Q: How did a hurricane lamp gets its name?A: The name is a reference to the glass shade's ability to protect candle flames from sudden drafts.Blowing the wind: The term hurricane lamp is somewhat misleading. "Hurricane" is the name for a tall cylindrical or barrel-shaped glass dome placed around a candlestick to protect the flame from drafts. A hurricane shade is a similar protective device attached to a wall candle bracket or candleholder. Hank Prebys, curator of domestic life at Henry Ford Museum and Greenfield Village in Dearborn, Mich., speculates the term "hurricane lamp" evolved after the shade's initial development as light sources evolved from candles to kerosene and the term "lamp" became more widespread.Point of origin: In "Lighting in America, From Colonial Rushlights to Victorian Chandeliers," (The Main Street Press, $10.95), Lawrence S. Cooke notes hurricane shades were first called "India shades" and were used in the 18th and early 19th Centuries, probably more in the South than in New England.

In the book "Glass in Early America" (W.W. Norton, $85), Arlene Palmer notes the first reference to India shades or candle shades in the United States was in 1775 in an advertisement for India shades by The Philadelphia Glassworks.Shady past: According to Prebys, the early candle shades were often quite tall, sometimes 2 feet in height to cover both the candle and candleholder. They were made predominantly of colorless blown glass but colored glass, such as amethyst and teal, was used also. Later shades produced in the 19th Century, were more decorative, made of cut or acid-etched glass. Prebys notes also that hurricane shades were used in the homes of the wealthy as candles were expensive and not a typical light source for most households. The use of candles waned in the mid-19th Century with the development of kerosene. The design of the hurricane shade, however, went on to be used in the development of chimneys for oil and kerosene lamps. 2 cops held liable in screwdriver assaultDark meaning of bubble-gum Pumped Up Kicks is tough to chew10 reasons why you want the job

ConnectLike us on FacebookFollow us on TwitterDo you believe in restaurant graveyards? chandelier nodierYou know, presumably doomed locales that housed the last suppers of multiple expired eateries? chandelier 9 branches significationPersonally, I loathe giving credence to pseudo-theories, but certain addresses have track records that have a whiff of a curse about them. chandeliers wilkoTake, for instance, the edifice at 6125 Riverside Dr. Hugging the Scioto on a foresty riverbank, it’s a handsome lodge-like building whose gloriously scenic patio provides a riparian feast for urban-sore eyes. And yet the list of looked-like-they-found-their-niche-there dead restaurants who’ve called this site home leaps out at you: La Tavola, Cabo Cocina and Gibby’s.

OK, now bury any bad vibes somewhere else, because the Cafe Istanbul that now resides here has so much going for it, I believe it can break the perceived curse. Along with a vacation-y mood supplied by its top 10 patio, this Istanbul (there are branches in Easton and Bexley) has a roomy and dramatic interior with massive chandeliers, sometimes trancy Turkish tunes (sometimes played live on Fridays), a hearth, decorative plates and rugs on pale yellow walls, and splashes of red that pop against a prevalence of wood and stone. And then there’s the food — which pairs well with Istanbul’s why-the-hell-not? Turkish wines (about $7/glass) and is healthy, fresh and generally addictive. Since at first glance many dishes can appear pricey, I’ll describe some relative bargains. High on the cost-cutting list are Istanbul’s full-sized-starter-entree-and-dessert-combo meals (chosen from a large portion of the big menu) available Sunday through Thursday. These feed-two-huge $22 feasts might begin with a rich-yet-tart Turkish tzatziki called caciki (pronounced “jajiki”) fashioned with homemade yogurt;

a nutty and spicy relish (ezme); three chubby, sweet and savory, pine nut-and-raisin-stuffed grape leaves; or — my favorite — a stewy tomato-based, ratatouille-like mosaic of sweetly roasted eggplant, peppers, onions and plenty of olive oil (i.e. “eggplant with sauce,” aka saksuka, and for etymology buffs, pronounced like the Middle Eastern egg-and-tomato dish). If picking the latter, you might stick with an aubergine-and-tomato theme by enjoying the mammoth and ridiculously delicious Sultan’s Favorite main course ($17 a la carte). Atop a base of pureed smoked eggplant that could almost pass for mashed potatoes was a sorta cacciatore starring remarkably tender lamb chunks. If targeting Istanbul’s expertly grilled entrees, the Kebab Combination ($18 a al carte) offers, along with top-notch rice and a celery-heavy veggie medley, a mix-and-match twofer. Try the Doner (superior gyro-style meat) coupled with sausage-y Adana. Desserts complete the $22 deal, and you certainly can’t go wrong with Istanbul’s dense, flaky and pistachio-rich homemade Baklava ($7 a la carte).

If you’re a wiggly custard fan like me, though, I recommend Istanbul’s milky, cinnamon-scented, burnt sugar-crusted and raisin-sauced Kazandibi ($6 ala carte). Either goes down great with a freezing shot of ouzo-ish Raki ($7) presented in a decorative little ice bucket. In addition to these three-course deals, good value arrives via Istanbul’s feeds-two, awesome Lahmacun ($15; pronounced lock-mah-uh-zhoon). Eat that trio of crinkly toasted, sorta-lamb-chili-smeared, flatbread pizzas by squirting on lemon and garnishing with parsley, greens and seasoned onions — then rolling up like cigars and chewing with delight. Also pizza-ish are Turkish pides (think open-faced, skinny calzones). I liked the bready envelope of Istanbul’s glossy-rimmed Seafood Pide (shrimp, tilapia and scraps of swordfish, $17), yet thought a different “topping” — say soujouk (spicy sausage, $15) — would merge better with these pides’ mozzarella. But savvy diners like us trying ever more dishes from this alluring menu is only gonna help keep this deserving place alive.