Gut Strings Absinthe Belt Buckles Lever Locks
The instruments in the violin family have a distinct sound created in large part by the type of strings they have. While there are strings made of synthetic materials or metals on the market, traditional strings are made of a specific part of a certain animal. Stay tuned for the details. Playing an instrument in the violin family takes guts-- literally. That's because the instrument's four strings are made of sheep intestines. The two thinner, higher note strings are made of plain gut. The two thicker, lower note strings have a gut core wrapped in silver wire, then silk thread wound around the extremities. The intestines, each roughly 65 feet long, come from local slaughterhouses and arrive already emptied, cleaned, and salted. The first step is to soak them in cold water for one to two days. This starts a controlled, very smelly decomposition which helps loosen up the intestines' components. Next, using a half piece of wood cane, the string maker scrapes off the outer layers of fat and mucosa membranes. Then, five times a day for a week, he softens the gut in an alkaline potash bath and pulls it against a handmade copper thimble. This gently scrapes away the waste remnants until the gut is a tube of pure, transparent muscle, at which point he slices it with a splitting horn into two gut ribbons of differing widths. The thinner, right one for making violin strings, the thicker, left one for making cello and double bass strings. During the scraping phase, guts sometimes break apart. Rather than discard these pieces, the string maker knots them together to produce full-length strands. The string maker's assistants cut the gut ribbons into 23-foot lengths and bleach them for four days. This prevents the gut from turning brown. Then they count out the number of strands required to produce the various size strings-- from six to make the thinnest violin string all the way up to 120 to make the thickest double bass string. They tie the ends in a loop and hook them up to a twisting machine, then turn the machine's crank and tightly twist the gut ribbons together to form one strong, single string. Then, since the guts have begun to dry out a bit, they rehydrate the string to restore a consistent level of moisture. Then they twist it again and transfer it, along with additional strings, to a drying frame. There's no set drying time. They monitor each string individually around the clock. As a string dries, it shrinks in diameter but grows in length, creating slack. So, they repeatedly remove and retwist until it dries completely, at which point it stabilizes. This drying and retwisting process can take up to seven days. The string is ready when it's hard and stiff and slightly yellowed. At that stage, they rub it with horsehair-- the traditional equivalent of coarse sandpaper. It makes the string smooth and even throughout. Next, they fine-polish the string with abrasive, dried grass in a cloth that's been moistened with olive oil. Some string makers use almond oil and pumice or powdered glass as the abrasive. They sever the strings from the drying frame and cut them to standard lengths. These strings will be for a child-size violin, so they're 100 centimeters long. To produce the correct sounds, the instrument's two lower-note strings must be considerably thicker than the others. The problem is this thickness in gut alone would produce a dull sound, so they wrap the string in sterling silver wire-- silver being seven times denser than gut. This gives the string the right sound and a loud, brilliant tone with minimal thickness. Next, for decoration, they wrap the top and bottom of these gut-core strings with silk thread. On a violin string, the silk runs about a centimeter long on each end. On a longer cello string, like this one, about 5 centimeters. The finished string is ready to be inserted into its retail packaging. There are less expensive synthetic strings on the market, however, particularly for early music, many musicians prefer the sound and feel of traditional gut strings-- made by hand today just as they were centuries ago. Absinthe is a strong alcoholic drink with a colorful history. During the late 1800s and early 1900s, drinking this anise-flavored spirit was the rage among european bohemians. Conservatives of the day saw it as dangerous and immoral and succeeded in getting absinthe banned in several countries. The traditional way to drink absinthe is to pour one part into a glass, straddle a specially designed slotted spoon holding a sugar cube over the glass, then, very slowly, drip three to five parts ice water directly onto the cube, dissolving the sugar into the diluting spirit. This transforms the drink from clear to cloudy and draws out the subtle flavors and aromas of the herbal ingredients. You can do this with a single glass or several using a traditional absinthe fountain-- a large mounted glass vessel which dispenses the ice water through multiple spigots. This 180-year-old french distillery makes both white and green versions of absinthe. Each is made from a different combination aromatic plants. However, for both, the primary ingredients are green anise and grand wormwood. Both also contain fennel. The white absinthe has more of it. And only green absinthe contains additional plants, such as petty wormwood, hyssop, mint, and chamomile. The distillery workers pour the recipe ingredients into a copper still. They pump in highly concentrated alcohol made from white grapes. The plants soak in this alcohol base overnight, gradually imbuing the alcohol with their respective flavors and aromas. This process is called maceration. The next day, distillation begins. They heat the still with pressurized steam. After about 45 minutes, the spirit reaches the boiling point, and a floating gauge monitoring its alcohol level slowly rises and flows out the neck of the still. However, what comes out during the first 10 minutes or so has to be discarded. It's white, oily, and has a 90% alcohol level. What follows is the good stuff-- crystal clear, with an average alcohol level of 78% to 80%. This streams steadily out of the still for about three to five hours, followed by a weak tail-end flow that they discard like the first flow. Then they dilute this distilled spirit with water to reduce the final alcohol level of this white absinthe to 60%. To make green absinthe, before that final dilution, they pump the white absinthe through a burlap bag containing a specific plant-- the identity of which the distillery won't divulge. They let the plant soak in the absinthe for a specific length of time. This draws out the plant's chlorophyll, which colors the spirit bright green. Then they dilute with water to obtain the target alcohol level of 62%, slightly higher than white absinthe. That extra bit of alcohol helps preserve the chlorophyll. In the distillery's in-house laboratory, quality-control technicians test a sample from each batch to verify the alcohol content. Absinthe contains about 20% more alcohol than most spirits. The lab monitors the level of thujone, a chemical compound in wormwood, the drink's second key ingredient. Thujone content is regulated to varying degrees in many countries. The european union permits up to 35 parts per million, for example, while canada, no more than 7 parts per million. The distillery, therefore, bottles several versions of absinthe, tailoring the wormwood portion of the recipe to the export destination. White absinthe has a strong anise taste, well balanced with wormwood, whereas green absinthe, containing more plants, has a more complex flavor. While white is typically bottled in clear glass, green is always bottled in dark-colored glass. That's because chlorophyll, the plant pigment that produces the green color, is highly sensitive to light. Without dark glass shielding it from exposure, the green absinthe inside would turn yellow and eventually brown. This would have no effect whatsoever on the taste, however, the potent drink known in 19th-century france as la fée verte, the green fairy, would lose some of its magic. There are reports of archaeologists finding evidence of belts and buckles dating back to the 6th and 7th centuries in britain. Decorative belt buckles appear to have been worn for the first time as symbols of status in the 1500s throughout regional spain. Today, hand-engraved belt buckles are prized not only as fashion accessories but as inspired examples of workmanship and art. The buckle maker welds small stainless steel rods together to form the back of the buckle. After placing them in a welding fixture, he precision-welds them. Using another fixture, the buckle maker adds a center pin to the back of the buckle. After precision-welding it into place, he melts the tip of the stainless steel pin into a smooth ball. This locating pin centers the belt in the buckle. The buckle maker uses a jeweler's saw to cut the shape of the buckle from heavy gauge solid sterling silver. He stamps the company logo into the back of the buckle. Using pure silver, he solders the welded rods onto the back of the buckle, along with a stainless steel keeper tongue. He uses a jeweler's saw to cut out initials, using the font, material, and size selected by the customer. The buckle maker uses a soldering gun to apply solder to the back of the letters, which are made of gold fill, a thin layer of gold on top of brass. He carefully positions the initials on the sterling silver buckle, which has been covered with flux for the soldering phase to come. Too much solder on the back of the letters, and it could flow out onto the buckle surface. Heating the belt buckle causes the solder on the back of the letters to attach firmly to the sterling silver surface. The attachment process happens very quickly. With a polishing compound and cloth polishing wheel, he gives the buckle a brilliant shine. The buckle maker hand-engraves the buckle using assorted engraving tools. He uses a shading tool to add depth to lines. He follows guidelines drawn in felt pen. The pattern engraved is chosen by the customer. The belt maker rolls out a piece of tan strap leather. Using a gauge knife, he cuts the width of leather needed to make the belt chosen by the customer. The belt maker uses a variety of tools to cut and shape the leather. He cuts the tip of the belt. He places the leather in room-temperature water for about five minutes. When bubbles stop rising, the leather is saturated. After the leather has dried, he transfers a pattern from the design strip to the leather. Stamping tools allow him to stamp intricate designs. Using a swivel knife, he cuts to a depth of between a quarter to a third of the way through the leather. The initial pattern has been carved. With a beveler, he deepens and shapes the carved lines. He chooses a bar backgrounder to create leaf in the background. With a swivel knife, he makes the final decorative cuts. The belt maker applies dye to the background sections of the carved leather, completing the most intricate part of his work. He stamps in the maker's mark. Using a piece of sheepskin, he applies an oil finish to the belt. A thin paste highlights the cuts and gives the belt an antique finish. A final tanned coat waterproofs the belt and helps protect it. He makes holes in the belt. The belt has a bend in it where the buckle will be attached. With chicago screws, he attaches the buckle firmly to the belt. Ideally, the belt and buckle complement each other. Strong and stylish, meticulously handcrafted belt buckles and belts have managed to make a clear fashion statement out of belt-tightening. The lever lock was invented in the late 18th century by an englishman. At the time, the ward lock, with its simple, concentric plate mechanism, was the main kind of lock in use. It was medieval technology and fairly easy to pick. The lever lock took security to a whole new level. More than two centuries after their invention, lever locks are still on security duty. The mechanism hasn't changed much, except instead of two levers, there can be many inside. They fall into slots, locking the bolt until a key lifts the levers. This lever mechanism is very rugged. It will continue to function even if dirt or moisture infiltrates the lock. It's why many armed forces will only use this kind of lock. To make the two halves of the lock body, they uncoil a narrow band of heavy steel. Rollers straighten it. Then a punch press shapes and cuts out the part. Four punches produce a fully formed part. The front half includes the side flange, the keyhole, a post, and rivet holes. The parts tumble with wood chips, and the friction removes unwanted bits called burrs. The chips also absorb residual oil from punch pressing. They punch out the lock levers and other parts. They plate all 23 parts with yellow zinc. Next, rivets funnel into a network of tubing. They tumble four at a time into an assembly device. There are different-sized rivets to fit different-sized holes. The delivery system pushes the rivets up through holes in the assembly device. A factory worker places the back of a lock body on the rivets, and a hydraulic press squeezes them into place. He keeps a stash of rivets at the workbench in the event that the tubing doesn't deliver. The back of the lock body is now ready to receive the lock mechanism. There are 240 different lever combinations. The next worker determines which one to use. She places the bolt lever in the casing and slides all the other levers onto a rivet. There are a total of six levers in this particular padlock. Some locks have more, some have fewer. The more levers there are, the tougher the lock is to pick. She wraps a metal spring around a rivet... And then hinges the shackle to a third post. She sets the back half aside and assembles the keyhole cover to the front part of the lock. She winds a spring around a post and places the cover over it. The spring will allow the cover to be swung open and shut. A rivet secures the keyhole cover. She now brings the two lock body halves together, so the rivets from the back protrude through the front. She flattens the rivets to hold the parts together. The next part is the clevis. It's a u-shaped attachment for a chain to make the lock easier to hang onto when not in lockdown mode. Another worker now categorizes the locks in separate boxes, according to the key code. He leaves a key code i.d. card in each box. When transferring a lock for painting, that i.d. card goes with it. This system prevents mix-ups, so that later they'll be able to make keys to match. They spray the locks military green and give them four coats for corrosion resistance. It's time to rev up the key cutter. There are 240 key profiles to match the 240 lever lock combinations. The operator sets the blades in the desired sequence and carves the keys to give them the right geometry. With the correct profile, the key lifts and lowers the levers in the lock to open and close it. A standard padlock comes with two keys. If the owner loses them both, the lock will usually need to be replaced. That's because the keycode is never written on the lock body to avoid tipping off thieves. The technician confirms that both keys work, and this lever padlock is now ready to thwart criminals and safeguard possessions.