In my favorite Indiana used bookstore, I acquired a copy of this book today, a compilation of various documents believed by the government in 1926 to be pertinent to the founding of the country. There were several intriguing little things about it, like who the David Pletcher who had previously owned the book was, and the relationship between the Declaration of Independence and the creation of the country. But foremost in my mind at the moment is the Northwest Ordinance.

In the book, the Northwest Ordinance is listed in the table of contents and elsewhere simply as the "Ordinance of 1787". Was this common usage at the time, and when and why did we come to call it the Northwest Ordinance rather than simply the Ordinance of 1787?

[The full title is "An Ordinance for the Government of the Territory of the United States, North-West of the River Ohio".]

Inspired (tricked, tempted?) by an email exchange about baked goods, I broke my post Christmas promise to eat fewer sweets for a week or so and made my way to Bouchon Bakery for lunch. For those unfamiliar with it, Bouchon is located in the ultra-tony Time-Warner Center, and, befittingly, is run by Thomas Keller of Per Se/French Laundry fame. It's meant to be the casual counterpart to Keller's otherwise over-the-top establishments - a place you can go and just have a sandwich and a (expensive) bottled water in a casual atmosphere.

I can't give a definitive answer about Bouchon quite yet. That would take another visit or two. But from the ham and cheese baguette I had, and the pain au chocolat that followed, I can say a few things. First, Bouchon's bread baguette is pretty serious stuff. The dough is light and airy yet chewy, and the crust crisp and crackly, all as it should be. It isn't stored in plastic, like some other places, and, at the take away bakery, at least, Keller has wisely restrained himself to only two or three kinds of sandwich. Having said that, the ham tasted as it they had run out of whatever ham they meant to use, and opened a packet of Healthy Choice "wafer thin" instead, a startling problem only moderately lessened by the delicious cornichons served with the sandwich, and the much appreciated bit of dijon therein.

Second, while the bakery is known for being good value, that's only true in the context of someone (i.e, Keller) who thinks a $250 set price dinner menu (as dinner costs at Per Se) is a reasonable indulgence. While the sandwich at $7.75 is about par with other premium french sandwiches around the country (witness the equally good Breadline, in DC) Keller completely loses the plot with $2.95 croissants and the simply preposterous $6.75 take-away lemon tart, which I could not bring myself to buy. Lemon tart, as Keller well knows, is a cheap dessert by french standards, including neither chocolate nor butter cream. And yet, he allows it to pass the once unassailable six dollar barrier. While comparisons in terms of price to France are unfair (this, after all, is New York), I should note that a completely superior sandwich and lemon tart is available in an equally tony part of Paris for about 5.00 euros total, rather than $14.50.

Finally, Bouchon's pain au chocolat is quite good. It is far too large, but the pastry shatters when bit, leaving large, satisfying flakes on the napkin, and the taste is of good, clean, butter. It should be two-thirds the size and half the price, but you can do much worse in New York, and only moderately better (again, La Bergamote).

So, on a first visit, my sense is that Bouchon is ludicrously over-priced, but good. I rather suspect, though don't know, that much the same can be said for the more expensive, if more substantial, sit-down wing of the restaurant.