Ifeel bad for missing the meetups, but we’re just not settled in London yet. Maybe once we have a couch and chairs….
#WritingFromIsolationWard
Month: May 2008
It’s very satisfying for me to turn the remains of a roasted chicken into soup. It’s like recycling. The Bones are a problem, but some filtering and judicious picking at the soup will remove the majority of the bones. I cook the carcass overnight with some pepper and salt and in the morning I reduce the temperature a little in order to remove what bones I can.
After the bones are gone I add a little more pepper and salt to taste then a touch of fragrant grating cheese (any hard cheese should do) just enough to flavor the soup and no more. I increase the temperature to about 1/3 and let it simmer. I add water periodically to avoid too much reduction and concentration.
Once the Soup is hot and simmering again I add the vegetables; but no potatoes.
About an hour before serving, I add the raw potatoes. The reason for the delay is to avoid the Potatoes picking up too much taste from the soup as the Potatoes will absorb the fat and flavor as it cooks from raw. You can avoid this by pre-boiling the potatoes.
The soup is made of what I can find around the kitchen:
1 Cooked Chicken Carcass, Breasts removed for another dinner
The fat and drippings from the roasted chicken is also preserved for the soup.
1 Cup of Carrots
1 Cup of Peas
6 small potatoes, peeled.
A couple tablespoons of pepper
1 tablespoon of salt
1-3 tablespoons of Hard Grated “Fragrant” cheese.
- Today we watched "Zombie Strippers" "Teeth" and "Strange Wilderness" All three involved trauma to the Penis – It was a dick-hurt hat-trick #
- @billdeys I’ve gotten it too…. disregarded it too… but I got a great deal of it the other day. #
- 6 hours of no toilet *so far* hurry up repair guys #
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Can you believe this? I think it was meant to be a “cute” post script to the whole Scarecrow Origin (what with the Zombies and the Crow Death) but it comes off WAY creepier than the rest of the story.
Robin picks up the kid and hands her to Batman then hugs him close around his bicep and asks if he’d like his own kid?
Woah.
Now we know that Batman has reproduced with the Daughter of the Demon and produced a kind of “Mini-Batman” child (who is magically better than anyone he comes against) This scene is kind of innocuous, but it is at least as odd as the “I’m the god damn Batman!” scene from the Frank Miller “All-star” series.
Hmm?
Sometime in the far future that I can’t see now, I’ll head over the big pond with Spawn and Wife in Tow and visit the “old country” and they’ll see the dirt that spawned me; someday.
Here’s an old hit about Great Britain from my VOX Blog:
There are disused lots and fields all over the outskirts of
your home town. Somewhere there is the graveyard of a disused factory
or farm. When you were young, did you go and check it out? Did you
investigate the remains of a former workplace or home?
When I
was a teenager, and visiting Scotland, my friend Stuart and I dissected
the remains of Industrial and postwar Scotland as it appeared around
Bathgate. We dug through old paperwork in a broken farmhouse, climbed
stairs that hadn’t seend feet in 20 years and destroyed (through
misadventure) a wall that had been built before Churchill had walked on
the planet. We had our hands in the guts of living and dead history.
You’d have thought I was going to be an anthropologist or archaeologist
of some stripe the way I immersed myself in the past. Arms deep as it
were.
We squatted in those fields and with our rough tribe of
peers we listened to music and some of us got high and drunk in the
remains of the British Empire. Not the grand houses or castles, but
the forgotten entrails of industrial estates and disused farms.
I
watched kids lose themselves in what may have been the former grounds
of their Grandfather’s employer. They didn’t see the irony of their
idle decay among the decay of their country. They faced a future of
service jobs and had no idea that the only thing that they would ever
produce in Britain again was culture. This was before the REAL
worldwide rise of Brit Pop in the 90s. These guys are Mothers and
Fathers now, last I heard Stuart was a surfer. Still exploring the
reaches of the British Empire.
Now you ask yourself, what does this have to do with Music?
Well,
British Music exists solely as a reflection of the Music that has come
before, all Music in Britain is measured by it’s predecessor. This is
true in the case of “Kasabian” as it is in the case of “The Beatles”.
All British culture is just “how is this better than this other thing
that came before”, which is probably an outgrowth of the fact that the
British isles are filled to the brim with the remains of the past. One
can hardly walk in one direction for more than an hour without
stumbling over some piece of history older than the houses on your
block.
It’s no wonder the kids squat in fields filled with relics, it’s fairly unavoidable.
I
haven’t been home in over a decade, I don’t know if those fields are
gone or developed. I apparently left Scotland for the last time just
before a huge development boom, when the people were still hard and the
CCTV cameras hadn’t overpopulated the towns. So I don’t know how
things are now, maybe they have cleaned up the Past and moved on.
It’s just a story after all.
- Looking at Amazon’s Graphic Novel Selection and thinking "Soon" #
- Fiddled a bit with my LJ layout – Making brunch #
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