Remembering Marcus

Below are memories of Marc Rector that were given to his family ahead of the memorial service that was held on Saturday, April 1st, 2023 at The Cheese School of San Francisco.

Johannes Jacob Richter — later known as John Jacob Rector — left Siegen, Westphalia (now Germany) with his wife and first born child in 1713 to become an indentured worker in the first colonial iron mine in North America. He was a metalworker in Siegen, as were his forefathers, many of whom lived in “Truppbach,” a town across the river from Siegen that translates to “army town.” For generations he and his fore bearers worked to support the local feudal lords fighting for territory and religion in Northern Europe.

Later that century, Mary Tiffin Rector brought her children to the Ohio Territory, one of whom was named “John Rector”. One of Mary’s grandsons, Marcus Clay Rector, joined the Union Army during the Civil War. He likely faced many of his cousins who fought in the Virginia CSA cavalry and militias. His son, Marcus Clay Jr., was the formidable grandfather of my John Marcus Rector that Marc remembered visiting, along with grandma Libbie, in West Jefferson, for large family get togethers: Marcus and Libbie had nine children themselves.

Our patronymic family has a long relationship with the military, through at least seven centuries, including the US Navy which gave John Marcus Rector the opportunity to be the first in his family to graduate from a university. It also gave him the opportunity to leave Ohio and see the world, for which he was always grateful. He always spoke fondly of his time as a communications officer on two destroyers, one in the Pacific and one in the Atlantic. This indirectly lead to my own first European tour, inside my Mom who was pregnant with me when she joined a group of Navy wives following their husbands around Europe in the spring of 1964. Thank you Mom and Dad! I still remember my first taste of live baby eels fried tableside in Spain…true story, ask Carol about that sometime.


Marcus, he drew a line around our hearts

and drew us to his home.

He shared his thoughts like hors d’oevres

to feed his passion to be known.

His ghost shall be good at craps.

His cheers scared the cats from his lap.

He sang, when the feeling found him,

and he laughed in every language.

He was the wine and football man

and because of that, still is.

No beauty ever dissappears.

He didn’t die, he lived

entirely on his own terms.

Marcus, our Bacchus,

he took his time, which took his turn;

he was so easy to remember,

like some song you can’t unlearn.

–Brian, after the stylings of cowboy poet Charles J. Quarto, frequent collaborator with Jerry Jeff Walker



I have always felt lucky with the family I was dealt. Even though I knew no father in my life, I had a special Mom and 3 big brothers who thought the world of me, and treated me accordingly. KUDOS to Marc, Wendell (Toby), and Tom.

A strong memory of my childhood was that Martha cried all the way to the airport driving Marc to his first Navy deployment, and then she cried for DAYS after he left. It was not much fun for me, I tell you.

Marc always had a strong presence in my world. Though we couldn’t be together too often, when we were it was quality. From summers in Roanoke, to visits in Boston, San Francisco, and Reno, I experienced a grand whirl of wonderful conversations, fantastic food and a deep connection with the entire family.

We know how to enjoy being together with Marc at the helm. My respect for Marc and all that he accomplished in his splendid lie, knows no bounds. His love of architecture, food, music, and entertaining is legendary in my mind!

So glasses up, a toast to my biggest brother Marc, whose memories will live in all of us.

–your baby sister Amy
Rectors in Scottsdale, AZ c.1979(?)

I mentally noted this last December on the shortest night of the year, Marcus would remind us with a photo.

Of course when Marc and Carol left SF, both John and I were very sad, we had nowhere to go to watch the Super Bowl.  Your super bowl party was the best!  If you loved the game your comrades were there, and for people like me no interest at all in football, there were very interesting people to talk with, not about football.

Segueing into Marc’s bookstore.  Great staff that would come to the super bowl party as well.

I absolutely loved his bookstore, can’t remember the name.  I would bring friends and out of towners, just to browse because he had much more than tech books for architects and engineers.  Huge number of cookbooks, (duh),  And Tchotchke’s all around, great for little gifts.  That’s where I discovered Taxi Wallets!


Growing up, my parents were probably on average 10 years older than my peers’ parents. Those 10 years made a huge difference because my parents were children of immigrants and children of the Depression. Parents who socialized and listened to contemporary music seemed like another species to me. Marc introduced me to Joe Jackson. And the whole food thing at your house was another revelation. What I recall, and what impressed me, was the sense of adventure present in your household. Marc worked in Israel. Marc and Carol cooked elaborate meals. They allowed (did they know?) you to host an epic cast party and when my Police record got ruined, Marc stood in line to buy tickets so we could go to the Police concert which was amazing. Marc and Carol moved to San Francisco and both had impressive careers. They continued to explore, and cook elaborate meals. Marc ran a bookstore. They participated in culture, and lived to the fullest. They relocated to Reno. They continued to take risks and live with gusto.

I treasure my time with the Rector family and thank you for including me, and for continuing to inspire me to seize the day and eat something delicious…Your dad was colorful and not afraid.


I have  many wonderful memories of Marc , but the very special ones are those associated with the work at Faneuil Hall Marketplace.  Marc was most often seen walking around with Ben and Jane Thompson.  Marc was always taking notes with Ben and Jane talking away. I never knew how he could keep up with them since they did not seem to have any order to what they were doing or saying, but it was Marc’s special talent that he could not only write down their conversations, but then he could translate them into architecture. It was as an amazing feat, and if not for Marc, I do not think the project would have ever happened.  

Since I was such a novice and knew practically nothing about this process, the art, the science, Marc became my mentor and teacher.  It was my job to publicize and work with the press and to make The Rouse Company, the developer, look like the best new thing since sliced bread.  I had been given the job  to make the project a BIG hit…I was given  6 months to do so.  If it had not been for Marc, I could not have done it.  He was able to explain anything and everything in a manner that was at once coherent and yet entertaining at the same time.  What a great guy!

–Carol T.
panoramic photo of Quincy Marketplace by LGagnon shared under

The day we moved in to 44 Harrison a sharp looking car came zooming down toward the dead end, and pulled into the driveway next to ours.  That was my soon-to-be good friend Marc introducing himself.  Here are some of the descriptors that come to mind when I think of our friendship over the next 10 years.  He cut a sharp figure.  Was self-assured (opinionated?), jovial, outgoing and as you have already read, gastronomically adventurous.  His reactions to plays and calls during televised sports events were unrestrained and clearly audible down the whole block.

Two stories; the first demonstrates all the above characteristics.  The second shows another side altogether. 

The town of Newton Highlands determined to have a 5k road race as part of a village festival and residents were charged with putting together special teams with a name which would be emblazoned on the participants’ specially ordered T shirts.  Marc and I each had an idea that we thought was first rate, and our discussion began as a teasing interplay and moved to a testy exchange to a full -fledged argument.  Marc: “It can ONLY be The Harrison Street Harriers!”  Katy: “That’s so obvious; how much more subtle and witty would be The Harrison Street Harbingers?”  I’m chagrined to report now, so many years later, that I prevailed. My debating skills got a good workout.

The second story: very shortly after my marriage ended I put the kids to bed and went out to sit on the front porch feeling stunned, numb, scared; all of the above.  Marc came over and sat down next to me.  He didn’t put his arm about me or even say a word.  Just sat there for about a half hour, somehow knowing that the silent presence of another human being (didn’t hurt that it was male) was enormously comforting.


Living next to Marc from age 4 to about 14 was an education for me in Living Large.  Marc was louder, more openly expressive, happier, sometimes angrier (and did I mention louder?) than anyone I had met before.  His was a magnetic personality –- I felt like I was always watching in wonder to see what Marc would do next!  It was at Marc and Carol’s that I first experienced guacamole (yuck), lobsters (terrifying) magnums of champagne (as large as me!), and many other delicacies that I was sadly too young to fully appreciate.  I found Marc intimidating as a kid – but as I’ve grown older I have come to admire so much the intensity of his emotions and his ability to offer and enjoy good food, beautiful things, and most of all good company.


I remember hearing Joe Jackson for the first time during a dinner party when kids and adults mingled together.  And now whenever I hear Sunday Papers I think of the Rector’s living room.

I too remember being amazed when Marc grilled (LIVE) lobsters and had to cut them in half before cooking!

And finally Marc was the one who introduced me to college football.  I remember asking how the betting was going and waiting to hear which last placed player had to eat the plain spaghetti at the end of the season.


“of a woman with whom I’ve lived most of my life (and that’s a long time!), otherwise I think I’m getting along just fine. As you know, I enjoy cooking and I haven’t succumbed to the prepared food syndrome. And work takes up most of my waking hours and I like the work and the people very much.

Living in a foreign country is also new. And this is, very much, a foreign country. I’ve lived here long enough that the excitement and stimulation of simply living here have worn off, but Jerusalem is still exciting and stimulating. As I learn more about the city — and I have expanded my territory by buying a bicycle and learning to ride the buses — I find that there is more to know. There are still many things I want to do in the exploratory sense. (But that’s still true of Boston, as well.)

So how did I feel? Happy to be going back to a place of richness and history and to a work situation where I am looked upon to lead and make hard problems easier. Sad to be leaving Carol and Eric and Alison and Brian; all of whom I love deeply and like and enjoy being with. Stimulated by the work and the country and its people — all of them — Jews and Arabs and those few goyem like me. Apprehensive because it is all new and untried in a large sense — the work and the living.

Thus far it is good and I look forward to it remaining so, but I look forward to the day when someone I can hug and say hello to and laugh with comes back into my life, even for a brief period.

You mention your cooking. I think the tendency to do big pots of things and special things is more because of Carol than Eric’s capacity. I experienced the same thing. Carol gets there first and does it so well, why bother on the day-to-day stuff. You kind of have to make an appointment to cook dinner…

…I don’t miss being there to rake leaves. I love the tree and its presence and all of its colors from the bright light green of early spring to the deep green of summer and the yellow orange of fall to the brown black starkness interspersed with the white frosting of winter — but I guess one must pay with the raking of its leaves…

I’m glad you get to visit NC and Reynolds. And I’m very glad he got to know you. Eric has this way of keeping you his own secret. I know I waited so long to finally meet this Alison person. And finally it was worth the wait. I’m sure Reynolds feels the same, perhaps in a different way. The undertones of his book (life) imply that one must wholly dedicate onesself to the art of writing at the expense of all else. And who can argue with his personal accomplishments. But each must determine his own balance of art and life and well being.

I like reyonlds and his art very much. I will always treasure an evening — a long evening reaching into the morning — of conversation with him the first time I visited Eric there, alone. When I visited again with Carol, it was cordial, but very different.

There are so many things. I want to learn and know more about your parents and family. I have immensely enjoyed each encounter, but it’s always been whoosh whoosh

And I worry about 48 Harrison without a Christmas tree. Will you and E be there?

And I’ve reached the end of this page! Love/Marc

–read by Alison at the Memorial

A Letter From Frank

Frank, age 86, and Wilda, age 82, in Tempe, AZ 2006

In or about 1996 Brian gave Marc Rector the basic genealogy of the Rector clan in the US going back all the way to “1666 in Truppich, Germany 2 kilometers east of Siegen.” Brian had stumbled onto the “Rector Records” book and other documents and copied out our line. Given that both his parents had died, this inspired Marc to write to his Rector uncles and aunts for additional information:

Son Brian has been bugging me again about the RECTOR genealogy…Seems he found a book on RECTOR in the New York Public Library a while back and wants to know more…me too.

The following is the Genealogy in a direct line, taken from a much broader genealogy that Frank sent me a few years ago. That one ended with MARCUS CLAY being the son of MARCUS in the mid 19th Century. I have continued it to the best of my knowledge…Many gaps need filled and specifics filled in…PLEASE FILL IN AND RETURN THE COPY TO ME.

There followed is the first outline of our Hilltop lineage that we’ve now added to and compiled in The Begats.

I’ve recently come upon the folder in which Marc stored this information. I have found (so far) responses from Frank Hodgson Rector, as well as Jane Rector Breiding. Jane glossed the MARCUS CLAY outline that Marc had sent her, including the addition of sister Margaret who died tragically (as you will read below) at age 1 1/2. Frank, however, wrote a four page single-spaced letter describing his knowledge of the family background. It was so informative, and colorful, I thought it would be good to add it to this archive:

Wednesday, September 13, 1995
from Frank and Wilda Rector
[Frank is uncle of Marc, brother of Marc’s father Wendell]

Dear Marc–

Will do my best — I am not much for “rattling bones” so my knowledge is sparse.

Starting with Marcus Rector Sr. the family was living in Rectortown, VA1 (small un-incorporated) and moved to Pickaway County Ohio — farmers — Grandmother Frances [van Keuren] lived in Big Plain [Ohio, 15 miles southwest of Columbus] after Grandpa Marcus died. For years I was told he fell from a haymow in a scuffle with a tramp, breaking his neck. Found out later that he liked schnapps and kept it in the haymow — fell out a bit drunk! Two of Dad’s brothers, John and Alva, were also tipplers!

US Navy Hellcats on Espiritu Santo island in February 1944

How do I know about Rectortown? Not on a map. I was on the island of Efate in the new Hebrides Island [now Vanuatu] late in 1942. A call came to X-Ray that a relative was at the dispensary. When I got there he was a 6’2″ 220 pound Black man. Both of us got a bang out of that. Talking to him I found out about Rectortown (a crossroads). He was from near there and said that he was most likely a decendant of slaves that had belonged to great grandfather Rittenour R!2

As to mother’s family, it is even more sketchy. Mother [Elizabeth “Libby” Hodgson] said he came over from London, England (Mildred found Hodgsons in a graveyard there on a trip). He heard about the Civil War [in the US] and came to fight on the Union side. Being a foreigner, he could only be a courier between armies and had several horses shot out from under him — but not wounded himself. He went to Ohio, married, and also was a farmer. None of the Rectors (my family) knew either grandfather, but Grandma Hodgson also lived in Big Plain.

Big Plain Methodist Church, built in 1883

Dad [Marcus Clay Rector Jr.] and Mom met at the church and were married there. My sister Margaret (born after Mildred) died [at age 1 1/2] from taking medicine that she climbed up on a cupboard to get. With party lines tied up and no one would get off Dad rode a horse into Big Plain to get a doctor who arrived too late to save her.

Dad started out as a farmer, then a blacksmith (he was too lenient on collecting for work), barber, and then carpenter. When I was born he was working on a bridge in Columbus. He left home on the Interurban Street Car (ran down the middle of Main St. West Jefferson) at 4am and returned 8:30pm or 9 that night 6 days a week. He said he only saw his kids in bed and then on Sunday.

There is not much I know about the Rector clan — so there it is.

Some Notes:

1: Spenser Rector was the last in our line to be born in Fauquier Co., VA. He died at age 28 IN Fauquier Co. in 1793 with at least three children by his wife Mary Tiffen. His son Henry Clay Rector, Sr. marriage in 1812 to Elizabeth Hotsenpillar is recorded in the Pickaway/Ross Co. OH records. There is LOTS more about this in another post, but it’s clear that after Henry Rector married in OH, his line stays in OH until most of the children of Marcus Jr. move away to other parts of the US.

2: John Retenhour Rector was the son of Henry and Elizabeth (above), born in 1813 a year after their marriage. He married Arminta Wiggins in Ross Co., OH, and was the father of Marcus Clay Sr. Given that it’s clear from census materials that he lived and owned (substantial!) property in Ohio, a “free state” before the Civil War, it is unlikely that he also owned slaves. That said, I have established that many of the Virginia Rectors owned slaves, so it is very likely that this Rector that Frank met during World War 2 was a descendent of slaves that were once owned by Rectors in that area.

Hunting Hans Richter

Dr. Brian Rector (PhD UGA) notes the following with regard to the reporting of Ruth Y. Rector posted on who says —

Hans Richter was the earliest ancestor (discovered) of the Virginia Rector family. He was probably born about the year 1550 in Saxony, and the Siegen city records show that he paid the fee for Siegen citizenship in 1585, being ‘from the country near Miessen’, from the city of Freiburg.

In response Dr. Rector notes:

Both of those town names are almost certainly misspelled because (according to the Google Maps) there is no such place as “Miessen” — only Meissen — and near Meissen there is a small city called Freiberg (with two e’s).  Both are in Saxony — not in Lower Saxony, where the “Freiburg near Hamburg and Denmark” is located, as you can see in the attached snippet.  Now why isn’t he described as being from “near Dresden”?  Well, that information was almost certainly provided by Hans himself and I’m guessing he didn’t have any kin in Dresden; only in Freiburg and the country near Meissen and it would have been a good day’s walk from either of those places to Dresden.  Then again, it’s almost 500 km from there to Siegen, so there’s no telling how he got there.  Bottom line though, is that he was almost certainly from that area of Saxony, as reported by Ruth Y. Rector, not from Lower Saxony.

John Marcus Rector

[this obituary has also been printed in the Reno Gazette-Journal, on Friday, November 11th, 2022]

John Marcus Rector died peacefully in his home in Reno on Sunday, November 6th; he was 84. He is survived by his wife Carol of 62 years, brother Tom, sister Amy, sons Eric and Brian and their families. He was generally known as “Marcus” or “Marc” to his friends and colleagues. His nearest brother, Wendell, passed away in 2018.

Born on his grandparents’ farm in Logan, OH, Marc was the first son of Martha and Wendell Rector. He grew up in Columbus, attended West High School, and then Ohio State University on a Navy ROTC scholarship. He served on the USS Tulare and USS Henley as a communications officer. Upon leaving the US Navy he pursued his professional career as an architect in Roanoke, VA, Cambridge, MA, and Jerusalem, Israel.

His seminal work was as project architect for Faneuil Hall Marketplace (FHM) in downtown Boston for Benjamin Thompson and Associates (BTA). This was one of the first, and one of the most influential, of many “festival marketplaces” that revitalized urban centers around the US, and then around the world. In 2009 FHM won the American Institute of Architecture 25 Year Award for “buildings that set a precedent.”

Marc worked on other similar projects — South Street Seaport in New York, Harborplace in Baltimore, and the San Antonio River Walk — before beginning work on the Ordway Theater for the Performing Arts in St. Paul, MN, his last project at BTA.

In 1987 architect Moshe Safdie asked Marc to help move forward a massive project in Jerusalem, Israel called “Mamilla.” He then split time between the Boston area and Jerusalem until the project was put on hold during first Gulf War in 1991.

In 1992 Marc and Carol moved to San Francisco, and Marc opened and operated the Builders Booksource store in Ghiradelli Square. He was also an enthusiastic volunteer for the San Francisco International Film Festival, Foodwise, and Slow Food. Besides his architectural work he was a passionate foodie who wrote a cookbook for friends and family at age 50, then published a food blog — — from age 65 until recently. He loved to dance and to sing karaoke at the drop of a hat.

In 2012 they retired to the Sierra Canyon planned community in Reno, NV where Marc participated in the architectural review committee as well as neighborhood classes and numerous social events. He loved his family, Ohio State, Boston, San Francisco, Reno, and the many friends he met along the way. Marc simply loved life.

Maidstone Ordinary

A 1994 listing for what is presented as a tavern built by early Rectors in Rectortown, VA

The article in the Fauquier County Times-Democrat includes most of the history that I know about this, however the statement about the origin of the name differs from my research. I found that the original German settlers joined up in the town of Maidstone, near the mouth of the Thames River in England, after leaving their homes in 1713. When they discovered that their sponsor was broke they were forced to live and work in and around Maidstone (then a papermaking center) for a year to save their own funding for their eventual trip to the Newe Worlde in 1714. The Richters/Rectors must have had fond memories of that year to name their commercial business after the city that took them in.

The fellow who helped us at the Fauquier County Historical Society — Seth –took me up to an office not open to the public specifically to show me this article, which was all that he knew about the Rectors in Rectortown.

From the Oxford English Dictionary:
A closer look at the many definitions of “Ordinary” including a Virginia specific item!

A look on Google Maps Street View just now reveals a *similar* looking structure at a similar looking intersection in the village called “Rectortown” now — Rt. 710 is also called “Rectortown Rd.” but it’s on the corner of Routes 710 and 624? Perhaps the State has adjusted the Route numbers in the past 30 years. Sure looks a lot like it with the double chimneys!

Oddly, just last night, I watched a 60 Minutes story about a family that “accidently” purchased the house where their ancestors lived. I recommend checking it out…

Did Any Rectors Own Slaves?

John Jacob Rector 1773 Estate (partial) from Fauquier Co. Courthouse records

It was with great interest that I pulled Book 1 of over 100 bound records in the Fauquier (“It’s pronounced “Faw-KEER”) County, VA courthouse after placing all my electronic devices (including my fone) into a locker once I passed through the metal detectors in the lobby of the courthouse. Unfortunately I arrived with only 30 minutes until closing time on a Friday in May of 2022 so I had to dive in quickly. I had started with the Index book for all wills and estates recorded before 1925, and when I reached the “R” section, there were Rectors galore. I chose the earliest record I could find, which was for John Jacob Rector who died in 1773. Bingo!

And there it was in brown and white (the image I ordered and eventually received is from microfilm that is a negative of the actual image for greater contrast, I suspect):

  • Rector Inventory
    • Negro Jack
    • Negro Jude
    • Negro Sambo
    • Negro Cate(?)
    • Negro James
    • Negro Anthony
    • Negro Manuel
    • Negro Homer
    • 1 Bay Gelding … 1 Bay Stallion …

To the right of each listing are numerical values, and because this will was moved through probate in 1773, all those figures are in Pounds Sterling, Shillings, and Pennies. I’m not sure whether it’s comforting or horrifying that a man is worth more than two horses? Two men each are worth almost twice the gelding and the stallion’s total value.

Because I had to conclude my research in 30 minutes, resulting in a slip of specific pages to have them digitize and email to me, I wasn’t able to closely correlate each document with a specific member of the Rector family, specifically my personal family tree. For example, I quickly assumed that the John Jacob Rector will and estate listing I found in Book 1 represented our First Generation descendant who immigrated from Germany. However, now that I’ve been able to link it to other records, it is clearly the will and estate of JJR’s firstborn and namesake. JJR prime died in 1728/29, and those records, primarily processed as British documents before most of Virginia was organized into the counties that administrate things like this, it’s unlikely that I will find that document. On the plus side (for me) we are descended from JJR prime’s second born, Henry. I did NOT find Henry’s will and estate listing in my 30 minutes, but I continue to do research online through the VA Archives. I did find the will for Harmon Rector, JJR prime’s third born, whose will left “…to my son Harmon Rector one negro named Peter.”

As you can see in The Begats, Spenser Rector, Henry’s youngest son died young, at 28 in 1793. He and his British wife, Mary Tiffen, had at least three children before he died in Fauquier Co. Spenser’s middleborn — Marcus Clay Rector — was married in 1812 in Pickaway Co. OH, and his mother died in Ross Co. OH in 1832. So the family moved at some point, likely involving Mary’s new husband. Offhand I know that the Continental Congress was BROKE after the Revolutionary War, and decided to offer many of its unpaid soldiers land in the new states instead of their back-pay. Rectortown is located very near the trails along the upper Potomac River that would eventually become the National Road, and then the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, and then the Baltimore and Ohio (B&O) Railroad. I will be researching further into when/how Spenser’s family left VA and arrived in OH, though it is interesting to know that our branch of Rectors then stayed in Ohio until Amy left for the Oregon Territory(!) in the 1970s. Speaking of Amy:

To Corn & Nubbins . . . . 20 .14 —

I was FASCINATED to note one entry in JJR2’s estate, listing “Nubbins” as an asset — they have played an important and positive part of recent Rector history…but maybe they actually tie us back to old times?

I can also now add that not only did Spenser Rector move our line to Ohio shortly after the Revolutionary War, but his grandson — Marcus Clay Rector — was drafted into the Union Army in 1863 to fight against…his family, in some cases!

In fact, in my first foray to poke around on my local library’s computer (CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT OWNS AND SELLS OUR COUNTRY’S OLDEST PUBLIC RECORDS?!?!?!?) I found a record for a contemporary of Marcus Clay Rector — C.P. Rector of Fauquier Co., VA — who fought in F Company of the 6th Virginia Cavalry of the Confederate Army! Who, at the age of 87, applied to the state of Virginia for a military pension because he could no longer work. Amazing.

Summer’s Over


In Maine we say that summer has peaked and is now coasting downhill toward the dark valley of winter when the goldenrod heads erupt in a spray of gold the sun’s light that has blanketed our fields and pastures since the end of Spring’s rain.


Plantation Pundit

Plantation Trails Woshully Bungalow

Our last “foodie” stop on our trip was in another mountain area, north west of Coonoor and back in Karnataka state but right on the Kerela border, referred to as “Coorg” although that seems to be a colonial era term and is not found on any maps. Significantly we would be entering a dense chunk of the Tata Empire as guests of their hospitality division surrounded by tens of thousands of acres of their agricultural division which they proudly announced that they sold most of their coffee production to Starbucks.
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Acres Wild

The view from the upper bungalow at Acres Wild Farmstay, Coonoor, Tamil Nadu

Our journey after Melkote began with being picked up by a driver and his car as we said our goodbyes to the Kouragi family and thanked them for hosting us. We had arranged through a travel agent that specialized in culinary focused travel to visit a cheese maker, and to visit a coffee plantation before we had to leave India. We had four nights left, and two of them would be spent at Acres Wild, a “22 acre, family-run organic cheesemaking farm and farmstay” according to their website. First we had to get there.
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