Outlander Kitchen

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

Archive for the category “An Echo in the Bone”

16 Apr 2012

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)

Posted in An Echo in the Bone and tagged an echo in the bone, cottage, diana gabaldon, dinner, lamb, mashed, outlander, pie, potatoes, roger, shepherds

15 Mar 2012

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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

photo by Vee-Vee

Posted in An Echo in the Bone, Beyond the Books and tagged an echo in the bone, book, diana gabaldon, index, outlander kitchen, recipe

05 Dec 2011

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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

Posted in An Echo in the Bone, Beyond the Books and tagged christmas, claire, diana gabaldon, dog treats, ian, jamie, rachel hunter, rollo, sweet potato

28 Nov 2011

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Jenny’s Everyday Bread from An Echo in the Bone

SHE WAS SMALLER than I had remembered, and thinner, her hair with a little more gray in it though still darkly vibrant — but the deep-blue-cat-eyes were just the same, as was the natural air of command she shared with her brother.

“Leave the horses,” she said briskly, wiping her eyes on the corner of her apron. “I’ll have one o’ the lads take care of them. Ye’ll be frozen and starving — take off your things and come into the parlor.” She glanced at me, with a brief look of curiosity and something else I couldn’t interpret — but didn’t met my eyes directly or say more than “Come,” as she led the way to the parlor.

The house smelled familiar but strange, steeped in peat smoke and the scent of cooking; someone had just baked bread, and the yeasty smell floated down the hall from the kitchen. The hall itself was nearly as cold as the outdoors; all the rooms had their doors closed tight to keep in the heat from their fires, and a welcome wave of warmth eddied out when she opened the door to the parlor, turning to pull Ian in first.

Diana Gabaldon, An Echo in the Bone, Chapter 76