Why not?
via InspireMeNow
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It’s hard to make it out from this pic, but that’s a tiny bee punctuating this charming logo. And that’s really how small those miraculous little guys really are.
Why it works: the story is that they’ve put their name on this honey. They own it.
Equally charming, the packaging:
via Behance, but where’s the designer credit?
Sea anemone, its name is poetry.
Sea-life at the bottom of the food chain, from a new book, Ocean Drifters, by Richard R. Kirby, Firefly Books.
via WSJPhotoJournal.
When a thing is not the thing it says it is.
Like cheese on toast, which is what it is.
Like how it used to be called Welsh Rarebit. Here’s The Old Foodie on rabbit vs rarebit:
The OED traces Welsh Rabbit to 1725, sixty years before “rarebit”, and the eminent lexicographer H.W.Fowler stated in no uncertain terms “Welsh Rabbit is amusing and right. Welsh Rarebit is stupid and wrong.” End of discussion.
Why the identity works:
It’s all about the cheese. The point of the dish is to have a vehicle for cheese. The Welsh love their cheese. [Who doesn't?]
And also whimsey. Rabbits do whimsey well.
Identity design by CandyCoatedUniverse
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Shopping list fridge magnets via, unsurprisingly, Plenty Of Colour [and the very helplful] ffffound.
On the last Wednesday of August, the Spanish town of Buñol gets crazy. They hold the Tomatina, part of a festival that includes a competition to knock a ham off the top of a greased pole.
Once that’s done, a siren goes off, and a designated street gets flooded with [literally] tons of overripe tomatoes grown specifically for the occasion. And into the fray falls a huge crowd of youthful frolickers who revel in the stuff.
They get an hour’s fun, and then another siren goes off, stopping the madness and signally a cleanup crew that hoses down the site, which is then considered disinfected thanks to the tomatoes’ acidity.
Here‘s how the whole mess got started. And Videos here.
These are the people who keep alive the similarly crazy running of the bulls, so the Tomatina might make sense on that front.
Still, the old-world Italian sense of reverence for food instilled in me since childhood sees this as an astonishing waste of food.
And one more thing: you guys are nuts.
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A scene seen anywhere, but actually here in beloved Toronto @ the Ex. No summer childhood memory is without cotton candy twirled up there. And, no, it’s not food, and less likely to be given to kids these days. A sign of the times. Great shot by Sarah Madeline via FuckYeahToronto
