Posts tagged ‘how to’

April 4, 2017

the art of naming your house

by ada

Giving names to your house appears to be a Swiss thing, originated back in those times when white spots on maps were filled with mysterious references to sea monsters, four-horned men and “Here Be Dragons” warnings. In those sweet times you could be living at places dedicated to delightful things like loyalty…

…or rear thighs:

The origin of some names is still a mystery…

… some seem rather obvious, though:

Sometimes naming your house is an interactive process:

My personal favourite is this one (can you guess why?):

Most of the houses are dedicated to simple, joyful living things, like plants…

…or animals:

A whole zoo…

…with a colourful collection of birds:

Weather can also be a great inspiration. The sun rises…

…to a blue sky…

…or to a rainy day:

Of course, things start to get complicated when human race enters with its doubtful attempts at civilisation. Fictive creatures appear at once…

…and bears are forced to dance:

Medieval times are represented by angels…

…giants…

…and balance scales made of gold…

…to measure all your (Swedish) money…

…or shame you for the lack of it:

Virgins are obligatory…

…and such are the things virgins should know nothing about:

For preventing them from getting first-hand knowledge in the art of rear love, virgins have to be safely stored in towers…

…built on the top of green mountains…

…surrounded by green forests…

…and locked tight with keys:

There they can sit and wait for being rescued in the most contemporary way while counting down their time using sandglasses:

To their misfortune, knights do not seem to be available on the streets of Schaffhausen. The Ghost of Communism is haunting it instead!

It stirs up trouble…

…which leads to war.

Luckily, peace always sets in at the end…

…for which we can not be thankful enough!

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December 28, 2016

how to be a magot

by ada

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May 17, 2014

how to be a lemur – on dancing

by ada

lemurs 24

lemurs21

dancing lemur 4

dancing lemur 12

lemurs 23

dancing lemur 5

dancing lemur 1

dancing lemur 10

lemur 13

May 16, 2014

how to be a lemur – on socializing

by ada

lemur 14

gazing lemur

lemurs 16

lemurs 20

lemurs 36

lemurr

lemurs 40

flying lemur 2

lemurs 7

lemurrs

two lemurs

October 9, 2013

how to be an alpine daw

by ada

alpine daw 9

alpine daw

alpine daws 2

alpine daws

alpine daw 12

alpine daw 4

alpine daw flies over Untersberg

alpine daw 6

January 24, 2013

how to make traditional duck gribenes

by ada

Don’t worry, there’s no danger of me becoming a food blogger. Actually, I’m painfully low-maintenance when it comes to food. Before going paleo you could find me eating pasta and tomato sauce on six days a week without getting bored with it. It’s not that I don’t like a good meal, because I rather do, but I just don’t have that big interest in food, neither in eating nor in producing. Let’s put it this way: if somebody else cooks delicious things for me, I happily eat them. If nobody cooks for me, I don’t miss it.

Since switching to the paleo diet I became a bit more interested in what I eat, or, well, at least in the health side of the story. I try to cook every day and eat a variety of foods I didn’t try before. That’s how I ended up with a whole duck (for half price) yesterday, and since our homemade goose gribenes is one of my favourite food since childhood, I decided to give a try to the duck version. And I did what every girl does when in trouble: called my mother for the recipe. They turned out really yummy, but really, I mean, really YUMMY. So I dedicate this post to document this very culinary success of mine (which are oh so very rare, haha.)

Since English is not my first language (not even the second, in fact), I wasn’t able to figure out what’s the proper English word for gribenes. “Cracklings”? “Greaves”? I really don’t feel the difference. One thing is sure: it’s not “pork rinds”, because, well , it’s not pork it’s made of.

Take a duck (goose, chicken are optional), pull its skin off and together with its fat, cut it into small pieces.

duck fat

Put it in a pot with one tablespoon water under it and cook it really slow for about three hours. Don’t cover the pot. If you live in an open space apartment where kitchen, living room and bedroom share the same twenty square metres (like I do), be anxious to close your wardrobe doors, put your coats outside and open the windows. Otherwise you will end up smelling like a giant piece of roasted duck (like I did), which may be appetising for your cat but rather embarrassing for the humans you meet later during the day.

duck fat

While it cooks, it looks like this:

duck gribenes

Later on:

duck gribenes

When the pieces are crispy enough not to make funny noises when pushing them to the side of the pot, you can pour the fat in glass containers and put it in the fridge to cool. So does it look when it’s still warm:

duck fat

And so it does when already solid:

duck fat

The gribenes look like this:

duck gribenes

I mean, like this!

duck gribenes

Eat them when they are still warm and crispy, with bread spread with the fresh duck fat, with fresh spring onions with salt. Or eat them as a snack.

duck gribenes

Well, after writing this post I feel like I’m one of those big paleo bloggers with ten thousands of subscribers who create amazing gluten-free recipes, make homemade coconut deodorants and share their experiences of going no ‘poo. Only that those big paleo bloggers would never eat that occasional slice of bread I still do sometimes, ehem.

duck gribenes

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