Ok...A1 Sauce, not worchestershire sauce. Got it.
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No....no you haven't....Ok...A1 Sauce, not worchestershire sauce. Got it.
Which is worse - tooth decay or smartphonitis?
We grow our own hot peppers...
The Thai Yellows are to die of....![]()
Hmm, that looks suspiciously like some stuff I used to use in the darkroom, just, repackaged>
Got any sushi chefs up your way?I'm trying to find a good recipe for lox. We have a bunch of salmon that I'd love to slice up and use for lox...
HP is the most commonly found and is usually considered to be the best.....

HP is the most commonly found and is usually considered to be the best.....
Both Daddies sauce and Chef sauce are variations on the same theme.....All good......![]()
We feeling poetic this morning Contessa?.....Never did see that Kodak toner. My own darkroom time was black and white. The best part in there was a Leitz enlarger. Had no clue as a kid what was right in front of me. In that thought, I may very well have seen that toner and it skipped, then sunk like a stone tossed on the calm water of my consciousness. The memory may still be resting on the river bed of awareness for fish to pewp on.
Ha, maybe I put La Contessa back in my sig? A nickname from university, and as nicknames go ain't so bad. There are some pretty confounding nicknames out there. Thinking Animal House.

Hmm, that looks suspiciously like some stuff I used to use in the darkroom, just, repackaged
View attachment 3595988
Speaking of brown stuff, anybody ever heard of Kodak T-9 Uranium Toner
Haven't read any Rousseau....I DID read a book once though.....I seem to remember that it was green......hmmm...It started innocently enough ....
And when a tale begins with that phrase, the promise is a tale worth hearing. So going to say the tale of my nickname didn't begin very innocently.
That has to do with a gentleman who invited me to join him for his night shift at a very small radio station in Geneva. He showed me to a free studio with no live mike, where I had the run of everything including a typewriter. So it's the typewriter's fault, really. Or the oscilloscope. There was a turntable, and one LP record. That record was The Stripper. Georges may yet have the material I wrote. It is unusual material in that I was reading La Nouvelle Heloise by Jean-Jaques Rousseau, and I was having a fine old time with that and the typewriter.
That's where the nickname came from.
....It started innocently enough ....
And when a tale begins with that phrase, the promise is a tale worth hearing. So going to say the tale of my nickname didn't begin very innocently.
That has to do with a gentleman who invited me to join him for his night shift at a very small radio station in Geneva. He showed me to a free studio with no live mike, where I had the run of everything including a typewriter. So it's the typewriter's fault, really. Or the oscilloscope. There was a turntable, and one LP record. That record was The Stripper. Georges may yet have the material I wrote. It is unusual material in that I was reading La Nouvelle Heloise by Jean-Jaques Rousseau, and I was having a fine old time with that and the typewriter.
That's where the nickname came from.
Typewriter repairman was a Thing.
In a certain timeline it is possible to receive a loaner pen when you take your fountain pen in for repair. The failure point was usually the rubber sac behind the feed. Lot of engineering time went into perfecting the fountain pen, with predictable flops.
The coolest fountain pen I own is the venerable Sheaffer Snorkel. It's just what it sounds like. A small tube extends from the feed and sucks the ink in with a downstroke of the rear assembly. Made for an ink squirt gun, and the Snorkel was widely banned in schools. Also banned from the classroom was Sheaffer Peacock Blue ink because of its retina-searing powers. I've a bottle or three of ink that's somewhat close to the old Peacock Blue. Filled my "everyday carry" pen last night with Bleu Pervenche as I filled out my form for the doctor I see in a few minutes for arthritis in my ankle.
... ... and it skipped, then sunk like a stone tossed on the calm water of my consciousness. The memory may still be resting on the river bed of awareness for fish to pewp on.