Author and gourmand Eli Brown is writing the first-ever ethnic cookbook of Tre-Mang, a small Atlantic island you’ve definitely never heard of.
Around the turn of the 20th century, the islanders of Tre-Mang celebrated a complex and lively heritage, and prepared some truly mouthwatering traditional cuisine: moist cakes, savory side dishes and breads, frothy pâtés, fresh compotes, hearty chowder pies, and much more. Tre-Mang’s people and dishes also happen to be figments of Eli Brown’s imagination. The Alameda, California-based storyteller readily admits that his entire manuscript is an elaborate, loving fabrication.
Fruitless attempts to sell his “real recipes from an imagined island” to timid publishers have prompted Brown to create a Kickstarter campaign. He is going to produce and print his cookbook on his own:
After several prominent publishing houses told me that my latest work was “too lovely and literary to make it in this market” and “exciting and unlike anything we’ve seen. We’d take it if we knew how to market it” and etcetera, I’ve been forced to reconsider my place in the writing world. It would be one thing if I had been rejected because the work needed improvement. But to be told I was writing as well as I could, but that the industry had no place for my particular works, well, that was a shock. It’s a strange conundrum: Editors love my writing—marketing departments reject it on sight.
We all know that the literary industry is sinking, or, as my younger brother so succinctly puts it, “has auto-cannibalized itself.” And so we are left running about trying to catch crumbs from an ever shrinking pie. (This is why we don’t mix metaphors; a sinking, auto-cannibalistic pie should be avoided at all costs.)
I am not willing to surrender. I believe that if editors love my work, readers will, too. And so I’m turning to the grass roots. […] I’m starting a Kickstarter campaign! I’m combining my love of fiction with my love of cooking. The result is an ethnic cookbook based on the cuisine of a culture that doesn’t exist.
The Feasts of Tre-Mang is a most delightful and nourishing premise from yet another internet crowd-sourcing pioneer. Check out this interview with Brown for more background information, and click here to support his Kickstarter drive in its final days for as little as one dollar. (Or as much as $550… and be crowned an Honorary Governor of Tre-mang!)
I’ve spent, I think I can say, an inordinate amount of time browsing through the fetishization of the most mundane activities in order to provide you, dear readers, with interesting material. Yes, it was for you that I watched dozens of Japanese YouTube clips of earwax removal, trapped in a horrific, personal grooming K-hole, desperately trying escape only to do so and realize that most, if not all of the people who would be interested in such a thing are already ensconced in a vast, virtual library of such material. Alas, such is the life of an internet spelunker.
We are not here to talk about earwax removal, however, (though, if you want to I have some videos to show you) no, we’re going to briefly discuss Konapun. Konapun is a Japanese cooking toy that allows the you to create realistic, miniature food with the use of chemicals. It’s like molecular gastronomy — a practice in which people who are bored by food and the idea of it as nourishment torture it into funny shapes and forms with needles and eyedroppers — but without the pretense of being edible.
Update: So Nanna in the comments points out that Bon-Bon is not, indeed, Dutch but Danish which means that I’m an idiot and everything in this article is wrong. Everything except the part about Dutch toilets.
Above, dear reader, you will find a collection of five commercials, circa 1990, for candies produced by Dutch confectioners, Bonbon. These sugary delights have names like Ape Snoten and Smul-Tietjen which crude internet translation informs me is, roughly, Boob Feast in English. That particular treat features a nightmarish and considerable buxom, anthropomorphic cow milking another, non-anthropomorphized cow after which her heaving breasts explode from her shirt making for what must be a record holder for most fetishes in a television commercial. This is only one in a series of ads featuring a plethora of bodily fluids and functions. Please do not let these commercials affect your opinions of the Dutch, however. Yes this seems odd, but no doubt there are more than a few aspects of our culture that would confound the citizens of the Netherlands. No, we should instead save our condescending judgment for their bizarre and unholy toilets, equipped with “inspection shelf”.
There is no disputing that much of Ok Go’s success stems their inventive and often complex videos. The video for their new single “Last Leaf” is no exception. Animated using 2,430 pieces of toast in lieu of celluloid, it makes for a finished product just as flammable but an order of magnitude more delicious.
What’s 26 inches long, weighs three pounds, and would be immensely fun to lube up and brandish menacingly at pumpkin-smashing, house-egging Halloween vandals, preferably while wearing a bloodstained chicken suit? Why, the World’s Largest Gummy Worm, that’s what!
The precocious online shop Vat19 is currently sold out of all five dual flavors of this 4000 calorie candy, but never fear– they’ll be back in stock very soon. Meantime, there’s always The World’s Largest Gummy Bear.
Aleister Crowley, prescription known to many as “The Great Beast” and thought perhaps “The Wickedest Man in the World” was an English Occultist, ampoule mystic, ceremonial Magician… and amateur foodie?
See below for Riz Aleister Crowley, a delectable rice dish. Redolent with aromatic herbs and spices, almonds and green pistachios (rendering it a “Poem of Spring”, Crowley raves), it is meant to be eaten with a lovely curry. This carnal knowledge comes to us courtesy of Professor Jack, who recently conducted some sleuthing in the Crowley Archives at Bird Library, Syracuse University, and generously shared the fruits of his efforts. Should you wish to attempt this recipe in your own kitchen, be forewarned – volumes and weights are virtually non-existent here; Prof. Jack notes that Crowley appears to have been “… less fond of precise measurements than he was of Sex Magicks and defiling nice carpets.”
Posted by Guest Blogger: S. Elizabeth on October 1st, 2010
Filed under Food, Occult | Comments (18)
An exotic new craving on this post Labor Day morning before the start of the work week, even, perhaps, before one’s first steaming sip of strong coffee: a concoction consisting of toasted bread, processed meatstuff, a limp, plasticky piece of American cheese, and a slice of canned pineapple possibly past its expiration date. This, apparently, is “Hawaii Toast”, a delicacy whose existence I was very much ignorant of until just yesterday. Just look at it! Delicious, or what?
Judging from his orgiastic consumption of the things, it would seem Alexander Marcus finds this to be true as well.
His… um… excitement, you’ll soon see, is quite evident.
(via wikipedia) Alexander Marcus … is a persona of the German music producer Felix Rennefeld…
Rennefeld’s music is a mixture of modern electronic club music and folk music, which he has named ‘Electro Lore’, a combination of ‘electro’ and ‘folklore’…Marcus exaggerates many of the clichés present in pop music, and his music videos feature “trashy” objects, such as a recurrent plastic globe called “Globi”. Spiegel Online sees the character as a typical example of a return to pop-art social criticism. Never breaking out of character, he leaves the question of whether he is a parody unanswered:
The idea that the guy might really be as barmy as it seems, remains at least possible.
All hail the caterwauling Carmen Orange. Venerated demigod of public broadcasting, mesmeric and disturbing in equal measure, she haunts the collective memory of multiple generations of Sesame Street-watching children. According to a couple of unconfirmed reports online, she was animated by Jim Henson himself.
