I received a surprise sample of Meiguo/American Hao 0904 from Jim, the proprietor of Puerhshop.com, and many days and weeks of moving, unpacking, and procrastinating, Davin and I finally completed our tea room and had someone over for tea. We began our drinking with this sample.
Having misplaced my memories of the good review and cake naming drama over at Hobbes's blog, we were able to approach this tea with pleasurable naïveté. The first two infusions laid thick on the tongue, a bit smoky and meaty, with a sweet aftertaste. The tea maintained its strength through over 10 infusions, and although the never reached any appreciable layer of complexity, we all enjoyed it and felt it had promise for aging.
Another good sign: after drinking a 1999 brick made for export to Mongolia and a bowl of matcha thereafter, the aftertaste of Meiguo Hao 0904 kept its foothold on our tastebuds, renewed after we finished the other teas.
When I saw the provenence--Mahei Village, Yiwu--the tea's characteristics made sense. And at $44, perhaps the tea merits a purchase for those with Yiwu underrepresented in their collections. But for me, with my ridiculous amounts of young pu'er, I couldn't justify buying it. That said, I plan to thoroughly enjoy the rest of my sample.
Having misplaced my memories of the good review and cake naming drama over at Hobbes's blog, we were able to approach this tea with pleasurable naïveté. The first two infusions laid thick on the tongue, a bit smoky and meaty, with a sweet aftertaste. The tea maintained its strength through over 10 infusions, and although the never reached any appreciable layer of complexity, we all enjoyed it and felt it had promise for aging.
Another good sign: after drinking a 1999 brick made for export to Mongolia and a bowl of matcha thereafter, the aftertaste of Meiguo Hao 0904 kept its foothold on our tastebuds, renewed after we finished the other teas.
When I saw the provenence--Mahei Village, Yiwu--the tea's characteristics made sense. And at $44, perhaps the tea merits a purchase for those with Yiwu underrepresented in their collections. But for me, with my ridiculous amounts of young pu'er, I couldn't justify buying it. That said, I plan to thoroughly enjoy the rest of my sample.
Labels: 2009, mahei village, pu'er, sheng, yiwu
Last Saturday at the pottery studio, I was uninspired. The previous day, I had thrown two small teapot bodies and lids, and as the pieces dried and shrank, one pot's lid did not shrink enough, and no longer fit. Somewhat disappointed in my fixing the lid too tight, my work moved to handbuilding the handles and spouts for the pots. I slowly caressed and stretched the red stoneware into passable forms, but frequently found my thoughts far from the clay between my fingers, my gaze wandering to the magnolia trees outside. Looking forward to my trip to the mountains, my eyes wouldn't look at my work.
Davin and I tested the limits of his hybrid car that evening, driving the steep roads up to Rimforest, a small community near Lake Arrowhead and on the path to Big Bear Lake. Under her pines, oaks, and cedars, the sparkling San Bernardino city lights enchanting us, we spent a relaxing night at my sister's house there, giddily inflated with clean air and elevation.
The morning put Davin, my sister, my brother-in-law, and I on the road to Big Bear. Where my thoughts at the studio strayed to the mountains, my thoughts in the car connected the mountain scenery with pottery. Each exposed trove of decomposed granite, every naked ochre-lined cliff made me want to fly out of the car and eat at the clay like a wild parrot. The anticipation of our hike to a natural spring, however, clipped my wings and sat my behind firmly in my seat, the fall foliage flying by.
A friend who used to reside in Big Bear told me of the spring. He recently brought some spring water down the mountain for us to use for tea, and I wanted to gather more for myself and my own experimentation. He gave me a map, and I decided to hunt for the spring.
We easily found the spring, located not too far off a dirt access road. Bursting forth from the recent rains, the outflow like a geyser, the spring fed a small stream that likely emptied into the lake below. The three one-gallon jugs we brought quickly filled with cold spring water, and we spent the afternoon hiking around the area. Wild roses brambled about the pines and yellow shrubs, showing juicy, red, puckering hips, their stalks bristled with thorns like a hair brush. Bark mulch and dead trees, pine saplings and baby ferns, decomposition yielded to new growth.
My sister gathered leaves to press. I gathered beetle-eaten, twisted twigs to use for teapot handles. We all took home the sights, smells, and soft taste of the cold spring water.
Back at my sister's, I gathered stray acorns to use for knobs, and cleaned out her fireplace ash to use for glaze. Happy for a haul of free, local materials, natural inspiration, and good company, I sat in contented silence for the drive down the mountain and homeward. Although I returned home loaded with water, twigs, and ash, at the threshold of the door I felt a tinge of sadness for the one thing I forgot to take: photographs.
Davin and I tested the limits of his hybrid car that evening, driving the steep roads up to Rimforest, a small community near Lake Arrowhead and on the path to Big Bear Lake. Under her pines, oaks, and cedars, the sparkling San Bernardino city lights enchanting us, we spent a relaxing night at my sister's house there, giddily inflated with clean air and elevation.
The morning put Davin, my sister, my brother-in-law, and I on the road to Big Bear. Where my thoughts at the studio strayed to the mountains, my thoughts in the car connected the mountain scenery with pottery. Each exposed trove of decomposed granite, every naked ochre-lined cliff made me want to fly out of the car and eat at the clay like a wild parrot. The anticipation of our hike to a natural spring, however, clipped my wings and sat my behind firmly in my seat, the fall foliage flying by.
A friend who used to reside in Big Bear told me of the spring. He recently brought some spring water down the mountain for us to use for tea, and I wanted to gather more for myself and my own experimentation. He gave me a map, and I decided to hunt for the spring.
We easily found the spring, located not too far off a dirt access road. Bursting forth from the recent rains, the outflow like a geyser, the spring fed a small stream that likely emptied into the lake below. The three one-gallon jugs we brought quickly filled with cold spring water, and we spent the afternoon hiking around the area. Wild roses brambled about the pines and yellow shrubs, showing juicy, red, puckering hips, their stalks bristled with thorns like a hair brush. Bark mulch and dead trees, pine saplings and baby ferns, decomposition yielded to new growth.
My sister gathered leaves to press. I gathered beetle-eaten, twisted twigs to use for teapot handles. We all took home the sights, smells, and soft taste of the cold spring water.
Back at my sister's, I gathered stray acorns to use for knobs, and cleaned out her fireplace ash to use for glaze. Happy for a haul of free, local materials, natural inspiration, and good company, I sat in contented silence for the drive down the mountain and homeward. Although I returned home loaded with water, twigs, and ash, at the threshold of the door I felt a tinge of sadness for the one thing I forgot to take: photographs.
An announcement:
Some folks from the studio and I are holding a sidewalk sale of our student artwork this saturday from 11a-2p at the studio:
Bitter Root Pottery
7451 Beverly Boulevard (at Vista, a few blocks east of Fairfax)
There's a lot of really good work and talent at the studio. I will have lots of jars and a few gaiwans and sake bottles with me.
Come by and see us!
Some folks from the studio and I are holding a sidewalk sale of our student artwork this saturday from 11a-2p at the studio:
Bitter Root Pottery
7451 Beverly Boulevard (at Vista, a few blocks east of Fairfax)
There's a lot of really good work and talent at the studio. I will have lots of jars and a few gaiwans and sake bottles with me.
Come by and see us!
Labels: pottery
Congratulations to Imen Shan & Tea Habitat
1 Comments Published by Jason Fasi on 19 August 2009 at 12:40 PM.
I wanted to send a message of congratulations to our LA tea sister and proprietress of local tea house Tea Habitat, Imen Shan, for her front page writeup in The Los Angeles Times Food section: http://www.webcitation.org/5j9Spt0j7
I hope the feature brings her many more tea-loving customers and greater success in the future. It's well deserved!
I hope the feature brings her many more tea-loving customers and greater success in the future. It's well deserved!
Labels: tea habitat
The 2008 World Tea Expo offered its guests the first public tasting of the first teas being commercially grown in the US for the high-end US tea market--the green, white, oolong, and black teas of Hawai'i.
However, the tea brewers sadly had to prepare tea for 50, brewing them at too low of temperature, all with the same water, Western style. I thought this an unfortunate coming out for America's first boutique tea. So when I read that Narien Teas of Florida began distributing the first commercial batch of Hawai'ian green tea to hit the market, called Kilinoe ("Misty Rain") I jumped at the opportunity to purchase some and give our homegrown tea a second chance.
Kilinoe is grown on Mauna Loa on the big island of Hawai'i. It's marketed as sustainable and eco-grown, and from the somewhat cultish WWOOF ads I've seen online, I do believe it.
In its foil pouch, Kilinoe smells like sugar and cream with a slight vegetal hint. Its long and twisted leaves gave me impressions visual and olfactory of Yunnan maocha fresh off the straw drying mats.
In the gaiwan, it smells strongly of citrus peel and sweet grass. It tastes much the way it smells at first, developing a richer maocha flavor with citrus highlights. The creamy texture reminded Davin of white rice.
The aftertaste, while present, disappears sooner than I'd like. About a 5-cup green, in later infusions it tastes so much like a lighter flavored green pu'er that I find it hard to justify the price: at $1 per gram, Kilinoe costs more than any other green tea that has passed my lips. In fact, my criticisms of Hawai'ian teas at the Expo included dismay at how light they were.
Still, Kilinoe is a pretty good hand-picked boutique green with soft energy and light, non-fishy, non-chickeny flavors. Fans of green tea would do well to spend the $9 on a sample, if only to see the budding potential of Hawai'i's boutique greens.
However, the tea brewers sadly had to prepare tea for 50, brewing them at too low of temperature, all with the same water, Western style. I thought this an unfortunate coming out for America's first boutique tea. So when I read that Narien Teas of Florida began distributing the first commercial batch of Hawai'ian green tea to hit the market, called Kilinoe ("Misty Rain") I jumped at the opportunity to purchase some and give our homegrown tea a second chance.
Kilinoe is grown on Mauna Loa on the big island of Hawai'i. It's marketed as sustainable and eco-grown, and from the somewhat cultish WWOOF ads I've seen online, I do believe it.
In its foil pouch, Kilinoe smells like sugar and cream with a slight vegetal hint. Its long and twisted leaves gave me impressions visual and olfactory of Yunnan maocha fresh off the straw drying mats.
In the gaiwan, it smells strongly of citrus peel and sweet grass. It tastes much the way it smells at first, developing a richer maocha flavor with citrus highlights. The creamy texture reminded Davin of white rice.
The aftertaste, while present, disappears sooner than I'd like. About a 5-cup green, in later infusions it tastes so much like a lighter flavored green pu'er that I find it hard to justify the price: at $1 per gram, Kilinoe costs more than any other green tea that has passed my lips. In fact, my criticisms of Hawai'ian teas at the Expo included dismay at how light they were.
Still, Kilinoe is a pretty good hand-picked boutique green with soft energy and light, non-fishy, non-chickeny flavors. Fans of green tea would do well to spend the $9 on a sample, if only to see the budding potential of Hawai'i's boutique greens.
At the moment I have Menghai Factory's 2005 "Ba Ji Pu Bing" (Grade 8 Pu'er Cake) in my cup. I'm on my second day of drinking this good, mild shu pu'er.
Yesterday marked 48 hours spent brewing many infusions from the same pot of gao shan leaves before I tossed them out. They probably could have continued juicing, but two days was enough.
8 days ago, I ended a 3 day brewing session of a pot of a Taiwanese oolong, an inexpensive Alishan from a local store.
In attempting to place the reason why one pot of leaves could go so long, the idea that these teas were better than those I encountered previously crossed my mind. These teas, though, were relatively inexpensive, except for the Ba Ji Pu Bing (which is no longer available from online vendors). The oolongs taste good, but have textures and aftertastes that are only acceptable. Better leaf appeared an incomplete answer.
Next I suspected that perhaps my brewing improved. Also not the answer.
Today I realize I am using more leaf and initially brewing faster, in a kind of reverse Grandpa-style, or a hyper gongfu. Later infusions I brew longer, and what I discover is that, with the additional leaf, the teas brew some flavor for at least 2 work days full of drinking, often longer. For about a third more leaves, I get another day of brewing, saving me that other 2/3 that would have been in the next day's pot.
This frugality is truly ridiculous for someone with as much tea on hand as I am grateful to have. I may go back to my old style, simply to make the leaf cycle of jar-teapot-compost move faster. But when I'm lazy and wanting to pay little attention to my tea at the office, this method works great.
Thought I'd pass it on, and I'm curious if anyone else does something similar or to the same end.
Yesterday marked 48 hours spent brewing many infusions from the same pot of gao shan leaves before I tossed them out. They probably could have continued juicing, but two days was enough.
8 days ago, I ended a 3 day brewing session of a pot of a Taiwanese oolong, an inexpensive Alishan from a local store.
In attempting to place the reason why one pot of leaves could go so long, the idea that these teas were better than those I encountered previously crossed my mind. These teas, though, were relatively inexpensive, except for the Ba Ji Pu Bing (which is no longer available from online vendors). The oolongs taste good, but have textures and aftertastes that are only acceptable. Better leaf appeared an incomplete answer.
Next I suspected that perhaps my brewing improved. Also not the answer.
Today I realize I am using more leaf and initially brewing faster, in a kind of reverse Grandpa-style, or a hyper gongfu. Later infusions I brew longer, and what I discover is that, with the additional leaf, the teas brew some flavor for at least 2 work days full of drinking, often longer. For about a third more leaves, I get another day of brewing, saving me that other 2/3 that would have been in the next day's pot.
This frugality is truly ridiculous for someone with as much tea on hand as I am grateful to have. I may go back to my old style, simply to make the leaf cycle of jar-teapot-compost move faster. But when I'm lazy and wanting to pay little attention to my tea at the office, this method works great.
Thought I'd pass it on, and I'm curious if anyone else does something similar or to the same end.
Labels: brewing technique, oolong, pu'er
Glaze and Surface Texture Explorations
0 Comments Published by Jason Fasi on 25 June 2009 at 11:16 AM.
Absence
It's been a long while since I posted to my blog. A few things have happened to cause the delay.
First, I had an emergency move to a new apartment. The new place has very little natural light, and my attempts at macro photography of my tea sessions and pottery pieces yielded very poor results, jeapordizing my commitment to make this a visual blog.
Second, my routine quickly became: wake, work, cook, clean, pottery, gym, sleep. On weekends, I have been visiting my ailing father, building a container garden, traveling for business school interviews, and occasionally having tea with the LA Tea Affair or other groups of friends.
I have returned, macro photo studio in tow. The brown background pics are the last photos of work I took at the old apartment. The white background pics are new pieces. Many more to come in the following weeks.
Currently, my studio time has me exploring lidded forms, glaze calculation, and surface texture.
Form
Initially, progressing through pottery in the order of bowl, cylinder, vase, lidded form, teapot seemed the most logical in terms of building skills. While that may still hold true, I failed to realize that somewhere along the way I might get stuck or, as is the case, choose to stay in one subcategory of forms because I enjoy them so much. The progression above also indicates naivete about other variables: some pieces are easy in one size, more difficult in another, and the kind of clay used (stoneware, porcelain, sandy stoneware, etc.) also influences the relative ease.
Formulation
Glaze calculation's science and adjacency to cooking captured my interest, too. After reading up on the subject, I have been experimenting with altering glaze recipes, and have produced some nice variants (and ridiculous failures). Without my own kiln, though, formulating recipes from scratch will prove a time-consuming process.
Above is a glaze layering combo whose results suprised me. The Mother of Pearl glaze melts the black glaze I applied over it, creating a bluish fur texture. Detail:
Here's the same combo on a kyuusu-style teapot I made. The spout, while better and more functional than my last, hideous teapot, still needs major work. Unfortunately, I neglected to poke a hole in the lid for proper air pressure. The lid fits so tightly that water does not come out when the pot is full.
Texture
I have picked up some tips & tricks regarding surface texture. The two jars below form the results of two variants of a single process. With the first jar, it gives the piece a texture like human skin, though the photographs capture this poorly:
In this jar, dry clay and small holes acecnt the slight cracking texture. I really like the raw earth look to the piece.
I have new pieces that take this technique farther, but I am waiting for them to finish firing. I will share them soon.
Hopefully, though, my next entry will be a tea entry.
It's been a long while since I posted to my blog. A few things have happened to cause the delay.
First, I had an emergency move to a new apartment. The new place has very little natural light, and my attempts at macro photography of my tea sessions and pottery pieces yielded very poor results, jeapordizing my commitment to make this a visual blog.
Second, my routine quickly became: wake, work, cook, clean, pottery, gym, sleep. On weekends, I have been visiting my ailing father, building a container garden, traveling for business school interviews, and occasionally having tea with the LA Tea Affair or other groups of friends.
I have returned, macro photo studio in tow. The brown background pics are the last photos of work I took at the old apartment. The white background pics are new pieces. Many more to come in the following weeks.
Currently, my studio time has me exploring lidded forms, glaze calculation, and surface texture.
Form
Initially, progressing through pottery in the order of bowl, cylinder, vase, lidded form, teapot seemed the most logical in terms of building skills. While that may still hold true, I failed to realize that somewhere along the way I might get stuck or, as is the case, choose to stay in one subcategory of forms because I enjoy them so much. The progression above also indicates naivete about other variables: some pieces are easy in one size, more difficult in another, and the kind of clay used (stoneware, porcelain, sandy stoneware, etc.) also influences the relative ease.
Formulation
Glaze calculation's science and adjacency to cooking captured my interest, too. After reading up on the subject, I have been experimenting with altering glaze recipes, and have produced some nice variants (and ridiculous failures). Without my own kiln, though, formulating recipes from scratch will prove a time-consuming process.
Above is a glaze layering combo whose results suprised me. The Mother of Pearl glaze melts the black glaze I applied over it, creating a bluish fur texture. Detail:
Here's the same combo on a kyuusu-style teapot I made. The spout, while better and more functional than my last, hideous teapot, still needs major work. Unfortunately, I neglected to poke a hole in the lid for proper air pressure. The lid fits so tightly that water does not come out when the pot is full.
Texture
I have picked up some tips & tricks regarding surface texture. The two jars below form the results of two variants of a single process. With the first jar, it gives the piece a texture like human skin, though the photographs capture this poorly:
In this jar, dry clay and small holes acecnt the slight cracking texture. I really like the raw earth look to the piece.
I have new pieces that take this technique farther, but I am waiting for them to finish firing. I will share them soon.
Hopefully, though, my next entry will be a tea entry.
Labels: pottery
Gaiwans & Pitchers, Cups, a Jar, and an Ugly Teapot
13 Comments Published by Jason Fasi on 20 March 2009 at 11:12 AM.
New works out of the kiln. I'm still figuring out the best curves and knob styles for gaiwans, ones that avoid burning heat but are still comfortable to hold and functional. I'm happy with the glazes, mostly.
Gaiwans & Pitchers:
Black and Blue Gaiwan:
This started as a project for ABX from Teachat. He wanted a "drippy" blue and black gaiwan that was somewhat small and wider.
I'm really pleased with the result, but I need to use less blue glaze next time. First, I think the exterior of the piece doesn't utilize the black as negative space, not as well as it could. Second, the glaze dripped onto the foot of the piece, and I had to chip the foot to get the piece off the kiln shelf.
But, the interior is great:
Mother of Pearl Gaiwan with Slip Decoration:
Love this glaze. This gaiwan pours well without burning my fingers, but it's a little wide. Small hands might have trouble with it.
Mother of Pearl Set, Ming-lidded Gaiwan and Pitcher:
The lid's not quite deep enough, and it gets somewhat hot. Thankfully, though, the pitcher pours well.
Closeup of the pitcher glaze:
Mother of Pearl Pitcher:
An experiment with throating the spout. Still need to test the pour against other pitchers I've made.
Cups:
Several sets of mother-of-pearl glazed cups. The set of three has thicker glaze, hence the foggier texture. The thinner glaze and ribs on the other cups bring out the pinks and blues of the glaze. The cups are quite small and suitable for gongfu.
Jar:
Tri-lobed Jar in Green Satin Glaze
This glaze usually doesn't move, but it moved enough to stick to the shelf, so the foot is slightly damaged. But, the rest of it is gorgeous. I really like the shape. Two lids for better tea storage ability.
Inner lid:
My First Teapot:
Well, I tried. The spout and handle are too big and the glaze went orange. The spout torqued in the firing, so it's slightly crooked in addition to being oversized and hideous. Throwing spouts, I learned, requires a lot of skill that I do not yet have.
The handle, while it looks disproportionate, is comfortable to hold. That's probably the only plus.
Gaiwans & Pitchers:
Black and Blue Gaiwan:
This started as a project for ABX from Teachat. He wanted a "drippy" blue and black gaiwan that was somewhat small and wider.
I'm really pleased with the result, but I need to use less blue glaze next time. First, I think the exterior of the piece doesn't utilize the black as negative space, not as well as it could. Second, the glaze dripped onto the foot of the piece, and I had to chip the foot to get the piece off the kiln shelf.
But, the interior is great:
Mother of Pearl Gaiwan with Slip Decoration:
Love this glaze. This gaiwan pours well without burning my fingers, but it's a little wide. Small hands might have trouble with it.
Mother of Pearl Set, Ming-lidded Gaiwan and Pitcher:
The lid's not quite deep enough, and it gets somewhat hot. Thankfully, though, the pitcher pours well.
Closeup of the pitcher glaze:
Mother of Pearl Pitcher:
An experiment with throating the spout. Still need to test the pour against other pitchers I've made.
Cups:
Several sets of mother-of-pearl glazed cups. The set of three has thicker glaze, hence the foggier texture. The thinner glaze and ribs on the other cups bring out the pinks and blues of the glaze. The cups are quite small and suitable for gongfu.
Jar:
Tri-lobed Jar in Green Satin Glaze
This glaze usually doesn't move, but it moved enough to stick to the shelf, so the foot is slightly damaged. But, the rest of it is gorgeous. I really like the shape. Two lids for better tea storage ability.
Inner lid:
My First Teapot:
Well, I tried. The spout and handle are too big and the glaze went orange. The spout torqued in the firing, so it's slightly crooked in addition to being oversized and hideous. Throwing spouts, I learned, requires a lot of skill that I do not yet have.
The handle, while it looks disproportionate, is comfortable to hold. That's probably the only plus.
Labels: pottery
Davin and I will be displaying our pottery and making tea for the visitors at our studio's student show. If you're in LA, feel free to stop by and say hi! We will only be at the evening show.
21 and over only: vodka, beer, appetizers (we have a chef!) and tea will be served.
21 and over only: vodka, beer, appetizers (we have a chef!) and tea will be served.
Labels: pottery
LA Tea Affair 2nd Anniversary Event
7 Comments Published by Jason Fasi on 07 March 2009 at 10:25 AM.
(Photo: Will)
LA Tea Affair events have been some of the most fun tea drinking I have experienced since coming back from Asia. Those of you within driving distance of Los Angeles do not know what you are missing if you haven't come to an LA Tea Affair event yet.
(Photos: Tom)
A few weeks ago we celebrated our 2nd anniversary with an outdoor tea at the California Institute of Technology, drinking tea from 1:30 p.m. until past sundown. The recent rains cleared up for the day, and we enjoyed tea, cheese, honey, fresh air and good company.
Jason with honey. Dan unimpressed. (Photo: Will)
Pu'er and oolong were on the menu:
- 2007 Spring Yiwu Cha Wang of Chen Guang He Tang, Hou De Asian Art
- 2007 Spring Fèng Huáng Dòng Dǐng (凤凰冻顶) (Classic Roast), Teamasters
- 2008 Ròuguì (肉桂) of Lin Ping Xiang, Cloudwalker Teas
- 2008 Sòng Zhǒng Dān Cóng（宋种单丛), Tea Habitat
- Early 1970s Qī Zǐ Xiǎo Huáng Yìn (七子小黄印), Hou De Asian Art
- 70s Thick-papered Měnghǎi (勐海) #7542 (sheng pu'er), Hou De Asian Art
The spread...
The spring yiwu was thick and impressive. The Dong Ding was hearty and chocolatey (well priced, too). The Rou Gui had strong qi and fruity oxidation. The Song Zhong I really liked, even though Imen, proprietress of Tea Habitat, said it usually comes out better; it was dankly floral like too many roses, and when we drank it, we all shut up.
Yay tea! (Photo: Will)
We saved the oldest for last and switched to two 1970s pu'er. By the second tea, it was already dark, and I had to wear a headlamp to brew the tea. That's dedication! Somehow, someone (not me) had planned for this.
Tea dork (Photo: Imen)
The two 70s pu'ers pushed us into tea drunkenness, and the last one still had some strength left when we had to leave for dinner, so we brought the wet leaves with us and had the restaurant brew them for us.
We ate at a Sichuan restaurant so authentic the front door could have been a portal to China. Fresh Sichuan peppercorn numbed us, pickled peppers burned us, and many napkins later we left with full bellies and ready for some dessert. We slurped black rice and fruit concoctions at a Hong Kong style dessert place known for serving frog fallopian tubes and birds nest mixed into their treats.
