Late May, 1754: George Washington watches as one of his confederates, the Iroquois warrior Half-King, reaches down to the corpse of a freshly slain French ensign,
Brioche. Barouche. And one of them you can still buy, by the dozen, at the sweets stall in the weekend farmers market; the other hasn’t been seen in a century (although they tend to blend, to be conjoined twins, in my mind).