#isinglass
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PLATE 30.
Isinglass.
The property of Col. H. McCalmont. By Isonomy out of Deadlock, by Wenlock. Winner of the Two Thousand Guineas, Derby, St. Leger and Newmarket Stakes, 1893; Eclipse Stakes, Princess of Wales’ Stakes and Ascot Cup, 1895.
By permission of “Country Life”.
Sir Humphrey de Trafford, 1907, The Horses of the British Empire, Vol. 1.
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Isinglass Market Share, Growth by Top Company, Region, Applications, Drivers, Trends & Forecast to 2028
The research reports provide deep insights into the global market revenue, market trends, macro-economic indicators, and governing factors, along with market attractiveness per market segment. The report provides an overview of the growth rate of Isinglass market during the forecast period, i.e., 2022–2030. The report, most importantly, identifies the qualitative impact of various market factors on market segments and geographies. The research segments the market on the basis of product type, application type, technology type, and region. To offer more clarity regarding the industry, the report takes a closer look at the current status of various factors, including but not limited to supply chain management, distribution Trade, channels, supply and demand, and production capability differ across countries.
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Isinglass Market Company Profiles Analysis:
Angel Brand
Eaton
ESSECO srl
Kerry Ingredients and Flavors
LALLEMAND Inc. (AB Vickers Ltd.)
Murphy & Son Limited
The Beerblefish Brewing Company Ltd.
The Boudicca Brewing Company
Angel Brand
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Market Segmentation:
Isinglass Market Size, Share & Trends Analysis Report By Form (Liquid, Paste, Powder); Application (Beverages, Confectionery Products, Dessert Products, Others); End User (Brewery Industry, Food Processing Industry) Global Industry Insights, Trends, and Forecast, 2021-2028.
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Regional Framework
The report provides a detailed overview of the industry including both qualitative and quantitative information. It provides an overview and forecast of the global Isinglass Market based on various segments. It also provides market size and forecast estimates from the year 2022 to 2028 with respect to five major regions. The Isinglass Market by each region is later sub-segmented by respective countries and segments. The report covers the analysis and forecast of 18 countries globally along with the current trend and opportunities prevailing in the region.
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North America
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[adventure game protagonist voice] isinglass.. a special fish glue can be made from this
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death is stronger than all proud men
Seren Isinglass and the thread of life.
cw blood
Progress shots, description of character and more talk about the art/design decisions that went into this piece here.
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For @silver-grasp Celebrimbor through two ages with kittens with some slightly heavy discussions (warning for discussed animal death and rather utilitarian preindustrial elven ethics)
He finds his cousin amid the goats, on the verge of tears.
Celebrimbor expected the tears, given the… situation. The goats are a bit of a surprise. So is the milk pail at her feet.
“Finellach?” he cringes, as he remembers who else called her that name.
“Oh, cousin. I didn’t expect you here.” She sniffles. “I don’t suppose you know how to milk a goat?”
It’s not something that has come up before in Celebrimbor’s education, no. But he’s willing to give it his game best.
It turns out his best isn’t good enough. The goat kicks and Finduilas criticizes.
“No, Uncle Finrod said you have to pull down—“ the tears are starting up again. He’s beginning to sense the shape of their predicament, well, this sub-predicament. The main one is obvious.
“I’ll hold it and you milk?” he offers.
The goat is uncooperative (this cannot be an ideal experience for it) and neither of them have much experience. After much sweat and some more tears, they get a decent pail of milk. Retreating from the goats, Celebrimbor finally dares ask:
“Why?”
Finduilas’ lip wobbles imperceptibly. Then, like a princess, she finds her center. “I need to make milk for the kittens. Uncle Finrod was helping me but…”
“He left very suddenly,” Celebrimbor agrees. If he’s lucky she won’t bring up why he left. The scene in the hall—father and Celegorm accusative, Finrod’s pale rage, Orodreth shaking— still haunts him.
“With no mind to who he was leaving! To who needed him! I barely know how to make the special food they need and without it they’ll starve and he didn’t even stop to say goodbye.” Even in the dim light of the goat caves, set high in Nargothrond’s slopes, her hair gleams. It sets her face aglow, makes her look like Finrod in the depths of grief.
Celebrimbor has been apologizing a lot recently, without really specifying what he’s apologizing for. Even he’s not sure—half the time it feels like no one did anything wrong. But once more can’t hurt. “I’m sorry. I—why are there kittens?”
“One of the mousing cats threw a litter she was too young to keep and I couldn’t find a foster queen. Finrod said I could rear them, they’d just need to be fed every two hours.” That explains her conspicuous absence from court these past few weeks. She gives him a despairing look. “I don’t suppose you know anything about kittens?”
“No. I can’t ask the hunt either, they frown on nursing newborns—something about the way of the wild. Father used to rear up some of his puppies and Celegorm mocked him dearly for it. I’d ask him, however…”
“They have so much to do these days,” Finduilas says venomously, swinging the milk pail so sharply Celebrimbor worries for its precious won contents. “Such speeches to make.”
“I can help you though,” he offers, before her mood turns further. “What else do we need to do?”
After ten days spent tiptoeing around everyone, for fear they’d look at him and see a their own fears or desires, his cousin’s easy company is a balm. She looks at him with relief, but no expectations.
“We need eggs, a smidge of olive oil, and jellied fish from the stores. Only the jelly goes in so I hope you’re ready for fish.”
On the way down to the dimmer depths where the hens pick for bugs, he learns how old the kittens are (fourteen days and wobbly), how many there are (five so the milk is going fast), and their coloration (two grey and three tabby).
Three eggs in hand, they nip by the storage rooms and find them in disarray. The political shifts in Nargothrond make it easy to steal a whole set of clear isinglass jelly intended for feasts.
“I have some leftover milk in an icebox,” Finduilas frets, “But there’s one last ingredient. I’m not sure how to get it.”
“Do tell.”
“Uncle—Finrod had a little blue crystal glass of water from Valinor. He’d put a drop in each batch. I’m not sure where the glass is now, or how to get to it.”
Celebrimbor considers, then considers again. He will not be called overhasty to speak. “It must be in his rooms,” he says. “And I can get to those. Leave it to me.”
Hands full, she leans forward and pecks his cheek. It feels warm, comforting. He remembers childish kisses from Idril when they were small, in the thin peace before all scattered to their own kingdoms. He worried that being of such a sparse generation he’d outgrown the friendship of cousins.
Were she not engaged he might love her for it. As it is, he only pines a little.
Slipping into Finrod’s old rooms is easy. His father’s man is at the door and his uncle’s voice is loudly declaiming, making some passionate argument about love. He ghosts in almost unnoticed (except by Huan, lying at the fire) and begins to rifle through the cabinet of treasures furthest from the wall. He thinks he remembers a blue faceted blue glass from previous, carefully chaperoned visits to Uncle Finrod’s treasure trove.
Just as his hand closes over it, Celegorm starts to reach his point.
“The princess doesn’t know what she wants,” he says, and Celebrimbor freezes.
From the deep, kingly chair near the desk, Father scoffs. “Doriath will not agree with you.”
Finduilas is kin to King Thingol, however distantly. If he runs now, it will look suspicious. But quicker is better, away from Father’s men, to Gwindor or one of the other young sprouts she holds sway with. Someone who can spirit her out—away.
Perhaps it’s not so bad. They might have her best interests at heart. She is family, after all.
“She is green—“ Celegorm wheedles, while Celebrimbor compares escape routes, contemplates throwing himself at his father’s feet.
Curufin scoffs. “Princess Lúthien is older than you are—older than Maitimo—and her mother’s people are older than any who walk this world. I do not think we will get far on that claim.”
Every muscle in Celebrimbor’s body relaxes a fraction. Tucking the blue glass into his palm, he begins to sidle out, only to be stopped by a sharp bark from Huan.
Celegorm folds his arms. “Where do you think you’re going, young man?”
Father murmurs a general agreement. He seems distracted by the vellum in front of him, the fine ink waiting to be used.
“The kitchen wanted one of the rare tonics Finrod kept in his own personal store, for a particular medicinal broth.” He’s shocked how quickly the lies come to his own tongue.
Curufin still doesn’t lift his eyes from the blank, waiting paper. “Hmm. And you’ll make sure it’s returned when they’re done?”
“Of course, father.”
This earns him a flick of eye contact, a brief smile. “That’s a good boy. Now go, we have business to do.”
He’s not a boy, he’s a lord grown. Finduilas is a third his age and ready to be married. But at times like these he’s happy to be left out of the business his elders get up to.
He flees, clutching the precious bottle tight to his chest. Down the stairs, through the halls, to Finduilas’ well appointed little suite. A set of rooms fit for a princess, with a hidden window out onto the river and a fresco of the Awakening at Lake Cuiviénen.
In a middle hallway, hanging like a late morning fog, he finds Orodreth. His listlessness seemsto sharpen for a moment. “Curufinwion. Your quarters are not this direction.”
Very little is this direction, except sleeping rooms and the odd garden. Besides, he cannot bring himself to lie to Orodreth, who looks so hammered thin, like gold foil where once he was solid gold. “I’m helping Finduilas with the kittens,” he says, bracing for rage. Instead he just gets a queer smile.
“You’re a sweet boy, Curufinwion— I worry it will only hurt you.” Orodreth pauses, as if he has something else to say, then simply adds, “On you go.”
He rushes on.
“It’s unlocked!” Finduilas calls when he knocks. He finds her sitting in a corner where the tiled flooring is very close to the heating strung between Nargothrond’s layers. A cave system within a cave system of elaborate pipes, tubes, and interstitial spaces, pumper variously full of hot water or hot air. Because of the slight unevenness to their natural floors, some spots can get hotter than others. It’s better to wear shoes when walking, even on clear ground.
On the edge of the hot spot, is a fleece lined box full of squirming kittens. A few more adventurous ones are trying to climb out of their container, but wobbly as they are they quickly topple. The rest are content to nap or complain. In the middle, Finduilas is slowly hearing the last of Finrod’s final batch of kitten food, while in her lap she prepares the new, makeshift formula.
He watches her hum the moisture out of the milk, slightly transfixed by the effortless songweaving. He knows how to throw power into an act or an object, how to coerce steel to crystallize coherently or coax a gem into being. Those are wordless incantations. The greatest power of all is in the voice. Did the people not name themselves Quendi—the speakers?
Celebrimbor has always been slow to speak, hesitant to sing. Someday, he’s sure he’ll find his voice but until then can only watch the simplest of knowings in awe.
When she finishes, the milk is thicker, soupy.
“Separate out the eggs,” she directs. “We only need the yolk.”
He juggles the egg between shells, pulling out the yolk. At a loss for what to do with the whites, he swallows them down, the way he’s seen Celegorm do before, and relishesFinduilas’ disgusted giggle. It’s worth the slimy sensation as they go down his throat.
On they go, mixing new milk as the old slowly heats. After Celebrimbor adds the final touch, a drop of Valinorean clarity, Finduilas declares it ready for a switch.
“If we both nurse a kitten at once it’ll go faster,” she says. Patiently, she demonstrates how she feeds them, a tiny spoon with a tube down the handle, a rag tip dipped in the goo.
The little tabby feels even smaller in his lap. It’s barely palmsized, shaky on its legs, with two tiny teeth beginning to poke out of its pink gums.
“Every two hours,” he marvels.
Finduilas nods. “It’s what they need.”
“Isn’t this going a bit far? They can’t survive on their own and you’re marshalling all the resources of a kingdom to help them. In nature they’d be dead.” It feels cruel to say with the kitten sucking at his fingertip, but it’s true. It’s forbidden to kill a mother bear in her den but when a nursing dam is killed by accident, Celegorm always marshals his riders to hunt down the cubs. Better an arrow than starvation, he’d say.
“Well, we’re not nature, are we?” Finduilas can’t gesture much with her hands full of kitten but the way she’s using her eyebrows suggests she wants to. “Look at us, in our city with our fine clothes—“
“Well, we made that—“
“Insulating ourselves from nature. Setting ourselves above it, denying the Valar who made it, marking ourselves the masters of it. A master must do charity, in my opinion.” She argues like a politician, like Celegorm, like Finrod.
“They’re cats,” Celebrimbor protests weakly.
“City cats, dependent on us. Grown fat on the pests of our store rooms. They protect us so we must protect them.” Distracted by debate, she’s let up the rhythm of feeding. The kitten screams in protest. “Yes, yes. Spoiled little orcling!”
“They’re lovely kittens,” Celebrimbor says, “I’m just not sure of the economics of it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, I won’t go rescuing every orphaned badger in the woods. It’d be too much for me to handle. But once in a while I like to be uselessly kind.”
Too sweet for your own good, Celebrimbor thinks, remembering Orodreth’s pronouncement. Ah, well, at least they’re doomed together.
Celebrían finds him in his study, feeding the runt of the litter. At just five days old,it demands food nearly constantly. Celebrimbor has set up its box with a hot water bottle desk side and settled in for a few weeks of paperwork. Luckily Narvi isn’t here to see how the great craftsmen of the Eldar are defeated by a baby the weight of a plum.
As he nurses the mewling, legs splayed newborn, he hums a little song for strengthening. It may not be enough to overcome what the little one has stacked against it, a low birth weight, maternal rejection, poor digestion. But it can’t hurt.
Celebrían bursts in without so much as a warning. “‘Lo, Uncle— what is that?”
“A kitten, I thought you knew enough to realize that.”
She scowls at him. “But why is it here?”
“I’m feeding it. Its mother wouldn’t and someone has to step in.”
“It’s sick, Uncle,” she explains, as if to a child. “It can’t survive.”
“It can if somebody helps it.”
The idea seems to baffle her.
“They’re cats, they only live a dozen years. You’re not saving it for long.”
There’s an unspoken reason that elves tend to favor pedigrees rather than pets. You stop getting attached the same way after six or seven generations. Some of his friends have had excellent luck with great turtles, or talking birds from Valinor via Westernesse, but Celebrimbor has always had a simple heart.
“I’m sure that dozen years will be very fulfilling.”
“You’re not even sure you can save it,” she accuses, more confounded than angry.
He could give her a long speech, a great oration. With teenagers sometimes simple is better. “No, but I’d like to try.”
“It must be hard.”
“Very much so,” he dips his syringe back in the warm milk and takes another pull. The formula, made how Finduilas taught him so many years ago (with a few exclusions, Valinorean water is impossible to find these days), is soupy and requires extra pressure “I’m getting less sleep than usual and you know that’s a feat.”
Celebrían creeps closer, curious despite her youthful pessimism. “I don’t understand.”
The kitten’s belly is starting to distend, it licks its jaws between sips more often now. Soon it will be drifting off to sleep, ready to return to its warm paradise in the box. He’s lined it with soft blankets and added some walnut-shell weighted bags that hold heat well.
“A cousin of ours taught me that we must practice what separates us from beasts and monsters. Even if it sometimes means being tender hearted .” Truth be told, he doesn’t even notice the softness these days. It means he’s well in practice.
It’s an exercise in hubris as well as altruism. How bold to think he can single-handedly save a creature so fragile! Bones like splinters, skin like tissue, he’s handling a creation more delicate than any gem. But he’s done it before, under far less ideal conditions. There was an orphaned bird when Elrond was a youth, amid the shaking husk of Beleriand. A baby bat when he dwelt among the dwarves, he’d had to be careful with that one for fear of the beast-madness dwarven lore warned about. And there are always surplus kittens in the world.
You should not try to save the world if you cannot save a single corner of it.
Like she’s peeking at a dead body, Celebrían peers over his arm at the kitten. “It’s so little,” she marvels, not dismissive now, but fond.
“Would you like to hold it?” he offers, and can’t resist teasing. “It’s about time for it to defecate.”
Her mother’s daughter, Celebrían doesn’t even blink. “Can I?”
As he settles her with the round, happy kitten and a warm cloth, he wonders if she too will someday look back on this as a youth lost. The world is full of tragedies, a whirlwind of lost cities, lost cousins, and lost kittens. Here they sit, cupped hands full of yawning baby, holding back a storm
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True, from the unmarred dead body of the whale, you may scrape off with your hand an infinitely thin, transparent substance, somewhat resembling the thinnest shreds of isinglass, only it is almost as flexible and soft as satin; that is, previous to being dried, when it not only contracts and thickens, but becomes rather hard and brittle. I have several such dried bits, which I use for marks in my whale-books. It is transparent, as I said before; and being laid upon the printed page, I have sometimes pleased myself with fancying it exerted a magnifying influence. At any rate, it is pleasant to read about whales through their own spectacles, as you may say. - Moby Dick
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hey thanks for posting that about vegan wines lol. it made me go "sorry not all wines are vegan??????" and look things up and now i know more!! also im vegetarian so very nice to know that i need to check that. hope you are having a great night/day wherever you are! :)
thank you! i’m having a very lovely night ❤️
a lot of wineries don’t make their use of fining agents easily available information so it’s definitely been a lot of research on my end but barnivore.com has been such a good resource. i specifically can’t have wines that use egg whites or isinglass
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text under the cut
Blurring Together
cro cumaisc etir casbairdni ocus lethrannaigecht poem
Air resembles mustard gas
It’s all a haze
Through a pane of isinglass
Watching passing days.
#writing#creative writing#poem#poetry#original poem#poems on tumblr#poetryblr#writblr#irish poetry#cro cumaisc etir casbairdni ocus lethrannaigecht#poetry forms#poetry for the soul#women writers
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Tagged by @counterwiddershins and @acrossthewavesoftime, thank you both!
favorite color: It's Always Purple
song stuck in my head: The Shannon and the Chesapeake
last song I listened to: The Constitution and the Guerriere
three favorite foods: clam cakes, pea soup, pickles trying and failing to sound less like a sailor from 1805
Last thing I googled: Port Mahon
Dream trip: I have already described the War of 1812 Dream Vacation (which is focused on historic sites in the Niagara region near the US/Canada border); another dream trip is Portsmouth Historic Dockyard! The National Museum of the Royal Navy, HMS Warrior, The Mary Rose Museum, and of course HMS Victory! I can only imagine that I would start crying in joy.
tagging @suffrajetpack, @mooseofthesea, @readingthefranklins, @sucre-sanguine, @hartshorn-and-isinglass, @annebrontesrequiem, @my-deer-friend if you would like to do this, no pressure.
#it's a constant war of 1812 rap battle in my head apparently#i did this same tag game not long ago#and i have a bad feeling i chose the same songs
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Tag ten people you want to know better
Thank you for tagging me, dear @cparti-mkiki!
Favourite colour: since spring is currently really taking off in these parts, I am once again reminded of why I love green in all its bright, rich shades so much. Certain reds and blues (like the sea!) are also fond favourites.
Song stuck in my head: Whaur Will We Gang by the Battlefield Band, alternatively the excellent baroque-ified cover version of Queen's Don't Stop Me Now by counter tenor Alois Mühlbacher that has haunted me for the past week.
Last song I listened: there's a very odd playlist currently running (which I curated, let's not pretend), and it just switched from Detectorists by Johnny Flynn to Cheerio from the musical Dearest Enemy.
Three favourite foods: Lasagne, badische Spätzle, and, a more recent discovery, empanadas.
Last thing I googled: "Vatermörderkragen englisch"
Dream trip: Several, but I'd really love to return to Ireland sometime, I have not been back to my old home for a while now.
I am tagging (as always, no pressure if you don't want to!) @redladydeath, @werewolfetone, @hartshorn-and-isinglass, @professorlehnsherr-almashy, @sanguinarysanguinity, @clove-pinks and whoever would like to participate!
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tagged by @clove-pinks—thanks for the tag my friend!!
Favorite color: call me boring but I love brown. Brown is such a versatile and pleasing color.
Last song: I'm gonna say Cold Bread by Johnny Flynn counts since I happened to be playing it with some friends earlier as opposed to listening to it. It's also my go-to Driving To Reenactments Song.
Last movie: I think it was the Disney Elemental movie, which was not as bad as I thought it would have been
Currently watching: wish it could be OFMD season 2 but unfortunately I have so much going on that I am not watching anything at the moment.
Other stuff I watched this year: Good Omens 2, Midnight Mass, Les Mis, A Portrait of a Lady On Fire, Chevalier, Harriet, the latter four films I watched on various planes this summer
Shows I dropped this year/didn’t finish: Black Sails—once again, I wish I could be watching it but I simply Do Not have the time
Currently reading: I’m on my fourth annual reread of The Secret History but that’s only if you can say I’ve actually been reading it… otherwise it’s mostly Puritan literature and Jacob Burckhardt
Currently listening to: Händel's Ode for St. Cecilia's Day. Just wrote four pages on it because it's that glorious
Currently working on: revising the first three movements of a brass quintet and very slowly putting together a fourth in time for December
Current obsession: hate to embarrass myself more by bringing it up again but it's still Ian Bostridge's performance of Erlkönig. He can seize me in the forest anytime.
tagging @some-cold-and-some-violence @hartshorn-and-isinglass @napoleonsloveletter @permanenthistorydamage @tricornonthecob @pathfinderswiftpen @werewiire @swingindoorsusan and anyone else who wishes to participate. no pressure either way :)
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Isinglass Market Analysis by Size, Share, Growth, Trends up to 2028
The Isinglass market report provides information and statistics on market shares, size, restraining factors, and driving factors for the forecast period 2021 to 2028. It also mentions the role of main market players in the manufacturing and construction industry. The report on Isinglass market evaluates the value of the market report, keeping in mind the application and regional segments, market share, and size while forecasting the market for each product type and application of the Isinglass market in different segments of the report. The research report also mentions some sections of the Isinglass market including opportunities, growth, trend, size, demand, and technology used by prominent players of the market. Then, it gives detailed profiles of the key players as a part of the competitive landscape of the Isinglass market.
Get Sample Copy @ https://iconmarketresearch.com/inquiry/sample/IMR1538
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The main aim of the Isinglass report is to give the map of the growth for the Isinglass market that will help in providing the clients with the required information for the formulation strategies to meet their respective business goals. The report also provides deep knowledge of the Isinglass for the previous year as well as for the forecast years and what the CAGR level of the market is going to be. This report is a synopsis of what the market conditions are going to be while also giving information regarding the market’s definition, classifications, applications, and engagements are. This report also aims to analyze the Isinglass market’s developments including the market improvement, market position, and others which are usually done by the prominent players and brands of the manufacturing and construction industry. This report also consists of all the market drivers and restraints which are obtained through SWOT analysis. The report also has the CAGR values of the Isinglass market for the base years 2021, the historic year 2020, and forecast years 2021-2028.
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Cherry Lass.
The property of Mr. W. Hall Walker. By Isinglass out of Black Cherry, by Bendigo.
Winner of the One Thousand Guineas and Oaks, 1905.
W. A. Rouch.
Sir Humphrey de Trafford, 1907, The Horses of the British Empire, Vol. 1.
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Tagged by @emilybeemartin (incredible author, artist, and fellow Sharpe enjoyer)
Last song: Mama Werewolf by Brandi Carlisle
Currently watching: Drawfee stream VODs on YouTube (I'm too old for Twitch, y'all)
Currently reading: Mortal Follies by Alexis Hall; sapphic Regency romance with magic, fairies, and old gods. I just started it, but the love interest is a dark and handsome woman snidely referred to as "the Duke of Annadale". 🔥
Current obsession: Fitting the trousers for my NYCC Sharpe cosplay. Pray for me.
Tagging: @queensabriel @closetcellist @lunaofthemiste @agarbagebagofhumanteeth @pidgeon-wilson @urban-sith @lluvia-otsana @logicbutton @some-cold-and-some-violence @hartshorn-and-isinglass and anyone else who'd like to ✨
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