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A gordita is a small, thick tortilla cooked on a griddle then stuffed with cheese, beans, meat or other types of fillings, and served with red or green salsa.
According to an unattributed text on the Net, these steamship fritters originate in a late Edo Period attempt to raise the spirits of Hagi City locals who were alarmed to see Western steam ships appear in their coastal waters. By portraying the steam ships with the shape of their sweet black bean filled griddle cakes (which usually portray celebratory fish) they hoped to at least assuage their fears if not 'eat the steam ships' themselves. Shortly after, thus inspired, the locals of Hagi started the revolution that lead to the Second World War, which was ostensibly designed to eject the steam ships and the culture of those inside them from East Asia. They lost. The steam ships, Western Culture, but also the griddle cakes, though fewer in number, are still here. Will the griddle cakes yet have their day?
「蒸気まんじゅうは幕末に萩沖に出現する黒船を、まんじゅうにして食べてしまえと気勢を上げるために誕生した萩ならではの伝統菓子。お馴染の鯛焼きを蒸気船の カタチにしたものといえば判りやすいと思います。ただし、鯛焼きの誕生は昭和初期、蒸気まんじゅうは幕末から約１２０年の歴史。かつては町中の屋台で売ら れ、庶民の味として親しまれてきましたが、現在では販売する店も少なくなってきました。」
www.oidemase.or.jp/blog-hagi/2010/09/06/%E8%92%B8%E6%B0%9...
Eastleigh Diesel Depot Open Day,
Hampshire, England.
5 May 1974
Service stock:
Former coaches include AD---752 -7,ex Buffet /Griddle
In background, Breakdown Crane DB965185
74C004_06
I can not for the life of me figure out why it took so long to finally purchase this griddle. The large cooking surface is basically non-stick, and zone heating allows you to cook in this case three dishes at different temps. Dinner cook time around 10 minutes not counting prep. Spuds went on, 4 minutes later the frozen roasted veg went on, 3 minutes later the 4 oz ribeyes, which are cut thinner than a steakhouse ribeye.
Royal Gourmet GB2000 22" ceramic coated griddle.
Under cover is my Blackstone 22" rolled steel griddle and my Weber 2-burner grill. I'll be adding the pizza oven conversion to the Blackstone in the near future.
I got this one for small batch cooking -- just a little bit for my wife and me, or something for me when she is out of town.
Royal Gourmet IMG_2909-1 f
My Daughter brought me Breakfast in Bed today it was.....
Two Warby's Toastie Bread toasted and buttered with Lurpak
Two Warby's Potato Cakes lightly Buttered with Lurpak
Sliced Button Mushrooms Fried on the Griddle in Extra Virgin Olive OIL
Two Rashers of Dried Cured Bacon made Crispy on the Griddle.
Two Poached Happy Eggs.
Two Thick Richmonds Irish Recipe Sausages Split and Fried on the Griddle in olive Oil.
Heinz Baked Beans.
All washed down with a Pint Pot full of Tea made with Two Yorkshire Tea Bags.
56051 bouncing along on 6K38 10:08 Basford Hall Yard FL - Bradwell Up Sidings Colas at Alsager 04/03/2025
Kefir bread is one of the easiest breads ever! All you need is kefir and flour. This is my basic pizza and calzone dough, but it also makes a lovely flat bread when cooked on a cast iron griddle. I've never tried it, but other folks make baked rolls out of this dough too. The final product is sour like good sourdough, but you could cut the kefir with water or milk to make a milder dough. I wouldn't go below 50% kefir though, the kefir is the leavening agent.
Kefir Bread
2 cups dairy or non dairy kefir
Approximately 3 cups of whole wheat or white flour (I've never tried it with non-wheat flours - rye should work great but the gluten allows the bread to rise)
1 tsp salt
Pour the kefir into a big mixing bowl and gradually add the flour stirring with a wooden spoon. When you have added enough that the dough can be kneaded then switch to your hands and keep adding flour. Eventually turn it out on a floured board and knead 10 minutes (it's ok to stop and let it and your hands rest then resume later) or so until the dough is firm and springy. Pull the edges of the ball of dough down to make a tight ball.
Oil your cleaned bowl, put the ball of dough in the bowl and roll it around to get it all greasy. Cover with a towel and let sit overnight.
In the morning pull the dough out of the bowl, sprinkle 1 tsp salt over it and knead again until it is tight. It's best to give it another rise, but you could work with it at this point. If you let it sit then cover the bowl again and the next time you come back reknead it until it is tight again.
When you are ready cut and shape the bowl as you would like. This much dough makes 8 big sized or 12 small calzones or rolls, 2 big pizzas or 1 loaf of bread.
To make flat bread cut the dough into 8 or 12 portions and gently stretch into flat disks. Walk your fingers around the edge of the disk letting the weight of the dough pull the disk thinner. Working through the balls in succession and letting them rest between stretching works great. When they are stretched thin like pizza dough plop onto a hot, lightly oiled cast iron skillet or griddle. Bake until the bottom is browned, flip over and cook a few more minutes until the dough is cooked through. Serve with butter, jam, hummus, chili or any darn thing you want.
Soft and generously-sized, these 100% cotton spa cloths are crocheted in griddle stitch with a shell stitch edging.
For more detail about this click here to read: kitchning.com/how-to-cook-steak-on-blackstone-griddle/
Winnemucca, Nevada - August 5, 2020: Retro neon sign for The Griddle restaurant in the downtown area
The unique BR Mk.I RMB Griddle Car No.E1883 in BR maroon livery; built as an experimental Bar Car (officially Lounge Miniature Buffet Car), Diagram 100, Lot 30784, by BR (Derby) 1968, a very late date for a Mk.I coach and well after the introduction of Mk.II coaches. It was pressure ventilated and presaged many of the features of the Mk.IID coach such as the shallow windows. It was later redesignated a Griddle Car. At Bridgnorth, Severn Valley Railway, 08/01. Scanned photograph taken with a Canon AE-1 Program.
Photo caption: View of the wrecked St. Francis Hotel, from Market Street.
A STRICKEN CITY’S DAY OF TERROR
by James Hopper
When the quake came I was in my room on the third floor of a seven-story brick building in the central part of the city. The thing started without gradation, with a direct violence that left one breathless. "It's incredible." I said, aloud. There was something personal about the attack: it seemed to have a certain vicious intent. My building did not sway; it quivered with a vertical and rotary motion. and there was a sound as of a snarl. I stayed in bed for a long time. as it seemed. I raised myself on my elbow, but even that rudimentary approach to a movement toward escaping seemed so absolutely futile that I lay back again. My head on the pillow watched me stretched and stiffened body dance. It was springing up and down and from side to side like a pancake in the tossing griddle of an experienced French chef. The bureau at the back of the room came toward me. It danced, approaching not directly, but in a zigzag course, with sudden bold advances and as sudden bashful retreats-with little bows, and becks, and nods, with little mincing steps: it was almost funny. The next second, a piece of plaster falling upon my bead made me serious. The quake gave one of its vicious jerks, and I had a sudden clear vision of the whole building dancing. an infernal dance, the loosened bricks separating and clacking to again like chattering teeth. And the quake continued, with a sort of stubborn violence, an immense concentration of its deadly purpose that left one without fear, without horror, without feeling.
“It’s the end," I thought, and a panorama of cataclysms swept through my mind: Pompeii, Lisbon, Krakatoa, Manila, St. Pierre, Samoa, Vesuvius, with San Francisco as a stupendous climax. Then as the thing continued there returned the first feeling of incredulity-incredulity at the mere length of it; then came irri-tation-irritation at the senseless stubbornness of it.
B-r-r-r-r-r-r" went the quake, raising the plane of violence an-other notch. Up to that time I had only felt and seen. Now I seemed to turn on my sense of hearing, as one turns on an electric light, and I heard. I heard the crash of falling buildings, the rumble of avalanching bricks, the groans of tortured girders, and a great curiosity sent me out of my bed, across the tossing floor, to the window. As I arrived at the window, it silently dropped out, sash and all, together with the fire-escape, leaving an unobstructed view. A sky green with dawn was the first thing my eyes lit upon, and the freshness of the sky astounded me. Here I was going through what I thought was an unnamable cataclysm. Yet the sky was placid and dawn-colored, and the buildings were not swaying as I thought they should be--like a palm in a sirocco. Their swaying was moderate, almost prudent.
A vague sense of disillusion came over me. A shadow passed across my line of vision. lt swooped down into the alley at the back of the building and upon the roof of a row of little wooden houses, and went through them as through tissue-paper, leaving gaping holes at which I looked stupidly. The shadow was the brick wall of my upper three stories, which had fallen.
As I realized this, I realized also that the quake had ceased. I began to dress. I am a newspaper man, and I began to think of my paper and my responsibilities toward it. For a second, the thought of the day's toil that lay before me hovered unpleasantly in my mind; but it was followed by the usual resignation. I thought myself absolutely calm, though now, as I look back at the singular things I did, I smile indulgently at my pretensions.
The streets were already full of people--silent, gray-faced peo-ple, with an expression of mild resentment about their lips. I walked slowly down the street, taking notes of injured buildings that seemed to me of value for the paper we should get out that day. First 1 went into the alley where the buildings had been crushed by my wall. The houses seemed deserted. and my calls met with no response. Across the street the two upper stories of a building in course of erection had collapsed. I noted that. All the way down Post Street buildings were injured in various ways. I noted them all conscientiously. I went into the Olympic Athletic Club. The swimming-tank had been shaken as if it had been a glass held by a palsied hand, and had splashed water all over the first floor.
It was as if the great city had decided absolutely to ignore the disaster, as if with some vague pathetic hope that· if it resolutely went on with the routine it loved. the whole thing would prove a nightmare from which the city would presently radiantly awaken. Also, it was stupefied. That diabolical earth-quake had given us such a shake, that long minute had been such mental torture, that our brains were numb. We did not realize the extent of what had happened and was happening. and we were never to do so. The disaster was one long, three days pro-gression; by the time one phase of it was grasped it had swept on to another, and when it was all over the entirety was so colossal as to he beyond the immediate realization of human minds. The destruction of San Francisco will always remain a vague, chaotic, and sombre nightmare.
A part of the giant automaton which the city had become, I kept on my way to my paper. Here and there something which absolutely forced itself upon 111y attention stopped me, but always my purpose returned uppermost. At Union Square my attention was arrested by the sight of a man in pink pajamas walking heel and toe in his bare feet, in a continuous circling of the Dewey column; also by a tall, English-looking man with flowing whiskers, clad in a long white nightshirt, who sat on a bench, perpetually replacing in the orbit of his left eye a monocle which an involuntary contraction im-mediately twitched off again. At the corner of Geary and Stockton streets I helped some people out of the wreckage of a wooden hotel upon which a steel sky-scraper had dropped one of its walls. Some were alive, others dying, and we left some dead beneath piles of brick twenty feet deep. But on the whole, my course was toward my paper. As l neared it the sun rose, a red wafer behind heavy spirals of smoke. I knew that the water-mains were broken. “The city is gone," l said to myself; but really I did not believe it.
When I reached the Call, my city editor was standing before the door. "The plant is badly shaken up;' he said. "It will be hard to get the paper out today" An hour later the whole building was burning; three hours later the Call, Chronicle, and Examiner were destroyed. By night every printing-plant in the city was molten metal.
I went down Third Street. and there I saw starting the fire which was to sweep the southern_ half of the city. The streets in that district are alternately broad avenues and narrow alleys. I saw the fire rushing up the narrow ways with a snarling sound as of a starving dog springing upon a bone.
At times the fresh eastern breeze caught it, and then it fairly steeplechased, its scarlet jacket bulging and snapping. Here and there in its path, as far as I could see, were some of the humble cottages of that quarter, which had fallen down like stacks of cards. And there, like a flash. I had a vision of the tragedy: the earthquake first, with the red cloak of fire thrown like a mantle of hypocrisy over its ravages, and the results forever a poignant mystery. I got an automobile. Thenceforth the thing is a· night-mare. We whirled around the fire, four of us, for three days. We circled it and circled it, a, prey lo its terrors, and the circle, con-tinuously widening, threw us out further into the suburbs. It was a phantasmagoria, of destruction. We eat a sausage here, a cracker there; we wrote upon our knees in haste. throwing the
copy into a launch impatient for the presses across the bay: we rescued. carried wounded, helped to vacate burning hospitals: but through it all we circled that fire. circled and circled it as if fasci-nated. and the last time we circled it, at the end of the third day, our register, which started at zero, marked off twenty-six miles when we had returned to the starting-point.
Out of that experience, several pictures remain detached . but vivid. At Fourth and Folsom Streets. by some freak, a hydrant was still giving out water. I still see the firemen who stood there, rushing a hose down the street flaming on both sides; I can see their chief standing at the corner. his white helmet rosy with the flame, his long slicker dripping, his mouth pouring out a volley of jolly oaths, and then these men, the hose upon their shoulders, their helmets tilted toward the terrific heat, rushing in between the roaring walls. The whole city, mind you, is burning beyond them. They have one hose, one stream of water; they are four. It was something big, the very futility of their effort, of their immense determination to do, with their whole world crashnig to ruins about them, their single duty-to fight to the last, the hopeless fight.
On Valencia ·Street, at the corner of Eighteenth, a four-story wooden hotel collapsed, and now seems but one story high. Upon the ruins four policemen and fifty volunteers are working: I see them, a rope noosed about a fallen partition, tugging in concert. A hundred men are buried in those ruins. The fire is only a few blocks away. They tug, their yellow faces distorted with the effort, beads of cold perspiration welling from their pores. At intervals they stop, all of them; they look toward the fire, their weary faces rosied with the glow, puckering in an expression of anxiety almost simian, and then with new courage they tug again, and the whole ruins shake-and the next time we pass there they are gone. and the ruins are but a base of a great flame twisting toward heaven.
The dazed population are fleeing the city which has failed to harbor them. They patter along by thousands, silent, stupefied. The men carry little bundles or drag boxes behind them. The women carry babies, and older children toddle after them, hang-ing to their skirts. These children bear their pets-a. kitten, a pup, a, canary in its cage. There is no panic, no jostling, no running, no trampling. They simply march, heavy-stepped, and some-how the very calm of it is far worse than the hysteria of panic. It tells of greater tragedy, of more complete hopelessness. The faces are of stone, the eyes are dead, there is no revolt; and behind, its advance comber curling almost above them, the great tidal wave of fire.
At the end of the third day I was standing on the top of Russian Hill. The fire had then swept the city, but was still burning in the North Beach district. To the south, a little be-low me, was the Jones Street hill. A strange hallucination pos-sessed me. I thought T heard strains of music. It was no hallu-cination. Up on the tip top of the Jones Street hill, in the middle of the street, the only thing standing for miles, was a piano. A man was playing on it; I could see his hands rising and falling, His body swaying. In the wind his long black hair and a loosened red tie at his neck streamed. The wind bore the sounds away from me, but in a lull I finally heard the music. It was Saint- Saens's "Danse Macabre"-the death dance. His hands beat up and down, his bodv swayed. his hair steamed. and from the crest down over the devastated city, like a cascade, poured the notes with their sound of shaken dry bones.
Grilled on a griddle with a pot lid over it, this delicious toasted sandwich had a 1/4-inch thick ham steak, thin slices of tomato and Tillamook Swiss cheese on it. I buttered the outsides of the wheat berry bread before grilling. Totally wonderful!
nomnom
Recipe:
1 cup flour
1 tablespoon raw sugar
2 tablespoons baking powder
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 cup almond milk
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 cup of blueberries
Mix all ingredients but berries-once completely mixed, fold in the berries.
Oil a cast iron skillet and pour in the batter. Bake at 350 degrees 20 minutes or more (until it is the color you like).
Serves 2
Griddle or drop scones after being rolled out on a board. Rolling pin in the background.
Scones are a tradition in New Zealand kitchens.
Griddle or girdle scones are rolled thinly and cooked in a frying pan or on a griddle iron.
Griddled hotcake served with maple syrup, scrambled egg, chicken sausage and cherry tomato.
In economy class.
I just ate the dinner roll because..... I'm saving my tummy for plates upon plates of chicken rice when I arrive!!! Chicken rice here I come!
Oh ya, btw, I'm in Singapore for 12 hours and then I'm on my way to Cairo.
Photo caption: What is left of the Hibernia Savings Bank
A STRICKEN CITY’S DAY OF TERROR
by James Hopper
When the quake came I was in my room on the third floor of a seven-story brick building in the central part of the city. The thing started without gradation, with a direct violence that left one breathless. "It's incredible." I said, aloud. There was something personal about the attack: it seemed to have a certain vicious intent. My building did not sway; it quivered with a vertical and rotary motion. and there was a sound as of a snarl. I stayed in bed for a long time. as it seemed. I raised myself on my elbow, but even that rudimentary approach to a movement toward escaping seemed so absolutely futile that I lay back again. My head on the pillow watched me stretched and stiffened body dance. It was springing up and down and from side to side like a pancake in the tossing griddle of an experienced French chef. The bureau at the back of the room came toward me. It danced, approaching not directly, but in a zigzag course, with sudden bold advances and as sudden bashful retreats-with little bows, and becks, and nods, with little mincing steps: it was almost funny. The next second, a piece of plaster falling upon my bead made me serious. The quake gave one of its vicious jerks, and I had a sudden clear vision of the whole building dancing. an infernal dance, the loosened bricks separating and clacking to again like chattering teeth. And the quake continued, with a sort of stubborn violence, an immense concentration of its deadly purpose that left one without fear, without horror, without feeling.
“It’s the end," I thought, and a panorama of cataclysms swept through my mind: Pompeii, Lisbon, Krakatoa, Manila, St. Pierre, Samoa, Vesuvius, with San Francisco as a stupendous climax. Then as the thing continued there returned the first feeling of incredulity-incredulity at the mere length of it; then came irri-tation-irritation at the senseless stubbornness of it.
B-r-r-r-r-r-r" went the quake, raising the plane of violence an-other notch. Up to that time I had only felt and seen. Now I seemed to turn on my sense of hearing, as one turns on an electric light, and I heard. I heard the crash of falling buildings, the rumble of avalanching bricks, the groans of tortured girders, and a great curiosity sent me out of my bed, across the tossing floor, to the window. As I arrived at the window, it silently dropped out, sash and all, together with the fire-escape, leaving an unobstructed view. A sky green with dawn was the first thing my eyes lit upon, and the freshness of the sky astounded me. Here I was going through what I thought was an unnamable cataclysm. Yet the sky was placid and dawn-colored, and the buildings were not swaying as I thought they should be--like a palm in a sirocco. Their swaying was moderate, almost prudent.
A vague sense of disillusion came over me. A shadow passed across my line of vision. lt swooped down into the alley at the back of the building and upon the roof of a row of little wooden houses, and went through them as through tissue-paper, leaving gaping holes at which I looked stupidly. The shadow was the brick wall of my upper three stories, which had fallen.
As I realized this, I realized also that the quake had ceased. I began to dress. I am a newspaper man, and I began to think of my paper and my responsibilities toward it. For a second, the thought of the day's toil that lay before me hovered unpleasantly in my mind; but it was followed by the usual resignation. I thought myself absolutely calm, though now, as I look back at the singular things I did, I smile indulgently at my pretensions.
The streets were already full of people--silent, gray-faced peo-ple, with an expression of mild resentment about their lips. I walked slowly down the street, taking notes of injured buildings that seemed to me of value for the paper we should get out that day. First 1 went into the alley where the buildings had been crushed by my wall. The houses seemed deserted. and my calls met with no response. Across the street the two upper stories of a building in course of erection had collapsed. I noted that. All the way down Post Street buildings were injured in various ways. I noted them all conscientiously. I went into the Olympic Athletic Club. The swimming-tank had been shaken as if it had been a glass held by a palsied hand, and had splashed water all over the first floor.
It was as if the great city had decided absolutely to ignore the disaster, as if with some vague pathetic hope that· if it resolutely went on with the routine it loved. the whole thing would prove a nightmare from which the city would presently radiantly awaken. Also, it was stupefied. That diabolical earth-quake had given us such a shake, that long minute had been such mental torture, that our brains were numb. We did not realize the extent of what had happened and was happening. and we were never to do so. The disaster was one long, three days pro-gression; by the time one phase of it was grasped it had swept on to another, and when it was all over the entirety was so colossal as to he beyond the immediate realization of human minds. The destruction of San Francisco will always remain a vague, chaotic, and sombre nightmare.
A part of the giant automaton which the city had become, I kept on my way to my paper. Here and there something which absolutely forced itself upon 111y attention stopped me, but always my purpose returned uppermost. At Union Square my attention was arrested by the sight of a man in pink pajamas walking heel and toe in his bare feet, in a continuous circling of the Dewey column; also by a tall, English-looking man with flowing whiskers, clad in a long white nightshirt, who sat on a bench, perpetually replacing in the orbit of his left eye a monocle which an involuntary contraction im-mediately twitched off again. At the corner of Geary and Stockton streets I helped some people out of the wreckage of a wooden hotel upon which a steel sky-scraper had dropped one of its walls. Some were alive, others dying, and we left some dead beneath piles of brick twenty feet deep. But on the whole, my course was toward my paper. As l neared it the sun rose, a red wafer behind heavy spirals of smoke. I knew that the water-mains were broken. “The city is gone," l said to myself; but really I did not believe it.
When I reached the Call, my city editor was standing before the door. "The plant is badly shaken up;' he said. "It will be hard to get the paper out today" An hour later the whole building was burning; three hours later the Call, Chronicle, and Examiner were destroyed. By night every printing-plant in the city was molten metal.
I went down Third Street. and there I saw starting the fire which was to sweep the southern_ half of the city. The streets in that district are alternately broad avenues and narrow alleys. I saw the fire rushing up the narrow ways with a snarling sound as of a starving dog springing upon a bone.
At times the fresh eastern breeze caught it, and then it fairly steeplechased, its scarlet jacket bulging and snapping. Here and there in its path, as far as I could see, were some of the humble cottages of that quarter, which had fallen down like stacks of cards. And there, like a flash. I had a vision of the tragedy: the earthquake first, with the red cloak of fire thrown like a mantle of hypocrisy over its ravages, and the results forever a poignant mystery. I got an automobile. Thenceforth the thing is a· night-mare. We whirled around the fire, four of us, for three days. We circled it and circled it, a, prey lo its terrors, and the circle, con-tinuously widening, threw us out further into the suburbs. It was a phantasmagoria, of destruction. We eat a sausage here, a cracker there; we wrote upon our knees in haste. throwing the
copy into a launch impatient for the presses across the bay: we rescued. carried wounded, helped to vacate burning hospitals: but through it all we circled that fire. circled and circled it as if fasci-nated. and the last time we circled it, at the end of the third day, our register, which started at zero, marked off twenty-six miles when we had returned to the starting-point.
Out of that experience, several pictures remain detached . but vivid. At Fourth and Folsom Streets. by some freak, a hydrant was still giving out water. I still see the firemen who stood there, rushing a hose down the street flaming on both sides; I can see their chief standing at the corner. his white helmet rosy with the flame, his long slicker dripping, his mouth pouring out a volley of jolly oaths, and then these men, the hose upon their shoulders, their helmets tilted toward the terrific heat, rushing in between the roaring walls. The whole city, mind you, is burning beyond them. They have one hose, one stream of water; they are four. It was something big, the very futility of their effort, of their immense determination to do, with their whole world crashnig to ruins about them, their single duty-to fight to the last, the hopeless fight.
On Valencia ·Street, at the corner of Eighteenth, a four-story wooden hotel collapsed, and now seems but one story high. Upon the ruins four policemen and fifty volunteers are working: I see them, a rope noosed about a fallen partition, tugging in concert. A hundred men are buried in those ruins. The fire is only a few blocks away. They tug, their yellow faces distorted with the effort, beads of cold perspiration welling from their pores. At intervals they stop, all of them; they look toward the fire, their weary faces rosied with the glow, puckering in an expression of anxiety almost simian, and then with new courage they tug again, and the whole ruins shake-and the next time we pass there they are gone. and the ruins are but a base of a great flame twisting toward heaven.
The dazed population are fleeing the city which has failed to harbor them. They patter along by thousands, silent, stupefied. The men carry little bundles or drag boxes behind them. The women carry babies, and older children toddle after them, hang-ing to their skirts. These children bear their pets-a. kitten, a pup, a, canary in its cage. There is no panic, no jostling, no running, no trampling. They simply march, heavy-stepped, and some-how the very calm of it is far worse than the hysteria of panic. It tells of greater tragedy, of more complete hopelessness. The faces are of stone, the eyes are dead, there is no revolt; and behind, its advance comber curling almost above them, the great tidal wave of fire.
At the end of the third day I was standing on the top of Russian Hill. The fire had then swept the city, but was still burning in the North Beach district. To the south, a little be-low me, was the Jones Street hill. A strange hallucination pos-sessed me. I thought T heard strains of music. It was no hallu-cination. Up on the tip top of the Jones Street hill, in the middle of the street, the only thing standing for miles, was a piano. A man was playing on it; I could see his hands rising and falling, His body swaying. In the wind his long black hair and a loosened red tie at his neck streamed. The wind bore the sounds away from me, but in a lull I finally heard the music. It was Saint- Saens's "Danse Macabre"-the death dance. His hands beat up and down, his bodv swayed. his hair steamed. and from the crest down over the devastated city, like a cascade, poured the notes with their sound of shaken dry bones.