fierynotes: Picture of Destruction, from the Sandman series, reading a book and slinging a guitar. (Default)
This is my front page. If you want me to add you, drop me a line here. Or, add me. Either way, I'll check you out. You can also drop me a line here if, for instance, you don't have my email address. All comments here are screened.

This post also includes every tag I have -- this is because my current LJ style doesn't include a tag index. (At least half of my participation on LJ is on my phone. I chose this style because, as bare-bones as it is, it loads quickly and it's still readable on a small screen.)

I'd tell you more about myself, but that's what my profile -- and the rest of my LJ -- is for.
fierynotes: Picture of Destruction, from the Sandman series, reading a book and slinging a guitar. (Default)
This is half a bottle of Everclear, and the zest of a half-dozen lemons. (Sadly, the Everclear was the 151 proof, not the 190 proof. My state apparently doesn't allow the 190. Still, 151 is a better solvent for this purpose than the 80 proof vodka I was considering until I saw this stuff.)



Isn't it pretty? Only two hours, and it's already turned the alcohol yellow! Imagine what it will look like in a few days! Very soon, I shall add a few other ingredients, put it in tiny bottles, and sell it to desperate men at an absolutely ridiculous markup. After all, if you just put a dab behind each ear and another dab below the navel, all the whores will find you irresistible!

Actually, I tease. After several days, I plan to filter out the lemon zest, water the alcohol down to something reasonable like 80 proof, and add sugar. Even if I can't attend WesterCon in person, I still plan to attend in spirit, and this is one of the spirits I'm asking an old friend to take with her. (One of them was going to be lime, but limes are harder to zest -- the zest part is thin and delicate, and the pith is a real pain to scrape off. I may try again later, or I may give up and go with other ideas.)
fierynotes: Picture of Daimon, from Marvel comics, without a shirt.  'Look at me, I have muscles!' (flirty)
Dear Christina Hendricks,

Those amazing curves belong to you, and as such, they can be used to sell anything you feel like selling (at the risk of stating the obvious). That said... Johnny Walker Black? Really? You sell yourself way too short. I'm sure that dozens of purveyors of good whiskey would have been ecstatic to have you on board. Many people have never tried Laphroaig, but they'd take one look at you with a double, and... okay, okay, bad example. Laphroaig is very much a love-it-or-hate-it whiskey, and enough people would hate it that it might damage your future advertizing capital. Highland Park or Dalmore are both much safer, and both still excellent. Yes, they're both more expensive than Johnny Walker Black, but anyone seeing them in an ad with you won't care!

Sincerely,
[personal profile] fierynotes
fierynotes: Picture of Tarvek, from Girl Genius, facepalming. (facepalm)
Adding a tenth-ounce of dried lavender to a 750 mL bottle of vodka was not as good an idea as I'd hoped. To its credit, it smells like perfume. Unfortunately, it also tastes like perfume. I inflicted this on several people at a party I attended recently, and straight, it was not a success. It wasn't a total loss, though: adding one part the aforementioned lavendery vodka to about five parts lemonade makes an absolutely kick-ass hard lemonade.

Conclusions: I will certainly attempt this again, but with much less lavender. I'm thinking some orange zest might help, too. And if I make Peach Melba again, I may use lavender instead of vanilla in the boiling syrup for the peaches.
fierynotes: Picture of Discord. (discord)
So, you want to make Crêpe Suzette? Hey, go for it! I'm no great chef, and I managed it -- so can you! Along with some vegetable oil, some paper towels, and something to safely start a fire with (and a fire extinguisher), gather the following:

1. 1 cup flour
2. 4 eggs
3. 1¼ cup milk
4. 1 pinch salt
5. 4 tbsp butter
6. 6 more tbsp butter
7. 4 tbsp sugar
8. 1 large orange, juiced
9. ½ cup Grand Marnier

Combine ingredients 1-4 in a blender, but stop the moment it's smooth. Melt ingredient 5, add, and stir until you have something that looks vaguely like watery pancake batter. Then, put it in the fridge for an hour. Do not skip this step -- you don't want bubbles in your crepes!

Take out your batter, and look at it crosseyed. Are you really supposed to make anything resembling a pancake with this? For gods' sake, it looks like a soggy runny milkshake! Oh, well. That's what the internet said, and who are you to argue with the internet? Grab a small pot of water, boil it, and when it's boiling, turn off the heat and put the whole bottle of Grand Marnier in. No, don't pour the Grand Marnier in -- put the bottle itself into the hot water.

Then, lightly oil a flat pan by rubbing an oiled paper towel on the surface, heat to medium, and pour about ¼ cup of batter onto the pan and swirl until it's covered the bottom of the pan. Wait sixty seconds, then flip, then wait thirty seconds, then take off the heat and put it on a plate or something. Repeat this several times, and be glad you made lots of batter because you've messed up quite a few of these! Eventually, you should have a plate of super-thin pancakes.

Now here's the part where you risk burning down the house. In a much bigger pan, you'll be combining ingredients 6-8. Melt the butter until it foams, dissolve the sugar in it, then add the juice, and bring to a simmer.

Now, very quickly, fold a crepe in half, drop it in the sauce, fold in half again. Fold another crepe in half, drop it in the sauce, fold it in half again. Faster, you fool! Hurry up, because each second you delay, the crepes you've already added are sucking up sauce and you don't want that last crepe you add to be cheated of its fair share!

Now, very quickly measure out your half-a-cup of now-quite-warm orangy syrupy boozy goodness (it should be steaming) and pour it over the crepes. Then, set fire to it... oh, wait, never mind, it caught fire all by itself! Awesome! Fire! FIRE! Huh-huh! Fire! Ha ha, fire... wait, was that it? Three fucking seconds of flames? I bought a brand-new hand-held kitchen fire extinguisher for that!? BOOOOOOO!

For just an instant, consider consoling your poor deprived inner pyromaniac, who's been horribly cheated by this pathetic display, by pouring yourself a shot of warm Grand Marnier. After all, it's 40% alcohol; you should be able to get a buzz off it, and since it's so warm, the alcohol will go to your brain like lightning. Oh, wait. No one actually drinks Grand Marnier, because it feels like Glycos, the Greek God of all sugary things, punching you in the throat and kicking you in the groin. Besides, if you drink enough to get drunk, you'll also end up with a wicked sugar high, which will be no end of entertaining for your test subjects to watch, but dear gods, the hangover you'll have the next day...!

(Not that I'm speaking from experience or anything.)

Make a mental note to have a shot of rum or something later. Or next time, use Cointreau instead. For now, your dessert is done! Serve it onto plates, dust with powdered sugar or orange bits for decoration if you like, and watch it get wolfed down. Try to eat it slowly, to savor it... and untimately give up and just inhale the damned thing. And wash the sauce pan promptly, because when you set the sauce on fire, some of the sugar turned to caramel, and caramel is a pain in the ass to remove once it dries.

(Sadly, there is currently no photograph of the completed dish. I meant to include one, as I did with Peach Melba, but I suffered a serious technical difficulty -- the dessert leapt up into people's faces and down their gullets before it could be photographed.)

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fierynotes: Picture of Destruction, from the Sandman series, reading a book and slinging a guitar. (Default)
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