Pot Holes

Hello and welcome to yet another week of fruitless fictions and lethargic lies here at Factually Deficient! This week, I will answer a question posed by my absolutely nonfictional mother, who asked:

What are potholes?

Potholes are a common phenomenon, the explanation to which is stunningly simple. Too often have we all seen potholes and wondered at how they came about, without realizing the obvious reasons for them.

My readers will perhaps be familiar with the edible treat known as doughnut holes. These are knot-shaped pieces of dough taken from the now-hollow centre of a ring or filled doughnut. Pot holes are much the same thing.

Those of you who have experience with cooking will no doubt have made use in the past of pots and pans. The pots, for those less familiar with cooking, are essentially metal bowls, affixed with handles, hollow for the most part in the middle so that the foods to be cooked can be placed inside.

Metal is of course naturally neither concave nor hollow. Rather, cylindrical lumps of metal are affixed with handles, and then the pot holes are separately mined and placed inside the lumps of metal, in order to complete the construction of the pot.

Pot holes found in nature are the product of one of two occurrences: either they are freshly-grown pot holes, ready to be mined and added to pots, or they are expired pot holes, that have fallen out of their pots (which will now be in need of a replacement pot hole).


Disclaimer: the above post contains erroneous information. Do not attempt to mine a pothole.


Lies About Books: Of the Divine

It is absolutely still August, but while that lasts, it’s time for another round of Lies About Books, in which I provide absolutely insupportable falsehoods about a genuine book that I actually enjoyed this month! And in August, which is the month that it currently still is, I had the immense pleasure of reading Amelia Atwater-Rhodes’ latest novel, Of the Divine.

Of the Divine chronicles the journey of Naples, a gourmet chef named for the town in which he has lived all his life. Naples has always known that he was born to bake great things. But when exotic travellers visit Naples – the city and the man – with stories and legends of delicacies that are truly divine, he is no longer satisfied with cooking truly excellent creme brulees and cherries jubilee.

No, Naples decides that he cannot rest until he can prepare the very food of the gods. He sets out on a journey to find the mystic and possibly dangerous ingredients to produce genuine ambrosia. But what he finds may rock the foundations of the entire cooking world… Are he and his fellow chefs ready for these revelations?

Of the Divine is a captivating story of cookery, herblore, and the human condition. Heartwarming to the very end, and jam-packed with recipes that will make your mouth water, this book is a true gem. I would recommend it to any fans of desserts, cataclysmic changes, and/or poor life decisions.

Lies About Books: Looking For Alaska

As April’s flowers prepare to give way to May’s showers, it is time once again to dishonestly review a book I have recently enjoyed. This month, I read Looking for Alaska, John Green’s debut novel.

Looking for Alaska focuses on Miles, an aspiring chef. Nicknamed “Pudge” for his propensity to taste his creations, Miles has only one problem, one roadblock on his path to culinary stardom: his inability to ever follow a recipe the way it is written.

He always means to follow the laid-out steps and instructions. But invariably, something goes wrong. He runs out of an ingredient, or he misses a step, or something gets accidentally knocked into the pot. He sets out to make cupcakes and ends up with souffles, to make salads and ends up with gazpacho soup. On one memorable occasion, he served a prizewinning steak that had been intended as a slice buttered toast.

And now, despite his failings – or perhaps because of them – Miles is embarking on his most ambitious project yet: to create the perfect baked Alaska. Miles pores through enough recipe books to constitute a serious fire hazard, slowly analysing the recipes, making a sorbet here, a fried ice cream there.

Will his grand experiment yield delicious results? Or will it all end in tears and fallen centres?

Sweet (pun intended), sad, and funny, Looking for Alaska is a coming of age story like no other. Good for the kitchen and for simply relaxing with a book, I recommend it to any fans of novels that include recipes, characters who read a lot, and famous last words.