Life and Crap.

The blog is obviously down right now. I've been unable to write. This space reserved for future bloggin's, or possibly links to youtube videos. I haven't decided yet. 

Furrow Notebook: A review.

This is a little bit weird.

So, my first post brought you the epic tale of how I came in a roundabout way to have a duck, and the sort of humorous way that I dealt with not knowing how to cook it. 

This installment brings you the roundabout way I came to acquire a prototype notebook. To clarify, this is a physical book with paper pages, not a laptop as most people assumed when I said "notebook", perhaps my vernacular is outdated. I should consult some local youths to aid in updating my vocabulary. But I digress. And my subsequent review of that book. Maybe not the most exciting thing to write about. Certainly, it's no Prison Planet Escape Tactics (coming soon), but I'll see what I can do with it. 

Anyways, to cut a long story sort of short; I am a colossal nerd, in all ways. As in, I like things most people would consider to be nerdy, and I tend to go way overboard on the nerdy things that I like. To demonstrate, here is a picture of a Carnifex that I assembled and painted so that I might crush and devour the living organic material of Space Marines, or Orcs, or Tau. et cetera, ad nauseum. 

Nothing screams excitement like a 10/0 sable paintbrush
and several hours of hyperfocusing your eyes

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, it's ok, that just means that you're normal and probably really shines a light on exactly how nerdy I am. 

The most recent focus of my nerdy obsessions has had to do with writing instruments, a mainstay of most nerds, but specifically, fountain pens. Which are amazing, but not the focus of this entry so I'll leave off on geeking out about them for now. But, due to the relative rarity of information on fountain pens, such as care and maintenance and things of that nature, I found myself joining several message boards and online communities in the interest of enabling my newfound obsession. And on one of these board I found a post calling out for product testers. This is how I came to participate in testing a notebook produced by new company: Furrow Books.   The books, which are not yet in production are the project of Aaron Zeller of The Zeller Writing Company, who aims to produce " unique notebooks made in America out of quality and sustainable materials which allow for fantastic people to use any ruling that they wish at any point in their notebooks through its versatile ruled insert cards." 

Much more excited than I probably should have been, I opened the package to reveal my spoils. And got together my favoured tools of stationary destruction:

The stamp is the only branding on the book at all
a very nice touch if you ask me*.

Ruler is for scale, the book comes with a sheet that is ruled on
one side and graphed on the other, rendering the ruler useless.

Graph on one side

Lined on the other.

The red blotches you see everywhere are because in my ridiculous enthusiasm I twisted the piston on the back of my pen, expelling ink everywhere. You'll see the results of that carnage throughout the first few pages of my tests. I'd like to point out that I don't mind ruining the guide-card at all, since one will be packaged with each book they are easy to replace if it becomes so stained that you can't see the lines. The guide is tough card stock, fits into the book tightly, without much fear of it sliding out by accident. Unless you're gesticulating madly with it all the time, in which case I might recommend an elastic, or some yoga. But whatever, the point is the card is mad useful both as a writing guide, and as a sheet to protect your unused pages from hysterical ink-spraying... 

Though messy, ink explosions are good photo opportunities. 

Moving on. 

I grabbed a bunch of pens:

This photo makes me feel all giddy and squishy inside.

And set about making a huge damned mess:

Much of my test writing amounts to so much gibberish
copied from whatever youtube video on cleaning vintage
pens and avoiding sunlight I had been watching at the time

Though I've used the book to help me solve puzzles in
Final Fantasy VI, which I've been replaying. 

Here I used Shakespeare to practice flex writing
and to check the durability of the paper,
and to be just a little bit pretentious 

Here I've consumed too much coffee, gotten ink all over
everything, copied emo song lyrics with different pens,
and drawn a self portrait. See above. 

I realized after I took this shot that I neglected to take a proper photo of the book before I started dumping ink all over it. Once again, that impulsiveness and lack of planning has thwarted my attempts to do a thing right. Oh well, boldly onward. 

Here is an arty shot of all my pens and what I've done
to the cover of the book. 

A book for all of my favourite things.

I devoted a page to my fountain pen nerdiness
We own a lot of Lamy Nibs. 

hashtag:omglookatmyphotographyskillz

This bit's for the paper nerds:

Turns out I really like this little book, and it's not just because I got it for free. It takes up a very small amount of space in my bag, but is as useful for multiple applications, the cover is nice and stiff and durable and the paper inside has a beautiful texture for writing on, it's not as smooth as Rhodia, but offers no resistance or feedback. There was only bleedthrough when I was getting thoroughly stupid with the ink. I got almost no ghosting with the Noodler's X-feather, and if you're using an F or EF nib, you should be able to use both sides of the paper no problem. 

The book is nice and light, big enough to be really useful, but not so big as to be obtrusive. It is an excellent book for rough work, taking notes, shaping ideas, or anything else you like to use paper for. And if fountain pens aren't what gets you consuming paper, I found that pencils didn't chew up the paper surface, and neither did erasers. Likewise on the cover, I did some heavy erasing and it didn't destroy it even a little bit. 

Given its size, and the enclosed grid/line guide card, I would deem these as excellent for people who like to hand-draw their own comics. I hear tell the final product will be a two pack of the large (5.5"x8") book and a three pack of the small(3.5"x5.5"). Kind of makes me want to take my Flash-Bang! concept to the next level... But I digress yet again. 

There it is. The convoluted tale of how I got a free notebook that doesn't exist yet , and my subsequent review of said notebook. They will be running a kickstarter for the project I think, in the next couple of weeks. I'll post the link here once it's up and running. Good book, I'll probably buy these, pending availability in Canada. 

 So, to Aaron Zeller, of Zeller Writing Co, thank you very much for the chance to help develop your product. And to everyone else, I'll see you next time when I discuss the value of deviled eggs and their long-term effects on the economy. 

Later.

 *In the final version, the Furrow Books logo, along with "Proudly produced in the heartland of America  • Omaha, Nebraska" will be printed on the lower center of the books. The front and interiors of the books will remain totally blank . 

What the Duck?!

In which I consume alcohol and roast a duck late into the evening. 

Some months ago, through several convoluted events, I came into possession of a frozen duck. I am not a person known for their cooking skills, I barely tackle anything more complicated than some pasta sauce, or throwing some crap into a crockpot. But that's besides the point. The point is I have this duck: 

This is the fowl in question, I think he looks suspicious.

And no fucking clue what to do with it. 

Enter fellow nerd, Dana, my hilariously witty friend who also happens to be a food blogger. Our weekly hangouts are always an adventure in nerdy domesticity. We paint Warhammer models: 

In the grim darkness of the far future there is only foie gras

We go on musical Youtube journeys, play video games, and we occasionally make food. (note: we piloted the recipe on a Saturday, and she did the soup again the very next day with the addition of the croutons: that's how amazingly delicious that soup was) So, I had the brilliant idea that we would blog the preparation of this duck. It would benefit us both, Killing Thyme gets to blog a duck, a meal that isn't too common, and I get to eat delicious duck. Win-Win (except for the duck). Now, the success of this plan hinged mainly on Dana's cooking and photography skills, as well as her mad wit. I'm sort of a tag along when it comes to the cooking thing. When we made soup, I cleaned a fountain pen while she did all the work. Yeah, it's like that.

Right, onto the duck. It so happens that when you intend to cook a duck from frozen you have to thaw that fucker out. It takes DAYS, seriously. Especially in my insane refrigerator, wherein the front of the fridge is not sufficiently cold to keep butter hard, yet at the back liquids freeze.  I put the bird in the fridge on Tuesday, we intended to cook it on Saturday. AND THEN DANA WAS KIDNAPPED BY GOBLINS! or got a cold, either way: TOTAL DISASTER!  I had no choice, it had to be cooked. I was going to wait until Sunday, so that we could eat it at a normal time. But then on Saturday I got bored and hungry, the decision was made for me when I opened the fridge and discovered the damned thing had leaked duck.. liquids everywhere. It was now or never. I charged into battle! 

SHOW ME YOUR WAR FACE

I could not allow this web footed martyr to have died in vain. Even though it was contaminating my cold-box. After I determined that it had not spoiled, and cleaned the disgusting pink duck-juice out of everything. I spun my plan into action. 

I gave this duck-roasting guide, sent to me by the ever-prepared Dana, an extremely brief cursory glance. And then I set about turning this posthumously defiant avian into food. Without even sparing a thought as to whether or not I had everything I needed (I did not), I started to prepare the duck haphazardly, occasionally stopping to snap a photo. Hoping that it would just work out and be delicious (spoilers: it was) 

First: I took the duck, and rinsed it out, because the inside was still slightly frozen, and the neck and giblets were stuck inside. I tore them out and set them aside to be boiled. No pictures, because my hands were covered in duck guts, and I was feeling mighty indeed. Consulting this extremely thorough and useful guide  I made the duck look like this: 

Most of these scores were too deep,
in my bloodlust I cut through the fat right into the meat.

More slashes that were supposed to be scores.
I was channeling Toshiro Mifune by this point. 

Then I got distracted and turned this: 

For best effect, use liberal amounts.

Into this:

brrrrap!

Then, even though this amazing guide that saved my life, did my taxes, and saved a dozen orphaned baby nuns from a horde of slavering warp-creatures, does not include a recipe for stuffing I thought it would be best if I put something inside the duck, to keep it company inside the fiery heart of my oven. I did that as follows: 

CELERY!

MORE DIFFERENT CELERY!

GARLIC!

EVISCERATED GARLIC! 

ONION: LIVE AND UNCUT!

ONION: TIESTO SUPERMIX

Then I added some of this stuff to the resultant heap of mangled produce (the little bottle is sage, or what passes for sage in the probably toxic spice set I got on sale):

"Sanka, you dead?" "Yeah, mon."

Behemoth was intensely interested in all the kitchen happenings, but failed to be a successful kitchen assistant, as he has no thumbs and wants to eat everything raw.  

You can not let your guard down for one minute.

So, I had another beer: 

"Mandatory Yakov Smirnoff joke."

And then I put all the vegetables in the duck! 

Yeah.. Anyways...

 It was at this point that I realized that I didn't have any butcher's twine because I'm not a cook, and I was already feeling the effects of the liquid Russian weaponry combining with the bloody zeal of  Viking beer, and I know that I was going to have to improvise, because going to get anything was just not happening:

Macgyvered that shit with the tinfoil. 

It was at this point that the drawbacks of haste were becoming apparent: I was rapidly losing the sunlight, making picture taking (not my strongest skill) difficult. As well I had been missing several things needed for success. Like the appropriate tools, ingredients, and time. Lucky for me I have a willing spouse who ran out to get the ingredients for the glaze, which I had only just realized I didn't have, and I was able to jury rig replacements to make up for the tools I lacked (like a proper roasting pan/ grill, twine, properly sharp knife).  

After an hour of roasting and another beer the duck looked like this: 

If it looks like a duck...

Flipped:

Like I give a duck.

And ovened again for another beer, resulting in this:  

It also resulted in me forgetting to take a shot before I flipped it.

More cookening and beerenation!!! 

Looking through the photos it looks like I just gave up on being thorough. 

I put it back in the oven and then set about making a sticky, sloppy mess all over my stove with this stuff: 

This is what you need to make glory juice. 

Still following these completely perfect instructions that helped me do the dishes afterward I prepared the glaze, and applied it to the bird. I didn't take pictures of this because I was trying very hard not to spill molten, chili-infused honey all over myself. Once the operation was completed and I blasted the bird at 400°F for ten minutes. This is the final result. You'll note that I don't plate or nicely present the bird. By this point I was drunk and ravenous, singing sea shanties and swinging from chandeliers like a pirate. The bird was devoured right off the broiling pan, with our hands. WARNING: CARNAGE 

The GLAZING! 

Moments before the frenzy. 

We pretended to be civilized enough to use forks.
You'll note the forks don't have any duck on them.

I paused to take one more shot of my triumph.

But then shit got real. 

That escalated quickly. 

Fork is still perfectly clean. 

Once the bones were picked clean I picked up the pan and promptly covered my favourite jeans with hot, greasy duck juice:

Nobody's going to notice that stain, really. 

And thus ends the saga of the Random duck that found its way into my freezer. Next time: The value of preparation and forethought.

Bye bye.