I have to share that with my friend who has an 18 month old.
Just tell her to get a loose edge going near the floor, and put the kid down to play right in front of it--he/she will have a ball!! Cyn (SIL) told me that she wished she could have had Clayton work on the basement walls as well (red velvet w/silver flocking), but the paper was on the top half, paneling on the bottom below the chair rail.
Clayton did have fun when he saw my brother and SIL's brother putting up a wall in the garage to add a weight room. He watched them mark up the cutting places of the boards and sheetrock in pencil, and thought that meant he could do the same on other, more finished walls in the house. Took a while to disabuse him of that notion.
Thanks Allyson! I didn't think about looking under "Warnings" in Crime.
7 frightening foods for the fearless eater
With a picture of a woman selling grilled spiders. Big-ass, grilled spiders.
Re: sea cucumbers:
One major issue, as the Oxford Companion to Food dryly notes: “It is distinctly phallic in appearance, a feature which is underline by its habit of ejecting sticky threads ... when squeezed.”
The Ortolan (a small songbird):
Once captured, the ortolan would traditionally be left in a dark box, where the lack of light would prompt it to gorge itself. When plumped up to three or four times its normal size, the bird would be drowned in a snifter of armagnac, then quickly roasted for six or eight minutes and served hot.
It's the brandy part that usually raises eyebrows; in an era of bolt guns and humane slaughter, drowning your food seems a tad gratuitious. The only obvious corollary is drunken prawns, found on some Singaporean and Indonesian menus, drowned in rice wine. Drowning a rare songbird somehow seems more sadistic than dunking a shrimp in booze.
The traditional means of eating the ortolan is whole — bones, innards and all, except the head or beak, which is bitten off — with the diner's head covered by a napkin.
The upfront explanation of the ritual? This impromptu headgear allows the diner to inhale all the roast bird's earthy, rich aroma.
Huh. That article is the perfect way to temporarily eliminate your appetite.
Still more appetite-ruining goodness:
Many Icelandic delicacies sound bizarre to the American palate, like puffin and svie (singed, boiled sheep's head). But none have more of a reputation than hákarl [HOW-kurl]: quite literally shark meat that traditionally was allowed to rot in the ground. It's typically prepared by burying a washed, gutted side of shark in gravel for six to eight weeks — or more likely nowadays, by soaking it in large plastic vats filled with brine — then allowing it to cure in the open air for another two months. One original purpose of this Viking-era process was to purge urine from sharks' blood and skin. (Sharks have no urinary tract and must secrete urine through their skin.)
After curing, the resulting slab of fish, which has an aroma often described as ammoniac, is covered with a thick brown crust. The crust is cut off and the white flesh inside eaten.
Why is the diner's head covered by a napkin?
You want someone to see you eating that?
I can't remember having had a problem smelling my dinner before. My nose, see, is right above my mouth.
Now, if I were eating that bird, I might put a napkin over the dinner, and I was really looking to be told it was a typo.
I might put a napkin over the dinner, and I was really looking to be told it was a typo.
That was my first thought. Like, you'd cover up the bird before biting its head off.
