You must really like coffee!

As spring approaches (Marash Girl does not believe that it has, in fact, arrived yet), Marash Girl's thoughts turn to . . . coffee . . . or rather, coffee grounds . . . and what, exactly do coffee grounds have to do with spring?  Glad that you asked.

Once Marash Girl began gardening (she has turned her small grassy(?) plot in front of the house into what will one day, she hopes, become a perennial flower garden), she began her search for compost, and the easiest compost to acquire? . . . coffee grounds . . . and the closest storehouse of coffee grounds? . . . . Starbucks!  Starbucks will save up their coffee grounds for you providing you provide them early in the day with a five gallon bucket in which to store their used coffee grounds, AND providing you pick up that bucket full of coffee grounds at the end of the day.

Thus Marash Girl arrived at the Starbucks on Galen Street in Newton Corner early one morning last spring carrying a large orange bucket.

Eyeing the big orange bucket, the fellow standing in line behind Marash Girl, waiting to order his favorite brew commented, "You must really like coffee!"

From Gardenweb.com:
While it is widely thought that coffee grounds are acidic, it has been shown that most of this acidity is removed in the brewing process. Used grounds are essentialy neutral and composting them with other materials will buffer any minor residual acidity.  

Armenians in Watertown: The Artwork of Philip Hagopian

Randomly, Marash Girl left Joe’s and wandered into the newly-named Armenian Museum of America — and there was Gary Lind-Sinanian at the front desk, encouraging Marash Girl to head upstairs to the third floor gallery.  “The artist is up there now hanging paintings for his exhibit . . . you may like the paintings!”  And sure enough, Philip Hagopian was there mounting his often multi-dimensional (especially the ones inspired by his stay in Hayasdan) and neo-impressionistic (especially the paintings of Vermont) paintings.  Busy about his work, Marash Girl did not want to interrupt, but felt honored to be able to see the canvases before the crowds arrived on opening day (the very next day).  Heading back to the restaurant where she was to meet Marash Boy, she carried the image of one of those paintings with her and there, sitting at a table in Watertown Square's Not Your Average Joe’s, was the female subject painted in the Hagopian paintings Marash Girl had just viewed in AMA's third floor gallery.  Marash Girl approached her:  "Didn’t I just see you in the paintings hung on the museum walls upstairs?”

Philip Hagopian introduces his multi-dimensional paintings at the Armenian Museum of America.

Naira Hagopian photographs the audience, as they listen intently to her husband,
Philip Hagopian, talking about his paintings.

Old friends from Springfield, Massachusetts meet, and new friends greet. . .

"Our home in Vermont."

Naira Hagopian, modeling beneath the painting for which she was the model.

"You're so lucky to be living surrounded by Armenians.  We live in Vermont surrounded by mountains.  Not only are there no Armenians in Morrisville, Vermont, but when folks ask me where I'm from and I tell them Armenia, they answer, "Oh, yes, I know.  My grandfather was from Romania, too!"  (Marash Girl replied, "Better than saying, 'Oh, yes, I know; Turkish, right?'")

N.B.  Philip Hagopian was born in East Longmeadow, Massachusetts; his wife, Naira, was born in Armenia.

Coffee, anyone?

Standing in line at McDonald's waiting patiently to order a cup of coffee, a burly young fellow was sipping from a cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee.  When Marash Girl looked questioningly at him, he commented, "Well, you never know how long the line's gonna be here . . . "

You can't win for winning!

Recently, following a showing of  THE LOVINGS, a made for TV film on the Supreme Court decision against states' laws prohibiting inter-racial marriage, a group of viewers engaged in a discussion on prejudice, racism, etc. (Obviously.  What else would you discuss after the showing of such a film?) The viewers were commenting on how racism was alive and well in Newton in the 1960's.

Marash Girl mentioned that at Day Jr. High School, the most popular boy in the school was a fellow who happened to be black.

"Oh, that's just reverse discrimination," retorted a City of Newton official (who happens to be white), discounting Marash Girl's point. 

Marash Girl wonders whether the official feels the same way about the election (to a second term) of Newton's Mayor Setti Warren, Massachusetts' Governor Duval Patrick,  United States President Barack Obama . . .

It seems that you can't win for winning!

Protest to Stop Turkey's Role in Attacking Kessab, Syria

Shocking as it may seem, the report of this attack did not appear in the New York Times nor did it appear in the Wall Street Journal!

"Protest to Stop Turkey's Role in Attacking Kessab
Friday, March 28, 2014 2-4PM

The AYF, along with various religious and political groups, has organized a protest in front of the Turkish Consulate in order to put a stop to Turkey's role in the attacks against Armenian civilians. Buses will be provided from St. Mary's Church in Glendale (500 S. Central Ave.) promptly at 1pm. For more details and questions, please call (818) 507-1933.

The last few days have been a tumultuous, heavy burden for the Armenian Community due to the atrocities that have occurred in Kessab, Syria. The armed incursion in Kessab began on Friday, March 21, with rebels associated with Al-Qaeda's al-Nusra Front, Sham al-Islam and Ansar al-Sham crossing the Turkish border and attacking the Armenian civilian population of Kessab.

For more information on the attacks, click here: http://asbarez.com/121079/armenian-homes-in-kessab-looted-occupied/

---

- See more at: http://www.armeniancalendar.com//events/2014/March/7858.html#sthash.SgLStCV6.dpuf"

Mindehrs in the New World

What is a mindehr?   (mind rhymes with wind; ehr rhymes with air as in wind!) Have you heard of the kitchen couch?  The kitchen couch was a major piece of "furniture" in many homes in the United States in the first half of the 20th century . . . (Was it only in Armenian homes?)  The kitchen couch was typically a roughly put together bench along the outside wall of the kitchen where family members would gather to keep company with the cook (usually the dandigin) who was preparing the meal, (undoubtedly the warmest place in the house, both in winter and summer).  The kitchen couch that Marash Girl remembers was made up of wooden orange crates positioned end to end, with the bottoms of the crates -- the unopened side -- at the top; covered with a pretty piece of cloth (or, more likely in Armenian homes, an old oriental carpet), families would place a mindehr across the length of the bench over the carpet covering (and pillows across the back against the wall).  The mindehr was usually a long narrow cushion made from lamb's wool in a fashion similar to the way angoghins (yorghans, quilts) were made by the old Armenian ladies.  [See http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2013/01/how-to-make-quilt-armenian-style.html] The mindehr (perhaps made from a worn out yorgan or quilt) was placed across the top of the crates  in the kitchen for kids and adults to sit comfortably, keep warm, and socialize with each other. Marash Girl still remembers sitting on the mindehr in her Grandmother Yester Bosnian Vartanian's kitchen on the third floor of the three floor walk-up apartment at 47 Vassal Lane in Cambridge, Massachusetts.  Do any readers of this post have such memories?

Worshiping in Rumney, New Hampshire

Summers during the 1940's, members of the United Armenian Brethren Church of Watertown, Massachusetts, would often head up to Rumney, New Hampshire, to gather with folks from area evangelical churches for a week in the country around a lake (similar to the camp meetings in Oak Bluffs on Martha's Vineyard), a week of attending religious services every morning, every afternoon, and every evening.

One evening, while the Rumney, N.H., evangelist was preaching on Satan, sitting in the congregation was Rev. Vartan Bilezikian, well known pastor of the United Armenian Brethren Church of Watertown, Massachusetts,  reverently listening to the sermon.  8 year old cousin David, Rev. Vartan's great nephew, was also in attendance. 

As David tells it, one afternoon during a particularly energetic church service, the folks in the congregation were distracted from what the (very forceful) evangelist was preaching; rather, they started turning their backs on the preacher, looking around and staring at the antics of a black cat that had walked into the house of worship and was strutting down the center aisle . . . right towards Uncle Vartan.  The preacher started railing:  "The devil has sent that black cat to distract you, my congregation of believers, to prevent you from hearing the Word of God."  The little black cat, lonely for Uncle Vartan's attention, sidled up to him and started rubbing against Uncle Vartan's ankles; the very same Uncle Vartan, owner of the cat,  tried to shoo it away without other folks in the congregation noticing. . . as the evangelist continued on the new topic of the day:  The devil has sent that black cat to prevent you from hearing the Word of God!  Get thee behind us, Satan! the evangelist preached quoting Jesus, as Uncle Vartan vainly attempted, with as much subtlety as he could muster, to shoo his cat away. 

The quickest way . . .

Marash Girl's cousin, David S., (also half Marashtsi and half Aintepsi) was quick with the quips.  On the sidewalk after church one Sunday,  David S. gathered his cousins around him and told them,

"The other day a man pulled up in a car and asked me the quickest way to the hospital.
'See that telephone pole over there?' I asked him.  'Just crash right into it!'"

"Go and Do Thou Likewise . . ."

Years ago, an evangelist visiting the Armenian Bretheren Evangelical Church in Watertown, Massachusetts, gave a sermon that Marash Girl will never forget.  For Evangelical Christians, the big push, after accepting Christ as your Personal Savior, is to read the Bible and live your life accordingly.  The evangelist emphasized the importance of reading the Bible and understanding it as a whole rather than in bits and pieces.  

To illustrate his point, he told the story of a newly Born-Again Christian who, enthusiastic in his new found faith, had promised to live his life according to the Bible.  That very evening, the newly Born Again Christian sat in the corner of his room holding his  Bible, and with his eyes closed, he opened his Bible, and pointed to a verse.  Opening his eyes, he read aloud the verse he had pointed to:  "And Judas went and hanged himself." (Matthew 27:5)  Still seeking inspiration, he closed his Bible, closed his eyes, opened his Bible again, and, pointing to a verse, he opened his eyes and read,  "Jesus said, 'Go and do thou likewise.'"  Luke 10:37.

The congregation laughed. The evangelist had made his point.

A cup of hot coffee, please.

"I'll have a cup of hot coffee, please." Is that such a difficult order to fill?  Well, yes, apparently; if you live in New England, and you don't want to drink out of a paper or styrofoam cup, and it's winter!  Because in winter, all the china cups are as cold as the ambient temperature, which is pretty cold, so no matter how hot the coffee is to begin with, as soon as it hits that cold cup, the coffee is , at best, warm.  Thus Peter, Marash Girl's father, was always left asking the waitress (at his weekly Marriott "guys" luncheon,) if she could bring him a cup of HOT coffee!  No one figured it out, really.  They kept saying, but the coffee is hot.

But it wasn't.

And finally, at the Public House in Sturbridge, Massachusetts, Marash Girl had her first truly hot cup of coffee, hot even after adding cream.  And why?  Because it was clear that the Publick House had heated its china coffee cups BEFORE pouring the hot coffee into the cups.  And oh, was that coffee good!  Father Peter would have loved it!

The Etiquette of Texting

Marash Girl was sitting at a wake, watching the only young person in the room texting non-stop. . . when suddenly the young woman's phone rang.  Furious, the young woman muttered,  "Doesn't she know that when I text her, I expect to receive a text in reply?"

Miss Manners would have something to learn from the young people of today!

More fabric softener, fewer soap suds . . . Really?

So you're at the laundromat and, if you're like Marash Girl, you fail to measure out the liquid soap and pour far more enthusiastically than you realize . . .  the soap suds soon cover the glass window of the front loading washing machine . . . and your wash will have to be run through again for another full cycle of rinsing . . .  unless, of course, you know this trick that Marash Girl recently learned.  Add more fabric softener and the soap suds will magically diminish . . . and you will be saved paying (with time and your last quarters) for another cycle of the same load of wash.  

Can a chemist out there in cyberspace explain why this trick works?

Is there an Armenian Church in Dublin?

Marash Girl grew up knowing (as a fact) that there was an ancient Armenian Church structure in Dublin, Ireland.  Searching the web as well as the knowledge of her academic  friends for confirmation of such a church, Marash Girl could find nothing.  But Marash Boy concurred that growing up, his father Nishan would often reference such a structure.  Looking back on those  days, Marash Boy remembered seeing his father in the back room of his cobbler shop in Springfield, Massachusetts, opening a bottle to share a "pop" with one of his Irish friends . . . and hearing his father, Nishan, proudly asking those friends, "Did you know that there's an ancient Armenian Church in the heart of Dublin?"

More on Armenians in Ireland . . .

On the subject of Armenians in Ireland (see below, yesterday's post), Guest Blogger Father Krikor Maksoudian writes the following.

"A part of the 'myth' you refer to may be historically true.  The presence of Armenian missionaries in Ireland, Iceland and northern (the Netherlands) and central (Germany) Europe as well as the Russian state around Kiev may not be projected back to the times of St. Patrick (end of the fourth century and beginning of the fifth), but it certainly can be verified on the basis of Western (including Slavonic) sources for the period of the 900-s and 1000-s.  Modern scholarship and archaeology have shown that some Armenian churchmen did missionary work in the above-mentioned regions  Whether they came from Armenia proper or other places is not known.  Back in the 1930-s and 1940-s an Irish woman by the name of F. Henry, an art historian, did research on Armenian and Irish relations.  She wrote articles in French and English and produced a book in English, which I have not seen as it has been out of print ever since I can remember.  It might be worth searching the Widener Library catalogues.  She found similarities between the Armenian khachkars and the Irishcrosses.

"I cannot say anything about the remnants of an ancient Armenian church in Dublin.  As for the “Black” Irish and their origins, it seems to be a myth, since there is no record about any Armenian settlements or colonies in Ireland at any time.  Furthermore, the small number of missionaries that frequented northwestern Europe were monks and bishops with no families and lay fellow travelers.  One must also remember that not all Armenians have dark skin.  Over the millennia our people, located at the crossroads of the ancient and the medieval worlds, have absorbed within their ranks many racial types and are not homogeneous at all in color of skin, in stature and even in racial characteristics."

Hayr Krikor

Armenians in Ireland?

Is it true that Christian Armenian missionaries went from Armenia to Ireland very early in Irish (and Armenian) history . . . that today there are still the remnants of an ancient Armenian church in Dublin?  that the "Black" Irish are the result of the Armenians who went to Ireland and stayed and mixed with the resident population? Marash Girl has wondered about this . . . carried it in the back of her mind for years, but she has never found confirmation or denial of this "factoid".  Still wondering . . . Can you, dear reader, help solve the mystery?

All this to say . . . Happy St. Patrick's Day!

What? You haven't started saving those onion skins yet?

"Albanian peoples, good peoples; herd sheep on top of mountain; good peoples." . . . Peter (quoting his Albanian friend who had a shop in Newtonville Square . . . ) 

Newtonville Square, several doors down from where these words were first spoken many years ago, Marash Girl met a young man -- Albanian, as it turned out -- A "good people" with a wonderful sense of humor.  When Marash Girl started comparing notes (Easter traditions), she learned that the Albanians also use onion skins to color their Easter eggs (see Marash Girl http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2011/04/have-you-started-saving-your-onion.html)  but that the young man from Albania now living in Newtonville has been using store bought red dye to color Easter eggs with his son.  "Why?" Marash Girl asked him.  He had no answer, really, but hopefully Marash Girl convinced him to try the traditional Armenian (and, as it turned out, Albanian) custom for coloring Easter eggs using onion skins, a natural dye, rather than the artificial store bought red dye.

Strangely enough, it was that very evening that Marash Girl had a conversation with her Iranian Armenian friends who admitted that they colored Easter eggs with store-bought dye; in fact, they knew nothing about the (apparently)  Western Armenian tradition of coloring Easter eggs with onion skins.  With red onion skins? her friend asked.  No, Marash Girl assured her; with the common brown skinned onions -- all those skins that annoy most cooks as they peel their onions, are skins to be treasured for that moment before Easter, called Good Friday, when we remember the blood shed on the cross;  and believe it or not, those onion skins work their magic, and because they're a natural dye, you can even eat those hard-boiled Easter eggs after they've been colored, and on Easter day, cracked, when children of Armenian extraction joyfully "break open the tomb".

A Dancing Jester at Boston Ballet's CINDERELLA

There they were at the Boston Ballet, awaiting the curtain to open on the  performance of CINDERELLA . . . two Armenian women, one from Massachusetts, and one from California via Iran.   They unilaterally began looking through the list of dancers in the program, as most Armenians are wont to do before a performance begins, looking for names ending in 'ian . . .  and not disappointed, they found one Armenian name -- the name of the man who was dancing the role of the King's jester!  
"How perfect!" quipped Marash Boy.

Further NORTH OF BOSTON

In presenting her newly published novel, NORTH OF BOSTON, to the gathering at Stellina's Restaurant in Watertown Square,  Elisabeth Elo began by explaining that as an adult, she had never found a character that she wanted to read about.  At the same time, she had had a character living in her mind that would not leave her alone -- a character that insisted on being brought to life on the pages of a book.  That was the beginning . . . . Or perhaps the beginning of NORTH OF BOSTON occurred when Elo was involved in a boat accident.  Elo explained that she began writing this novel, but 60 pages in, she realized that she didn't have enough information to write this book . . . that she needed to do research before continuing.   She put the book aside and wrote another book.  But the character in her mind persisted.  She had no peace until she released the character onto paper.  

Or perhaps NORTH OF BOSTON began during her stay in Newburyport, Massachusetts, where she lived close to Joppa Flats for many years.  Or on Cape Cod during her participation in dolphin shows (where she actually swam with the dolphins, something that she and her cohorts were specifically forbidden to do).  

Elo describes the writing process -- the creative writing process -- as superimposing structure on total chaos.  She talked about the need to be coldhearted (if it doesn't work, throw it away!) . . . the need to  be comfortable with complete uncertainty until the last word.  "You have to be comfortable taking risks in your writing, or the book will be dull."  She explained that she always found structure and research "a pain", but loved writing. She continued, "I'm always surprised when I get to the end of writing a book. . . that's the last word?  Really? I ask myself as I write that last word."

"NORTH OF BOSTON began with the theme of conquering fear -- of getting back on the horse when you've fallen off, as it were," Elo said.  "Lots of things from my life poured out -- I had too much material -- not overtly, but too many themes and preoccupations . . . ", much of it from her own life. She was the youngest of 4 kids, 2 of her brothers were ships men and her sister is now preparing to sail around the world.  As youngsters, her older brothers and sister were always going off boating, and her mother would beg them to take Elisabeth along; they wouldn't!

Elisabeth Elo has written five novels, two of them have been published.  The first published novel was a comic novel, published under her own name; her second novel, NORTH OF BOSTON, is a suspense novel published under her pen name, Elisabeth Elo.  She explained that it was difficult to find a publisher -- that the first agent she approached said her book was terrible, but she found another agent who loved the book and found her a publisher.  Viking proceeded to remove 25,000 words from the manuscript which had taken Elo three years to write.  Elisabeth Elo's NORTH OF BOSTON was published this year, 2014.

NORTH OF BOSTON, West of Boston

 Elisabeth Elo arrives at Stellina's Restaurant in Watertown Square (west of Boston)
 to talk about her new book, NORTH OF BOSTON

Preparing to write a post on the book NORTH OF BOSTON by Elisabeth Elo, reporting on a book signing that she attended last night at the exquisite Stellina's Restaurant in Watertown Square, Marash Girl, upon doing some research, found that NORTH OF BOSTON was also the title of a book of poetry by Robert Frost containing the poems After Apple-picking; A Hundred Collars; A Servant to Servants; The Black Cottage; Blueberries; The Code; The Death of the Hired Man; The Fear; The Generations of Men; Good Hours; Home Burial; The Housekeeper; Mending Wall; The Mountain; The Pasture; The Self-Seeker; The Wood-Pile.

How is it possible that the author Elisabeth Elo (her pen name) who has a Ph.D. in American Literature, could not have known that she was using the same title as Robert Frost's book of poetry?  She must have known. The discovery stopped Marash Girl cold in her tra ... typing . . . cold enough to end this blog post here.

In the foyer of Stellina's Restaurant in Watertown Square, Ann Salvucci Rossi, who grew up on the west side of Boston, browses through the recently published mystery by Elisabeth Elo,  NORTH OF BOSTON.  Rossi came to the book signing, she admits, because she was attracted by the title of the book.

Where two or three are gathered . . .

The other day, Marash Girl was chastised by Irene for not having attended church . . . Marash Girl promptly and inadvertently misquoted Matthew 18:20: "For when one or two are gathered in my name, there am I also."  Of course, it was late (that's Marash Girl's excuse) and she was tired, but Irene never hesitated.  "NO!  That's not the quote . . . The Bible says, "For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." (Matthew 18:20, King James Bible).  Being properly chastised, Marash Girl just grinned and said, "Well, the Holy Spirit and I make one!"

The quotation from Matthew brought to mind another of Marash Girl's favorite quotations, this one by William Saroyan:

"For when two of them [Armenians] meet anywhere in the world, see if they will not create a New Armenia. . .”   

The passage  is often seen posted on the walls of Armenian-American establishments, or at the least, carried in the hearts of most Armenian-Americans. Could the Saroyan passage here quoted have been inspired by Matthew 18:20? After all, William Saroyan's father was a Presbyterian minister . . .

On Being Armenian in Spain

Contributing Blogger Nilla offers the following true story:

My grandparents, who were both Armenian, were adventurous travelers. Between World War II and the late 1970s, they drove their car all over Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East. In 1953, I think, they accompanied an American representative to Iran from Tehran to Cairo. What a trip that must have been. On one of their many trips, they were lost in the mountains of southern Spain. They drove and drove and finally saw a couple on the side of the road. They pulled over to ask for directions... First in English, then in French, then in Persian, then in Turkish. No use. They couldn't make themselves understood. They then switched to broken Arabic, broken Russian, broken German. Feeling that they were getting nowhere with this inquiry, my grandfather turned to my grandmother and said in Armenian, "Inch anenk, ban chen haskanoom?" (What shall we do?  They don't understand a thing!) to which the Spanish couple jumped and, in fluent Armenian, joyfully asked, "Amman, dook al hayek??"  (Oh my goodness! Are you also Armenian?)

On Being Armenian in Paris

Is this story apocryphal?  Marash Girl thinks not; she was told the story many years ago by a group of young Armenian men standing at the gate of the Armenian House, Cité Universitaire, speaking French and Armenian to each other on a sunny July afternoon in Paris.  A translation follows.

"So we were all standing here, chattering away in Armenian, telling jokes, and every time we came to the punch line, the black fellow across the way would start laughing.  We continued telling jokes, but  at every punch line, the black fellow would laugh.  We said to each other in Armenian,  "Who is that guy?  Every time we crack a joke, he laughs at the punch line. Is he crazy or what? (Khent e gam inch? Արդյոք  խենդ է  կամ ինչ?)

"On cue, the black fellow across the way called over to us in fluent Armenian: 'Ես ալ հայ եմ… Yes al Hay em! I'm Armenian, too!'"

Perk up that ho-hum chicken soup!

Perk up that ho-hum chicken soup! Try adding a dollop of rum.

Marash Martha swears by it! (Although she didn't reveal when she adds the rum:  whether just before she simmers the soup for an hour, or just before she serves the soup!)

"Don't Get Wise With Me, SIster!"

It was after Newton High School's dress rehearsal for 'Camelot', probably around 9 at night, many years ago.  Gil Bickum, Mark Golub, the stars of the show, and some of the other members of the cast and orchestra were in Mark Golub's old '45 Chrysler, driving along Washington Street in Newtonville.

One of the City's Finest pulled the car over.  (The car was missing a headlight, apparently.)

"Okay," barked the officer as he shone his flashlight into their faces.  "What are your names?  You, the driver . ."

"Mark Golub."

"And you?"

"Gil Bickum."

"And you, young lady?"

"Bethel Bilezikian."

"Don't get wise with me, sister.  What's your real name?"

That's what you get for growing up Armenian-American in Newton, Massachusetts . . .

Stomp on those old dried out lemons!

Okay, so here's the scoop.  Marash Girl's mother-in-law Azniv always stomped on her lemons before she squeezed them . . .  Just to soften them up.   Not old dried out lemons, but fresh lemons. (Did she bring this custom with her from Marash?) Then she rinsed the lemons, cut them in half and proceeded to squeeze them on her antique (for her it wasn't antique) glass lemon reamer.   That way she was able to squeeze the very last bits of lemon juice from the rind.

(Marash Girl thinks she does Azniv one better when Marash Girl makes hummus and babaghanoush. . . she peels the lemons, removes the seeds, and puts the lemon -- sans seeds and peel -- into the Cuisinart, blends it up and adds it to the chick pea or eggplant mixture.  Absolutely delicious!  Azniv would approve!) . . . but back to the subject at hand.

Stomping on your lemons is particularly helpful when you've had the lemons around for a long time . . . when the skins become so dried out that the lemon skins become hard . . . impossible to squeeze, (is that what happens to us after a long time?) and everyone in the family is telling you to throw them out. So rather than tossing those forgotten in the corner lemons, stomp on them, rinse them off, squeeze them using your (now) antique glass lemon reamer [whatever you do, don't use a plastic lemon reamer . . . unless you want to change the flavor and the chemical makeup of the lemon juice], and the result will be 'extra-strength' lemon juice.  

Note of warning:  be careful how much you use in your soup, or your soup will be too թթու ["tutou"] for even the hardiest of taste buds to tolerate!

Think before you write? Or write before you think . . .

You know what E. M. Forster used to say . . .

"How do I know what I think until I see what I write . . ."

Marash Girl "knows" that that's true for her . . . . and now she knows for sure!

Return that dish, but never return it empty!

Pleased that someone has gone to the trouble of preparing you a meal on a platter? Gifting you a birthday cake? Delivering you soup when you're feeling under the weather?  Sharing a tray of cookies with you and your family?  

You'll certainly be attentive to returning their pot/platter/tray . . . BUT will you return the pot/platter/tray empty?  Not if you're Armenian!  If you're Armenian, you'd NEVER return a platter empty . . . Never!

Why not?

You tell Marash Girl!

Try Zaytoun!

Tired of the hustle and bustle (now there's a really old-fashioned word) . . . let's try again . . .

Tired of the screaming music and 30 minute waits while you're crowded into the windy entrance of a popular restaurant on Smith Street in Brooklyn Heights? (Luluc, to be exact!) The music was so loud that Marash Girl had trouble even imagining how to swallow the food that might be offered at brunch, much less how to taste it . . . After 20 minutes of cuddling with numerous other hopefuls in the frosty restaurant entranceway, Marash Girl and her entourage decided to try another luncheon venue -- but what? There were many small restaurants along the throroughfare, but all of them were empty . . . this could not bode well.   Marash Girl's son Deron solved the dilemma, (as he is so often wont to do when restaurants or geographical questions rear their pretty heads . . . ) "I know a small place with delicious food -- Zaytoun -- it's right up the street -- only a short 6 block walk."

[Beginning on Smith Street, in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn Heights, it would be a mere 15 minute walk  from Montague (the main drag in Brooklyn Heights) in good weather,-- of course, on this day the roads were covered with ice and slush and snow as were the sidewalks, and snow was raining from the skies!]

Zaytoun Restaurant - Photos by Marash Girl

Seated at Zaytoun, a major discussion ensued when Marash Girl found garmir kufte incorrectly named and attributed to an ethnicity other than her own, but since she makes garmir kufte all the time, she knew what it was . . . Marash Boy's great grandmother -- an ethnic Armenian, as is Marash Girl -- made it all the time . . . Now let's call an Armenian dish an Armenian dish!

Appetizers at Zaytoun . . . Garmir Kufte on the right

Zaytoun did not disappoint us!  The service was charming and the food tasted as good as it looks (see photo by Marash Girl above)!

Inch by Inch

As Marash Girl approached her automobile late that wintery night, she sighed; there she was, wedged in by two brand new autos . . . one inch to spare at each end.  An initial panic set in, calmed by the memory of her father's assurances.

"If the space in which you're trying to park your car is only one inch longer than your car, you can make it."

"Well," Marash Girl muttered to herself, "if I can make it in with only one inch to spare, I should be able to make it out, right, Dad?"

Gamatz, gamatz; little by little; inch by inch . . . Marash Girl tried to extricate her automobile  one  inch to spare on each end, roadways and walkways covered with snow and ice, 20 degrees F with a wind, at 10 o'clock at night . . . back and forth, back and forth, back and forth . . . and she was out!

Just Say Yes, #2

The President of the Senior Class of Watertown High School, Class of 1932, was ahead of his time when he advised his former classmates to "Just say yes!"

[See http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2014/02/just-say-yes_13.html]  

Marash Girl recently came across a book by that very title, the hardcover which will go on sale in March of 2014.  (No, Marash Girl did not see the book before she wrote her blogpost, nor has she read it, but YOU can read it when you purchase the brand new paperback publisher's review copy at OldCornerBooks.com!)  The book is written by the industrialist Bernard L. Schwartz, who was, according to the publishers, "a boy raised in Depression-era Brooklyn who grew up to become a giant in the aerospace business . . . part memoir, part prescription for a better America in politics and business."  

Marash Girl has concluded that those boys growing up during the depression, Marashtsis included, were something else!  Would that we "collejagans" could do as well in today's economy . . . 

ON TAP: Bob Oakes (WBUR's Morning Edition) interviews Dr. Rachel Volberg & Laurie Salame on Massachusetts Casinos

Bob Oakes of WBUR's Morning Edition, interviewing

Dr. Rachel Volberg & Laurie Salame, JD, at the WBUR studios

Dr. Rachel Volberg (right) who conducts epidemiological research on gambling throughout the world, and Laurie Salame, JD, (left) who has worked in the casino industry and now teaches courses on hospitality law and casino management.

At the end of the evening, Bob Oakes asked the audience:  "How many of you here today are in favor of casinos in Massachusetts?  How many opposed? How many neutral?"   The vote in one family of three was 1-1-1!

On Thursday evening, February 27, 2014, Bob Oakes of WBUR's Morning Edition, "held court" (live) before an audience of WBUR supporters in the studios of WBUR.  During an interview with  Dr. Rachel Volberg (who conducts epidemiological research on gambling throughout the world) and Laurie Salame, JD (who has worked in the casino industry and now teaches courses on hospitality law and casino management) on the pros and cons of casinos in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, Oakes directed a lively, audience-interactive discussion where one member of the audience commented, "Casinos in Massachusetts?  Make way for the pawn shops!" 
Summing up the issue, a young woman challenged the presenters: "Do you know what it's like growing up in a  community blighted by a casino?"

See earlier posts by Marash Girl on the proposed casino in Springfield, Massachusetts:

http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2013/07/mgm-offers-gambling-jobs-and.html; http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2013/07/mgm-wins-vote-for-casino-in-springfield.html