Tag Archives: Food

My First May Fest

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The oldest choral festival in North America will celebrate its 150th birthday next year. It came frightfully close to reaching that awesome landmark without me ever having been present at a single performance. Both it and I were spared what would have been a truly embarrassing occurrence by my attendance on Friday. I am speaking, of course, of Cincinnati’s May Festival which was first held in 1873.

The venue was Cincinnati’s Music Hall. The festival and building have an interesting and possibly unique relationship with the event actually being responsible for the existence of the structure. Before the May Festival became an annual event in 1967 it was generally held every other year. The first two were in 1873 and 1875. Both were held in a large building called Saengerfest Hall. Rain was a minor problem in 1873 and became a major one in 1875. It wasn’t that patrons got wet but that they could not hear the music during the brief time that it fell in 1873 or the much longer period of rainfall in 1875. Amplified by the tin roof of Saengerfest Hall, the rain forced the performance to be paused. It also gave rise to a project to construct the brick building that has been home to the festival since 1878.

Only one of this year’s four major performances fit into my schedule. It turned out to be probably the worst fit for my tastes. There are many things that divide the world’s population and one of them is opera. I am a member of the unappreciative group. But, even though it’s quite likely I would have enjoyed a different program more, there was much to enjoy in Friday’s performance. And I did. For one thing, I believe it was the first time I had ever watched a composer conduct his own composition. I guess John Adams conducting El Niño could be considered the black-tie version of a more-familiar-to-me performance by a singer-songwriter. As always, the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra sounded superb and the 100+ voices of the May Festival Chorus sounded as wonderful as I’d hoped. The main chorus sat through long periods of inactivity then rose in unison to sing. Each of them held a copy of the libretto so that their risings had the appearance of a large flock of attacking seagulls. I found myself enjoying that more than I probably should have.

Before the concert, I walked a few blocks from Music Hall to enjoy another Cincinnati tradition. Scotti’s isn’t quite as old as the May Festival but it’s working on it. After studying the stuffed menu for some time, I went with Lasagna Ala Don Giovanni.

Fried or Roasted Daily

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I usually try rather hard to avoid chain restaurants but here’s one I went to less than a week after it opened. Not the chain — which opened in 2012 — but the latest link. Florida-based Ford’s Garage opened its first Ohio restaurant in the former LeBlond Machine Tool Company powerhouse in Norwood on Thursday, May 5. I stopped in the following Wednesday.

The first I became aware of the chain was when I read an announcement about this one being planned for Cincinnati. Of course, any restaurant featuring ‘burgers and beers has a good chance of catching my attention but it sounded like this place had a little more going for it. It is an official licensee of the Ford Motor Company which allows it to use the Ford name and logo and it uses Ford cars for decoration. It was obviously a place I was likely to visit eventually so I decided to do it sooner rather than later.

The 1917 powerhouse, which was most recently occupied by a Don Pablo’s, is accessorized to resemble an early service station. Gas pumps and a pair of Model A Fords stand near the entrance and there is a Model T and another Model A inside. The cars and the building are of similar vintage. A Library of Congress photo shows the building when it was younger.

The building’s high ceilings allow faux Fords to circulate around the restaurant on a simulated assembly line and a stationary Model A hangs over the bar. A penny-covered wall holds forty beer taps. As I was taking the picture of the taps, a restaurant employee told me there were 21,004 pennies on the wall. I have a suspicion he made that up on the spot but I’m not sure so I’m repeating it.

Of course, it takes more than decor to make a restaurant. There’s a lot more than hamburgers on the menu but that’s sort of their featured item so that’s what I ordered. This is the quite tasty Mushroom & (Tillamook) Swiss. A couple of other things in this picture deserve mention. One is the shop towel napkin inside the hose clamp. The second is the frost-covered surface beneath the West Sixth Porter. About eight years ago I saw a similar setup in a bar in Kingman, Arizona, and figured it would be in every watering hole in the country before I got home. But this is the only other one I’ve ever seen which is not much help at all to my reputation as a futurist.

Despite it being a chain with a plethora of gimmicks, I basically liked the place. The chain is fairly small with twenty stores in five states and the gimmicks are mostly harmless (the napkins) or cool (the cars). One gimmick, however, seemed a bit overly silly to me. I noticed the funnel behind the bar and had vague intentions of asking about it when I overheard one of the bartenders talking about it with a visiting friend. He flipped an unseen switch to open a valve in the transmission (He called it the crankcase.) that allowed some liquid to drop into the funnel and into a glass placed below it. He said it was for a drink called the “Oil Change” although I’ve found no such drink on the menu. As I said, it struck me as quite silly but who am I (a fan of Max & Erma’s double-breasted beer taps) to judge.

Celebrating

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Tuesday was my birthday, and there was a blog post that day more or less announcing it and revealing that I had removed from my body the only thing about it that was getting thinner. This post describes the far-ranging travel and wild celebration that filled the day. The party actually started in early morning when I met my buddy John for breakfast in Wilmington. I left there thinking I might follow US-22 all the way to Steubenville but a prediction of rain prompted me to switch to a shorter path using US-62 at Washington Courthouse, and congestion, as I neared Columbus, nudged me onto a faster expressway route. In fact, I gave myself up to the GPS at that point and Garmin kept me on I-71 until I reached US-30 near Mansfield.

I continued blindly following the voice in the box until a glimpse of a semi-familiar cheese shop brought me to my senses. Shisler’s Cheese House is a place I normally associate with the Lincoln Highway so, after picking up some Swiss and cheddar to munch on later, I sought out a few bits of the old road. I made a side trip in Canton but returned to the old Lincoln and the brick Baywood Street in Robertsville.

The target of my Canton excursion was Fat Head’s newest brewpub at the north edge of town. Fat Head’s started in Pittsburgh, PA, in 1992 and opened this location, their fourth, in 2018. That’s Black Knight Schwarzbier in the glass.

The place that the GPS had been leading me to was the Spread Eagle Tavern in Hanoverton. The picture at the top of this post is of the tavern’s sign. Hanoverton is a Lincoln Highway town so I’ve stopped at the Spread Eagle several times. I have eaten there once but had never stayed there. I corrected that by spending Tuesday night in the Van Buren Room. It’s the inn’s smallest in both space and price but was more than adequate for me.

Between check-in and dinner, I was able to see familiar rooms empty for the first time and make first-time visits to some other spaces. This second group included the lower level rathskeller which is currently open only on Fridays and Saturdays. The tavern first opened in 1837 but had fallen into disrepair until a major restoration took place in the late 1980s. Additions and improvements (such as converting the dirt-floored basement to the brick-lined rathskeller) happened, but all materials came from either the tavern itself or other badly neglected buildings from the same period.

I ate dinner at a table just out of frame on the left side of this picture and breakfast just out of frame on the right. I failed to get a picture of breakfast which is truly sad because it was one of the best breakfasts I’ve ever had and it was included with the room. I was just too busy chatting with Kim, my server, about the building and other topics both related and not. I had been better prepared at dinner and did get a snapshot of my wonderful walleye by candlelight. 

Benny’s Back

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The last Saturday of January 2021 came and went without fireworks or other hoopla in Buckeye Lake, Ohio. That’s normally the day of the Buckeye Lake Winterfest but the event, like so many others, fell victim to COVID-19. Interestingly, the previous year’s Winterfest was one of the last pre-pandemic events I attended. The blog entry is here. A December 2020 newspaper article announcing the postponement said organizers were hoping to hold the event in the spring but that seems not to have happened. What attracted me to the event in the first place was its use of Benny the Bass in a Puxsuntawny Phil style role in predicting the timing of warmer weather. Last year, people were not nearly as interested in when winter would end as when the pandemic would. That may actually be true this year as well, but Benny was back on the job in any case.

I was on my way north long before dawn was even thinking about cracking. In 2020, I parked near the brewery and walked to and from the park where Benny makes his prediction. This year, with snow on the ground and near-zero temperatures, I had no desire to do much walking and drove directly to the park. There were a few cars present when I arrived but not many. Before getting out of my car, I decided to drive to the other side of town for coffee.

By the time I returned, Benny and quite a few fans had arrived. I managed to get the closeup of the real Benny at the top of this post before it got too crowded, and I got a shot of the mascot Benny — but not a very good one — a bit later. Removing a glove to take pictures was something I kept to a minimum and taking pictures with both gloves on was something that kept picture quality to a minimum.

In the predawn darkness, the shadow-based method of predicting that groundhogs employ is useless. Instead, a bunch of minnows is dumped into Benny’s tank and a one-minute countdown begins. If the time expires without Benny downing a minnow, six more weeks of winter is to be expected. If a minnow is gone before the time is, we’ll have an early spring. Either way, we get fireworks.

In 2020, the crowd chanted “Eat it, Benny”. This year they seemed too cold to chant much of anything despite the MC leading the more official “Take the Bait. Spring can’t wait.” cheer. That, plus repeated playings of the new Winterfest song, may have done the trick. All the minnows survived until the thirty-second warning and several seconds longer but then…

I took the picture of Benny’s tank and prediction once the area was sufficiently clear of bodies to get a clear view. Once the park was sufficiently clear of cars that I could get out of my parking space, I drove directly to Our Lakeside Diner for the traditional (It is now!) perch and eggs breakfast. Incidentally, this place definitely knows how to serve coffee.

Then it was down the street to the Buckeye Lake Brewery for another tradition. When I was here in 2020, I delayed having a beer until I had walked around the town quite a bit. This year, despite a fourfold increase in temperature since I’d arrived, I had no desire for a stroll of any length. So the perch was quickly followed by a Winterfest Ale and that was quickly followed by my departure for home.

Book Review
Isaly’s Chipped Ham, Klondikes…
Brian Butko

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It’s been said you should write what you know. Brian Butko may or may not believe that but there is reason to think he might believe even more in the corollary: Write what you want to know. I frequently get the impression that Butko enjoys the hunt as much as the kill, research as much as publishing, learning as much as teaching. Isaly’s Chipped Ham, Klondikes, and Other Tales from Behind the Counter gives me that impression in spades. This is Butko’s second run at the subject having published Klondikes, Chipped Ham, & Skyscraper Cones: The Story of Isaly’s in 2001. I’m not familiar with the earlier book but know that there is some unavoidable overlap. No surprise there. There is no doubt a multitude of reasons for the redo but I’ll suggest — and this is pure conjecture — that not only was it tackled in order to improve the story with knowledge learned in the intervening twenty years but as an excuse to learn even more.

In the middle half of the twentieth century, Isaly’s was a major regional presence whose farms, factories, and stores helped feed a whole lot of people in northeast Ohio and northwest Pennsylvania. The arc of that presence is not unique. It was a family business that saw the success and growth of the first few generations eventually fade away in corporate buyouts. I’ve lived in Ohio my entire life but we missed each other. My neighborhood has been the state’s southwest corner, and the closest Isaly’s ever came to my home was Columbus. Although a few Columbus stores remained in the late 1960s and it’s possible that I saw one, I have no memory of it. The company entered Columbus in 1935, peaked there in the 1940s, and officially began its exit in 1954. Everything I know about Isaly’s I learned from Brian Butko. Brian Butko learned from family members, former employees, company records, newspapers, and libraries. 

There was plenty to learn. Isaly’s operated dairy farms, manufacturing and packing plants, home delivery routes, and stores that ranged from ice cream stands to delis and restaurants. Milk, cheese, butter, and ice cream were the most notable items they produced. They rebranded coffee, soft drinks, chips, pretzels, and more. They served chopped ham in a way that made it their own.

The ham thing is a great example of the innovation that marked Isaly’s early history. Chopped ham is made by boiling pieces of ham and pressing them into a loaf. A patent for the process was filed in 1937 and granted in 1939. By the end of that same year, Isaly’s was serving it sliced extremely thin. The technique is called chipping. It eliminated chopped ham’s inherent toughness and was an instant success. It wasn’t long before ham sales exceeded ice cream sales. Isaly’s trademarked the term “Chipped Chopped Ham” in 1960. 

There were other innovations such as Skyscraper Cones, Party Slices, and Klondike Bars. Klondike Bars were the biggie. The only Isaly’s product to have success nationally, they are still available today although they are made by Unilever and no longer bear the Isaly’s name. They do, however, still bear the Isaly’s bear.

Butko makes all this learning fun. The book, both outside and in, is colorful and just looks like fun. Old and new photos abound along with reproductions of advertisements and various newspaper items. This is not a company history presented chronologically. It’s the story of people, places, and products presented in bite-sized pieces. Every chapter contains an even number of pages (either 2 or 4) so that each begins on a left-hand page with a colorful — and sometimes playful — title. The short chapters might make it easy to leave the book and return but they are so tasty that I bet you can’t read just one.

Unlike me, Brian has plenty of personal Isaly’s memories. He says that his earliest was of their macaroni and cheese. His excitement is evident when given access to a 3-ring binder of company recipes. He finds the sought-after Baked Macroni then writes, “I have yet to try the official recipe…”.  The fact that the recipe yields 60  servings might be one deterrent but I think I also detect a little fear that today’s result might not live up to yesterday’s memories. I, for one, encourage Brian to face his fear and look that macaroni right in the elbow. Finding 59 mac & cheese eaters should be easy.

Isaly’s Chipped Ham, Klondikes, and Other Tales from Behind the Counter, Brian Butko, Senator John Heinz History Center (2021), 9 x 9 inches, 148 pages, ISBN 978-0936340319

Available at the Heinz History Center in Pittsburg, PA, or their online store here

More Smooth As Glass

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About a month ago, a visit to Jack Pine’s Glass Pumpkin Festival yielded a blog post in which I lamented losing an SD card containing “phenomenal photos”. That card has reappeared and, even though my claims of phenomenality will suffer for it, I’m super happy to share some of its contents. For those who missed it or want to refresh their memories, the original post is here.

In my lament, I mentioned ice cream and music, and here is proof of both. The ice cream was quite good. Perhaps because it wasn’t overly pumpkiny. So was the music, but, sadly, I don’t know the name of the fellow entertaining us. If I heard it at the festival, I’ve forgotten, and, while the online schedule is still accessible, it shows a gap between 2:00 and 4:30. The picture was taken about 3:25.

Numerous artists were offering items for sale at the festival and not everything was made of glass and resembled a pumpkin. There were also some vendors selling food at the festival but none that made me want to take a picture.

But, yeah, glass items dominate the festival. It is, after all, hosted by a glass studio. At first glance, things that resemble pumpkins might also seem to dominate the festival, but I’m not so sure. Outside of the Jack Pine Pumpkin Patch, there sure are lots of non-pumpkin pieces.

Several artists were at work inside the studio making glass pumpkins. They would frequently hold out their work as it progressed and explain what they were doing. These non-stop demonstrations alone were easily worth the drive and the price of admission, and the items produced really are phenomenal even if these pictures aren’t.    

Kim’s (Is) Back

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Not only is Kim’s Classic Diner back in operation, owner Kim Starr is back at the helm. After years of wanting to own a diner, a few more years shopping for the right one, and another year moving and rehabbing a 1946 Silk City, Kim seemed to be living her dream. That dream, however, was put on hold about a dozen years ago so that Kim could devote all of her energy to helping her daughter deal with life-threatening heart and lung issues. Now it is those threats that have been put on hold — hopefully forever — as daughter helps mom bring her diner back to life.

There were attempts to keep things going without Kim’s involvement. Over the years, the diner was leased to three different operators but all three failed as a business, a responsible leasee, or both. I remember two of them but must have missed the third one entirely. I know it can’t be easy to make a classic diner go in a town of well under 3,000, but every time I drove through Sabina and past the closed business, I thought to myself that this place would be hopping if Kim was still here.

Well, Kim is here now, and while the place may not yet be hopping all the time, it apparently is some of the time. Employees spoke of being “swamped” on occasion and a scan of the diner’s Facebook page shows that the daily specials have “SOLD OUT” more than once since the August 20 reopening. I was there on Friday for breakfast. It wasn’t swamped but I sure was not alone. I did my normal dawdling while other customers came and went and I think there were always between five and ten people eating with me.

My Friday visit was just one day shy of the eighteenth anniversary of the original opening. One of the reasons Kim had picked the second anniversary of the 2001 terrorist attacks for her opening date was the diner’s New York history. I was happy to see articles about that history back on the walls and especially happy to see that three mugs from those days (delivered to Kim by a visiting waitress) were back on the shelf. These were among the items that had gone home with Kim for safekeeping during her absence from the diner.

In addition to being one of the coolest diners within my extended neighborhood (It’s about 40 miles straight up US-22), Kim’s is special to me for another reason. It was the subject of the first of four Diner Days articles I wrote for American Road Magazine between 2006 and 2008. It was, in fact, the very first thing of mine published to the general public. In that article, I spoke of the use of car names for breakfast selections, and I am happy to report that that is once more the case. This time I had a Mercury.   

Cincy Burger1/2Week

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The first day of this year’s Cincinnati Burger Week was basically over before I got back into town and I spent the second day otherwise engaged. It was Wednesday before I made my first CBW 2021 stop but I still managed to equal last year’s number of new-to-me ‘burger joints (3) along with one repeat. 2020 saw my first visit to the lone repeat so it was an almost-new-to-me burger joint. The 2021 Cincinnati event is about a month earlier than the 2020 event and I found no mention of the statewide involvement that was touted a year ago. I have no idea what that means. It’s just something I noticed.

That first stop was at Blondie’s Sports Bar & Grill where I washed down their offering with a Fat Tire. That offering was a “Burger served in a toasted pretzel bun, bacon, sautéed onions, and beer cheese.” Good eating.

Stop number two was at a new-to-everybody place. Miamiville Trailyard has been open only a couple of months. The ‘burger is “a custom blend of fresh Chuck, Brisket, and Short Rib. Served on a toasted brioche bun with provolone, onion straws and a delicious bourbon Sriracha sauce.” I had mine with a Garage Beer from Braxton Brewing. The Trailyard is right next to the Little Miami Scenic Bike Trail and has a really big yard that I think I’d like to sip some more beer in before the summer is over.

On Friday, I joined friends Rick and Mary at Frenchie Fresh where ‘burgers and birthdays (Mary’s) collide. This was my repeat from last year. Even though the location was a repeat, the ‘burger was not. That’s a Triangle Bacon Black and Blue Burger (blackened with Triangle bacon, barbecue sauce and blue cheese) which was accompanied by a Guinness. Frenchie Fresh offered three choices this year and by pure coincidence, we tried them all. It was the TBBBB for me, Le Pig City for Rick, and Le Gene Kelly for Mary. Strange but true.

I had my final ‘burger of the week at that southeast outlier on the map. It’s the Ugly Goat Social Club which puts it near the edge of the alphabet as well as the edge of the map. They describe their hamburger as an “Unusual Spice Combo In Ground Beef & Pork, Topped With Cheese.” Quite good and I’m thinking that if all the patties I tried were served naked, this one would likely win the flavor contest. I chased this one with an event sponsor’s beer.

Cincinnati Burger week really is a week long, Monday through Sunday, which means it will still be going on when this blog entry is published. And that means you can read this and still down a few of these gems before closing time. ¡Arriba, arriba! ¡Ándale, ándale!

That’s All, Brother

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Lt. Col. John M. Donalson named his C‑47 “That’s All, Brother” as something of a declaration that the Nazi’s success in Europe was just about over. Then he used it to lead more than 800 aircraft loaded with paratroopers across the English Channel to confront those Nazis on the night of June 5, 1944. When I heard that the plane was coming to the National Museum of the United States Air Force on Tuesday, I thought I might be interested in seeing it. When I woke up a couple of hours ahead of its estimated arrival time, I decided that I was interested in seeing it land.

A one-hour window had been announced for the landing and the plane appeared just about in the middle of that window. It made one pass over the runway without landing. Maybe that was so the pilot could scope things out or maybe it was so people on the ground could take pictures like the one at the top of this article. It then circled the museum and dropped onto the runway without a hiccup. Even with a chainlink fence in front of me, I was able to get a shot of the big airplane slipping safely between a water tower and a tractor-trailer.

The museum’s announcement said that the plane would be available for up-close viewing, inside and out, once it was on the ground and parked. Inside viewing would be limited to two at a time. I figured there would be a long and — with the two viewer limit — slow-moving line to get inside the plane so I anticipated not doing that. I did walk out to the plane, however, to get a closer look and better photos. Next to the plane, T-shirts and other merchandise were being sold from a van. It’s a Mercedes. Maybe no one other than me saw the irony in that, and even I am unsure whether using a German vehicle with D-D stripes to support a U.S. WWII military plane is a major insult or simply cynical.

The line was not as long as I feared and the two-person limit was not in place although there was an effort to maintain social distancing and a mask requirement was being strictly enforced. The C-47 is a military version of the DC-3 so it isn’t completely unfamiliar. Of course, passengers seating in the DC-3s I’ve seen looked considerably more comfortable than this. Information on this plane’s history and future can be found at “That’s All, Brother”.

There was a lull in the boarding right after I exited the plane, and I was able to get a shot of the door. One of the operations “That’s All, Brother” was involved in after D-Day was dropping supplies in relief of the siege of Bastogne during the Battle of the Bulge. With a touch of awe in his voice, the docent inside the plane pointed out that those supplies were thrown out this very door.

I could say that I took these pictures after checking out “That’s All, Brother”, but the truth is that there was a fair amount of time between the plane’s landing and it being available, and that’s when I went inside the museum. These pictures are, in fact, out of sequence. There are a few hundred aircraft displayed at the museum. Like “That’s All, Brother”, these are three with a WWII connection. The all-volunteer Flying Tigers, organized to fight in China before the U.S. entered the war used Curtiss P-40s. The C-47 in the middle picture was the last in routine USAF use. “Bockscar” is the name of the Boeing B-29 Superfortress that dropped an atomic bomb on Nagasaki on August 9, 1945. A mockup of that bomb, named “Fat Man”, is displayed beside it.

I’ve visited the museum several times and actually spent less time inside it today than on almost any other visit. But, for some unknown reason, I was really struck today by the amount of money, energy, and intelligence that has been devoted to creating machines whose sole purpose is the destruction of other machines — and people.

A friend called on Friday evening to tell me about a related event. “That’s All, Brother” was helping with a celebration honoring a local veteran. The celebration started Friday and would continue on Saturday. The fellow being honored was Jim “Pee Wee” Martin who parachuted into Normandy on D-Day and would be turning 100 on April 29. I decided I was interested in seeing that, too.

“That’s All, Brother” was joined by “Placid Lassie“, another C-47, and “D-Day Doll“, a C-53. All had participated in the D-Day invasion. As the three planes flew over Skydive Greene County, a couple dozen passengers exited. There were other jumpers, including the Army’s Golden Knights, and music, ceremonies, and fireworks were planned. Promised rain made an appearance about the time the Golden Knights finished their jump which prompted Terry, the friend who called Friday, and me to slip away while we were still mostly dry. 

These pictures are from Tuesday and are very out of sequence. When time permits, breakfast at the somewhat nearby (4 miles) Hasty Tasty is a nice prelude to an Air Force Museum visit. Hasty Tasty was a local chain that peaked at thirteen stores. This is the last and may also have been the first.

Big Bunnies and Lunisolar

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Two years ago, I decorated a post about determining the date of Easter with what was claimed to be a new flavor of Peeps. Last year, in the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, I reused the post after augmenting it with another claimed new Peeps flavor. I once again see those two flavors, Root Beer and Hot Tamales, being touted as new. At best I think they might be called seasonal. So what, if anything, really is new? Maybe Peeps Giant Bunnies. Everything is relative, of course, and in the world of Peeps, I suppose it is legitimate to call something about five inches tall GIANT. Plus, at about two dollars each, they can be used in that old pirate joke about a buck an ear.

But, as I said up top, the original post was about determining the date of Easter and the Peeps picture was just decoration. The bunnies serve pretty much the same role in today’s post. The real purpose of today’s post is to reveal just how much ignorance was in the original.

I presented the formula for finding the date of Easter — first Sunday after first full moon after vernal equinox — as something that separated Christian Easter from Jewish Passover when it is simply calculating the date of Easter pretty much the same way that the date of Passover is calculated. At least that’s what I now think. Although I now know a lot more about the Jewish calendar than I did a few days ago, I am absolutely not an expert.

The Jewish calendar is lunisolar meaning it is based on both the sun and the moon. The more common Gregorian calendar is purely solar with no direct lunar involvement. All months of the Jewish calendar start with a new moon. A new moon occurs approximately every 29.5 days so that the Jewish calendar can keep the months pretty much in sync with the phases of the moon by alternating 29 and 30 day months. Of course, 12 X 29.5 is a little short of the 365.24 days that it takes the Earth to circle the sun so every now and then a thirteenth month is added to the year. The timing of these “leap months” is based on a nineteen-year cycle and there are other tweaks as well.

Passover begins on the fifteenth day of the month of Nisan which is the first month after the vernal equinox. Because every month starts with a new moon, the fifteenth of every month is a full moon. Ergo, Passover always begins on a full moon. Being a week long, it always contains a Sunday. Rather than moving Easter away from Passover in 325, the First Council of Nicaea kept the scheduling just the same as it had always been and simply stopped saying the word Passover out loud. Oh wah, tagoo, Siam.