éclairs beat hands down. In fact, s'mores and éclairs bear certain morphological similarities: a rather bland flour-based shell enclosing an overly-sweet, gooey filling, with chocolate added, inside or on top. Éclairs are made with cream puff pastry*, which is one of the quickest and easiest doughs to prepare, if somewhat messy to clean up. True, for élcairs you need to make a custard (crème pâtissière) and chocolate glaze, but, hey, even instant pudding will do in a pinch. Even the great poet Maya Angelou knew that: <a href="https://www.npr.org/2014/06/01/317843650/maya-angelou-foodie" target="_blank">https://www.npr.org/2014/06/01/317843650/maya-angelou-foodie</a> (When I heard that segment air, I said "Yes! Someone who finally gets it!") *not to be confused with "puff pastry," which is one of the most difficult and labor-intensive. In French, they are called "pâte à choux" and "pâte feuilletée," respectively, so you'd never get the two mixed up, even though they both have *two* diacritics in their names.