Outlander Kitchen

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

Archive for the category “An Echo in the Bone”

Abelour 12 YO – The Weekend Whisky Write-up

I shivered, as much from thought of old Arch, living wraithlike in the forest, surviving on the heat of his hatred, as from the cold that had come in with Jamie.  He’d let his beard grow for warmth — all the men did in winter, on the mountain — and ice glimmered in his whiskers and frosted his brows.

“You look like Old Man Winter himself,” I whispered, bringing him a bowl of hot porridge.

“I feel like it,” he replied hoarsely.  He passed the bowl under his nose, inhaling the steam and closing his eyes beatifically.  “Pass the whisky, aye?”

“You’re proposing to pour it on your porridge?  It’s got butter and salt on , already.”  Nonetheless, I passed him the bottle from its shelf over the hearth.

“Nay, I’m going to thaw my wame enough to eat it.  I’m solid ice from the neck down.”

Diana Gabaldon, An Echo in the Bone (Chapter 8 – Spring Thaw)

Aberlour-12-Year-Old-Double-Cask-Matured

Although modern standards of propriety would have most of us steering clear of the stuff early in the morning, no matter how cold our wames, long winter nights are the perfect time to indulge in uisge beatha, Scottish Gaelic for “lively water” or “water of life,” and commonly referred to as whisky.

Aberlour-distillery-old

Aberlour Distillery, about 40 miles directly west of Inverness, was founded by James Fleming in 1879 on the site of an ancient Celtic Druid settlement devoted to the worship of oak trees and water.  Today, an oak tree dominates the Aberlour label, and the distillery uses water from the same spring where saints baptised locals in the 6th century, CE (A.D.)

Most Aberlour whisky, like the bottle of 12 Year Old single malt we recently sampled, has been matured in two types of cask. The whisky is matured separately in specially selected ex-bourbon and ex-sherry casks.  American bourbon casks lend a vanilla scent and golden colour, while Oloroso sherry butts impart a fuller body, sweet/spicy overtones and an amber hue.

At maturation, the whisky from both sets of casks is brought together for the first time and the different flavours subtly mixed.  The result is a dram that, although light on peat, has deep character and balanced notes of fruits and spice.

Whisky enthusiasts who enjoy peat may find that Aberlour doesn’t have enough to satisfy, but those of us that like a slightly sweet palate and a smooth finish will find a lot to like in this affordable choice.  A great bottle for the newbie and the seasoned connoisseur alike.

Slàinté Mhath!

Scotch Eggs from An Echo in the Bone

I put down my cup and stared at him.

“You don’t mean you aren’t planning to go ho-to go back to the Ridge?”  I had a sudden empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, remembering our plans for the New House, the smell of balsam fir, and the quiet of the mountains.  Did he really mean to move to Boston or Philadelphia?

“No,” he said, surprised.  “Of course we shall go back there.  But if I mean to be in the printing trade, Sassenach, we shall need to be in a city for a time, no?  Only ’til the war is over,” he said, encouraging.

“Oh,” I said in a small voice.  “Yes. Of course.” I drank tea, not tasting it.  How could I have been so stupid?  I had never once thought that, of course, a printing press would be pointless on Fraser’s Ridge.  In part, I supposed, I simply hadn’t really believed he would get his press back, let alone thought ahead to the logical conclusion if he did.

But now he had his Bonnie back, and the future had suddenly acquired a disagreeable solidity.  Not that cities didn’t have considerable advantages, I told myself stoutly.  I could finally acquire a decent set of medical instruments, replenish my medicines — why, I could even make penicillin and ether again!  With a little better appetite, I took a Scotch egg.

Diana Gabaldon, An Echo in the Bone (Chapter 74 – Twenty-Twenty)

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Shepherd’s Pie from An Echo in the Bone

He passed the Free North Church and half-smiled at it, thinking of Mrs. Ogilvy and Mrs. MacNeil.  They’d be back, he knew, if he didn’t do something about it.  He knew their brand of determined kindliness.  Dear God, if they heard that Bree had gone to work and — to their way of thinking — abandoned him with two small children, they’d be running shepherd’s pies and hot stovies out to him in relays.  That mightn’t be such a bad thing, he thought, meditatively licking his lips — save that they’d stay to poke their noses into the workings of his household, and letting them into Brianna’s kitchen would be not merely playing with dynamite but deliberately throwing a bottle of nitroglycerin into the midst of his marriage.

“Catholics don’t believe in divorce,” Bree had informed him once.  “We do believe in murder.  There’s always Confession, after all.”

Diana Gabaldon, An Echo in the Bone (Chapter 16 – Unarmed Conflict)

shepherds-pie

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Introducing The OK Recipe Index!

I took a sheet of paper, pristine and creamy, placed it just so, and dipped my quill, excitement thrumming in my fingers.

I closed my eyes in reflex, then opened them again.  Where ought I to begin?

Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop.  The line from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland drifted through my mind, and I smiled.  Good advice, I supposed – but only if you happened to know where the beginning was, and I didn’t quite.

I twiddled the quill a bit, thinking.

Perhaps I should have an outline?  That seemed sensible — and a little less daunting than starting straight in to write.  I lowered the quill and held it poised above the paper for a moment, then picked it up again.  An outline would have a beginning, too, wouldn’t it?

The ink was beginning to dry on the point.  Rather crossly, I wiped it and was just about to dip it again, when the maid scratched discreetly at the door.

Diana Gabaldon, An Echo in the Bone, Chapter 74

Quill in Hand

photo by Vee-Vee

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Rachel Hunter’s Dog Treats for Rollo

The pandemonium grew worse.  There were bangs from two or three pistols, and Rollo dropped writhing to the ground with a yelp.  Colonel Martin jerked back, cursing and clutching his injured wrist, and Jamie drew back and punched him in the belly.  Ian was already rushing toward Rollo; Jamie grabbed the dog by two legs, and, between them, they made off into the darkness, followed my Rachel and me.

We made it to the edge of the wood, heaving and gasping, and I fell at once to my knees beside Rollo, feeling frantically over the huge shaggy body, hunting for the wound, for damage.

“He’s not dead,” I panted.  “Shoulder…broken.”

“Oh, God,” Ian said, and I felt him turn to glance in the direction from which pursuit was surely headed.  “Oh, Jesus.” I heard the tears in his voice, and he reached to his belt for his knife. 

“What are you doing?”  I exclaimed.  “He can be healed!”

“They’ll kill him,” he said, savage.  “If I’m no there to stop them, they’ll kill him!  Better I do it.”

“I –” Jamie began, but Rachel Hunter forestalled him, falling to her knees and grabbing Rollo by the scruff.

“I’ll mind thy dog for thee,” she said, breathless but certain. “Run!”

He took one last despairing look at her, then at Rollo.  And he ran.

Diana Gabaldon, An Echo in the Bone, Chap 68

dooze-

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