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#upper midwest gothic – @highways-are-liminal-spaces on Tumblr
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@highways-are-liminal-spaces / highways-are-liminal-spaces.tumblr.com

~the space between the end of the road and the edge of the sky~
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pitchburgh
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zoologica42

Temperate Lake Dashboard Simulator

🐦‍⬛2xcrested_cormorant Follow Going to try and eat this weird fish

♻️🐦‍⬛2xcrested_cormorant Follow wilmdlife hopital

🐸rana-bufo Follow No one can ever truly understand what BULL4rog's music means to me 😭 this song in particular argrgrgrgrgrg the way he puffs out his vocal sack asdfghjk

BULL4rog: listen here on spotify ♻️🐸rana-bufo Follow I think I huave chytrid

🐟ilikeeatingminnowsFollow I just migrated here from finstagram please be nice

🐠powerbottomfeeder Follow

I have HAD IT with this lake, it’s the third day in a row we’ve had nitrates above 8 ppm and uug the algae, my allergies I can’t do this

♻️🐟carpy-diem Follow

Lol we regularly get nitrates up to 20 ppm in my lake ♻️🦞crawdaddy Follow uhhh you shouldn't be bragging about that, it's really unsafe ♻️🐟carpy-diem Follow suck it you little oligotrophic bitch

🐢snappturt Follow Dear Tumblr, am I the Basshole for the way I catch minnows? I was chatting with some of the guys I bask with and they said the way I catch minnows is problematic; What I do is I sit on the bottom of the lake, I hide myself in the mud and I open my mouth. My tongue looks a lot like a little worm so I wiggle it around- and because of that, minnows swim over and check it out. Once they get close enough, then I bite down and eat them. Some of my rockmates have told me that this is manipulative and toxic behavior- but they also eat minnows...I don't know guys...

🦆tree hole-nester-acorn-eater Follow

is it just me, or is this super homoerotic???

🐟bigpikexxl Follow liveblogging diving down to the bottom

♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow dark

♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow big log

♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow rock

♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow kinda cold

♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow oh hi @deepwatersculpin!!!

♻️🐠deepwatersculpin Follow oh hey @bigpikexxl!!!

never thought i'd seen one of my mutuals irl!!! I didn't even know we lived in the same lake!!!

🐠Shadlad Follow I'm not sorry, and I'm not afraid to say it, if you're an introduced species, go dry yourself out. You're not welcome to eat up all of our resources and live in my ancestral longs and rock crags. These things are for us to relate to and not for you to squander.

♻️🦞crevice-steve Follow

Can't believe this type of fishcourse is still popular on this site, introduced species didn't choose to be introduced and have as much of a right to live as anyone else. Bigotry against introduced species is still bigotry and that's a hill I will dry on. ♻️🐠Shadlad Follow Go ahead, dry yourself out then ;) ♻️🪷nootnootnewt Follow Hey man, I hate invasive species as much as anyone else but please stop telling people to beach themselves for political reasons- yeah that includes inavsives too ♻️🦐typical_scud Follow Did you legit just use the word Invas*ve to describe introduced species? ♻️🦢flatfootswimmer Follow anyone in this thread eat pondweed?

♻️🐟largemouthbASS Follow A colab with my mutual @2xcrested_cormorant after they got released from the wildlife hospital. They haven't been on much since the Fish and Wildlife Service released them in the wrong lake and it took them a while to get back to their colony. We hope this guide will help you avoid accidentally eating/engaging with bait!

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ofishal-fish-posts

official fish post

#fish#lakes#upper midwest gothic
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A recipe for apple pie

  1.  You’ll know when it’s time. The morning air will have that first sting of winter in it, and the faint scent of iron on the wind. The leaves will crackle differently underfoot. 
  2.  Begin with the dough. Sift together flour, salt, sugar, and ground cardamom in a large bowl. Add the vanilla bean paste and mix to combine.
  3.  Cut butter into chunks, and add to the flour mixture. Toss lightly to coat. Working quickly, using your fingers, cut the butter into the flour mixture until there are only pea-sized chunks left. You want a few lumps of butter remaining to keep the pastry nice and tender.
  4.  Notice the silence. Absorb the silence. Consider putting on the game in the background, just to break the silence, but your hands are tacky from the flour and the butter, and it doesn’t seem worth crossing the room.
  5.  Combine ice, water and cider vinegar in a bowl. Sprinkle a few tablespoons of the ice water into the flour and butter mixture, and using your hands, mix in well. Always use your hands—the recipe doesn’t call for it, but there’s something about pressing the dough against your skin that feels sacred.
  6.  Continue adding water a tablespoon at a time, slowly, until you have a dough that holds together well but is not too wet.
  7.  Squeeze together with your fingertips to make a homogenous dough. Divide the dough into two - one third for the top, and the remaining two thirds for the bottom. Shape the smaller portion into a disc and the larger into a rectangle. Place the two pieces into the fridge, and leave for at least two hours.
  8.  Notice the silence again. Switch on the TV, and keep the volume low in the background. Make yourself a cup of hot tea and try to read a few chapters of an old favorite book. Pull down the blinds, careful not to peer into the yard as you do so. Wait.
  9.  Once two hours have passed, open the fridge. Appreciate the familiar hum it makes as you take out the dough.
  10.  Dust your counter in flour. Your grandfather taught you this trick to see the footprints of all the little fairies that would sneak into the kitchen pantry at night, and your mother scolded you when she came downstairs the next morning to a kitchen floor covered in flour, but she didn’t deny that the footprints were there. “Mice,” she told you, but you remember that the small prints looked distinctly human.
  11.  Roll the larger disc of dough into a circle slightly larger than your pie dish, ⅛ inch thick. Line a 9" pie dish, leaving the extra dough overhanging. Trim the dough so there is about 1 inch overlapping the edge of your dish.
  12.  Without looking outside, open the window above the sink and toss the extra dough onto the front porch. Ignore the sound of hooves against the wood.
  13.  Roll out the smaller piece of dough into a rough rectangle, ⅛ inch thick, and use your grandmother’s knife—the one you keep mounted on the wall, that is so dulled with age and still so sharp—to cut it into thin strips. Braid the pastry like your mother used to, like her mother used to, like her mother used to because the thing in the woods had shown her to do it like that, the night her son hadn’t come home, and he was back on the front porch come morning.
  14.  Place the braids onto a parchment paper lined baking sheet and store in the fridge until ready to use. Reroll any scraps and add them to the web of braidwork.
  15.  Peel the apples, careful to remove the skin in a single spiral, and slice finely. In a large bowl, toss together the apple and lemon juice. Leave to sit for 5 minutes, then drain any excess liquid.
  16.  Close your eyes, this time, as you toss the apple skins out the window. There are more hoofbeats now, and the urge to peek is nearly overwhelming. Replace the knife on the wall, and draw the curtains tight.
  17.  Combine the flour, sugar, cardamom, cinnamon, and salt in a small bowl, then gently sprinkle into the apples along with the vanilla bean. Toss well to combine. Transfer the filling to the lined pie dish, packing the slices of apple in tightly, and mounding in the middle. Begin to hum, if the snarling from the porch is too much for you. Put on some music. Turn up the game.
  18.  Arrange the braid across the top of the pie, like your mother taught you. The thing in the woods had had no hands, her grandmother had said, but it was so delicate with the symbol. Don’t listen to the howling outside. Don’t let your hands shake.
  19.  Rest the pie in the fridge for at least 30 minutes, while you preheat the oven to 425˚F.
  20.  Take the egg out of the fridge—the strange one that you found on the porch last Thursday, the one with the golden sheen and the dark flecks that look almost like writing from certain angles. Crack it into a small bowl, and whisk in 1 tbsp milk to create an egg wash.
  21.  The howling will come to a crescendo, and will begin to sound almost musical. Haunting, and enticing. Turn up the game. Turn up the music. Sing along if you have to. Don’t look outside.
  22.  When the oven chimes, stand up and cross the room. Place a baking tray on the bottom rack of the oven. It is important that you do not check the time as you do so.
  23.  Brush the braiding with egg wash and sprinkle liberally with raw sugar. Bake at 425˚F for 20 minutes, as counted by your grandmother’s old egg timer sitting on the counter. The clock on the oven will be blinking 88:88 and your phone will have died in your pocket, no matter when you last remembered to charge it. Do not look at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Do not look outside.
  24.  After 20 minutes, reduce the temperature 375˚F, and bake until the pastry is deeply golden and the filling is bubbling. When the pie is done, you can check the time. It will be later than you expect, and earlier too.
  25.  Remove the pie from the oven and cool on top of the stove. Cut the pie into twelfths, clockwise, following the spiral of the braid. Plate the first slice to leave out on the front porch, before serving.

Original pie recipe: x 

#long post#my writing#upper midwest gothic#food mention
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