Outlander Kitchen

Historical and Character-Inspired Food from the fictional world of Diana Gabaldon.

Archive for the month “January, 2012”

Jamie & Frank Play Checkers

I wish I could have fought him for you,” he said abruptly, looking back at me. His blue eyes were dark and earnest.

I smiled at him, touched.

“It wasn’t your fight, it was mine. But you won it anyway.” I reached out a hand, and he squeezed it.

“Aye, but that’s not what I meant. If I’d fought him man to man and won, ye’d not need to feel any regret over it.” He hesitated. “If ever –”

“There aren’t any more ifs,” I said firmly. “I thought of every one of them yesterday, and here I still am.”

“Thank God,” he said, smiling, “and God help you.” Then he added, “Though I’ll never understand why.”

Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (Chapter 25)

J & F draw a line in the sand.

J & F draw a line in the sand.

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An “Elizabethan” Salmagundi from The Scottish Prisoner (Sort of)

“I should be so pleased, ” von Namtzen said.  “But I am engaged…” He turned, looking vaguely behind him and gesturing toward a well-dressed gentleman who had been standing out of range.  “You know Mr. Frobisher?  His lordship John Grey,” he explained to Frobisher, who bowed.

“Certainly,” the gentleman replied courteously.  “It would give me great pleasure, Lord John, was you to join us.  I have two brace of partridge ordered, a fresh-caught salmon, and a vast great trifle to follow — Captain von Namtzen and I will be quite unequal to the occasion, I am sure.”

Grey, with some experience of von Namtzen’s capacities, rather thought that the Hanoverian was likely to engulf the entire meal single-handedly and then require a quick snack before retiring, but before he could excuse himself, Harry snatched the kidnapped papers from his hand, thus requiring an introduction to Frobisher and von Namtzen, and in the social muddle that ensued, all four found themselves going in to supper together, with a salmagundi and a few bottles of good Burgundy hastily ordered to augment the meal.

Diana Gabaldon, The Scottish Prisoner (Chapter 9)

salmagundi from the Beefsteak Club

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Mrs. Bug’s Overnight Parritch from The Fiery Cross

“Mmmphm!”  said Mrs. Bug’s voice, grimly satisfied at having routed the rioters.  The door closed, and the clang of wood and clang of metal from below announced the commencement of the day’s activities.

When I went down a few moments later, I found that good lady engaged simultaneously in toasting bread, boiling coffee, making parritch, and complaining as she tidied up the men’s leavings.  Not about the untidiness — what else could be expected of men? — but rather that Jamie had not waked her to provide a proper breakfast for them.

“And how’s Himself to manage, then?” she demanded, brandishing the toasting-fork at me in reproach.  “A fine, big man like that , and him out and doing wi’ no more to line his wame that a wee sup of milk and a stale bannock?”

Casting a bleary eye over the assorted crumbs and dirty crockery, it appeared to me that Himself and his companions had probably accounted for at least two dozen corn muffins and an entire loaf of salt-rising bread, accompanied by a pound or so of fresh butter, a jar of honey, a bowl of raisins, and all of the first milking.

“I don’t think he’ll starve,” I murmured, dabbing up a crumb with a moistened forefinger.  “Is the coffee ready?”

Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross (Chapter 22)

Mrs. Bug's Overnight Parritch

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The Outlander Kitchen 2012 Resolution Diet

“Am I sexually attractive?” I demanded. His eyes always reminded me of coffee drops, with their warm golden-brown color. Now they went completely round, enhancing the resemblance.

They they narrowed, but he didn’t answer immediately. He looked me over carefully, head to toe.

“It’s a trick question, right?” he said. “I give you and answer and one of those women’s libbers jumps out from behind the door, yells ‘Sexist pig!’ And hits me over the head with a sign that says ‘Castrate Male Chauvinists.’ Huh?”

“No,” I assured him. “A sexist male chauvinist answer is basically what I want.”

“Oh, okay. As long as we’re straight, then.” He resumed his perusal, squinting closely as I stood up straight.

“Skinny white broad with too much hair, but a great ass,” he said at last. “Nice tits, too,” he added, with a cordial nod. “That what you want to know?”

“Yes,”I said, relaxing my rigid posture. “That’s exactly what I wanted to know. It isn’t the sort of question you can ask just anybody.”

He pursed his lips in a silent whistle, then threw back his head and roared with delight.

“Lady Jane! You’ve got a man!”

Diana Gabaldon, Voyager (Chapter 20)

sun-worshipper bronze by László Kutas – photo by Bronze Gifts

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