From "How Did Greek Fire Work? And 6 Other Lost Inventions" (NYT)(a gift link, like all NYT links now).
I think I'm seeing "zettabytes" for the first time. What is a zettabyte? It's "2 to the 70th power, also expressed as 1 sextillion bytes... approximately equal to 1,000 exabytes or 1 billion terabytes."
The prefix "zetta-" is in the OED. It's "An arbitrary alteration of septi-... so called with reference to the unit being seven orders of magnitude greater than one thousand.... Because the symbol s for sepo would be the same as the symbol for the second, while the symbol o for oco could be misread as a zero, these eventually became zepto and yocto. The multiple prefixes zetta and yotta were fabricated, from the same Latin roots, by an equally arbitrary process."
Back to the main article. I'll just cherry-pick one thing about food — an extinct plant called silphium: "Elite gourmands paid fortunes to have silphium’s pungent juice ground into the exotic braises detailed in Apicius — a first-century collection that stands as our primary record of Roman haute cuisine — which describes using the spice to glaze whole parrot and flamingo in a rich date and vinegar reduction. Silphium’s flavor profile seemed to be similar to to garum, leeks and garlic; contemporary writers praised its unique, musky smell and the sharp savor it left on the palate."
The silphium is gone but the parrots and flamingoes are still around. Imagine eating a parrot or a flamingo. No, they are firmly on our noneatable list. A flamingo is a thing to treasure and love.

2 comments:
I use Greek fire in my new murder mystery, Whodidit with a Colt .45?. On sale soon.
A wave of laughter swept over the crowd. It wasn’t just a few people, like when I called Clem a white ghost. It seemed like the whole mob was laughing. And in particular, it was all the angry drunk men in front who were laughing the hardest.
What the hell were they laughing at?
That’s when I turned and saw my deputy, Finn. He had come out of the jail house, and now he was standing on the front porch, right behind me. And he was armed with a slingshot.
“Are you going to kill us with your rock?” somebody shouted.
“We’ve got Colts and Schofields, boy.”
“Get off the porch, you clown!”
The moonlight was bright, and with all the torches, we could all see pretty well. Finn was standing there, pointing a slingshot at the mob. It wasn’t a rock in his slingshot, however. It was a shiny sphere, about three inches across.
“My name is Finn,” Finn said. His voice was loud, and surprisingly strong. “Y’all know what I can do. This isn’t a rock. This is Greek fire. Do you want to see it?”
“Oh fuck!” a man yelled.
“I seen it! I seen it! He’ll burn your face off!”
Several people in front started fleeing in the snow, as fast as they could run. And it escalated. The people who didn’t know about Greek Fire were shocked and paralyzed. The people who did know about Greek Fire were running for their lives. And the fear was contagious. Suddenly, the people who had no idea what all the running was about started running away, too. And in a minute, maybe two, the whole damn mob had run off into the night.
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