Outlander Kitchen

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

Archive for the category “Outlander”

11 May 2013
16 Comments

Looking for Outlander – One Fan’s Scottish Adventure – Part I

OK rainbow

Moored on Loch Dochfour – the last stop before Loch Ness

It was after nine when we arrived, and the guide Frank had called for was awaiting us on the edge of the loch with a small sailing skiff.

“An’ it suits ye, sir, I thought we’d take a wee sail down the loch-side to Urquhart Castle.  Perhaps we’ll sup a bit there, before goin’ on.”  The guide, a dour-looking little man in weather-beaten cotton shirt and twill trousers, stowed the picnic hamper tidily beneath the seat, and offered me a callused hand down into the well of the boat.

Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (Chapter 2 – Standing Stones)

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Posted in Beyond the Books, Outlander and tagged , , , , , , ,
22 Jan 2013
15 Comments

Cullen Skink

“Oh, Arthur knew,” she said.  “He wouldna admit it, to be sure — not even to himself.  But he knew.  We’d sit across the board from each other at supper, and I’d ask, “Will ye have a bit more o’ the cullen skink, my dear?’ of “A sup of ale, my own?’ And him watching me, with those eyes like boiled eggs, and he’d say no, he didna feel himself with an appetite just then.  And he’d push his plate back, and later I’d hear him in the kitchen, secret-like, gobbling his food standing by the hutch, thinking himself safe, because he ate no food that came from my hand.”

Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (Chapter 25 – Thou Shalt Not Suffer a Witch to Live)

Cullen-Skink

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Posted in Outlander
30 Nov 2012
2 Comments

Old Pulteney 12 YO – The Weekend Whisky Write-up

There was a lessening of the tension over the hall, and almost an audible sigh of relief in the gallery as Colum drank from the quaich and offered it to Jamie.  The young man accepted it with a smile.  Instead of the customary ceremonial sip, however, he carefully raised the nearly full vessel, tilted it and drank.  And kept on drinking.  There was a gasp of mingled respect and amusement from the spectators, as the powerful throat muscles kept moving.  Surely he’d have to breathe soon, I thought, but no.  He drained the heavy cup to the last drop, lowered it with an explosive gasp for air, and handed it back to Colum.

“The honor is mine,” he said, a little hoarsely, “to be allied with a clan whose taste in whisky is so fine.”

Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (Chapter 10 – The Oath Taking)

quaich

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Posted in Outlander, Beyond the Books and tagged , , , , , , ,
15 Oct 2012
4 Comments

Carrot Cupcake Craigh na Dun

As the evening star began to glow among the black pines’ branches, I concluded that in this situation reason was of little use.  I would have to rely on something else; just what, I wasn’t sure.  I turned toward the split rock and took a step, then another, and another, and before I even knew that I had decided, I was halfway down the slope, scrabbling wildly at grass clumps, slipping and falling through the patches of granite scree.

When I reached the cottage, breathless with fear lest he had left already, I was reassured to see Donas hobbled and grazing nearby.  The horse raised his head and eyed me unpleasantly.  Walking softly, I pushed the door open.

Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (Chapter 25 – Thou Shalt Not Suffer a Witch to Live)

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Posted in Outlander and tagged , , , , ,
18 Jun 2012
24 Comments

Gypsy Stew from Outlander

I was cautious, but we were welcomed with expansive motions, and invited to share the Gypsies’ dinner.  It smelt delicious – some sort of stew – and I eagerly accepted the invitation, ignoring Murtagh’s dour speculations as to the basic nature of the beast that had provided the stewmeat.

They spoke little English, and less Gaelic; we conversed largely in gestures, and a sort of bastard tongue that owed its parentage largely to French.  It was warm and companionable in the caravan where we ate; men and women and children all ate casually from bowls, sitting wherever they could find space, dipping the succulent stew up with chunks of bread.  It was the best food I had had in weeks, and I ate until my sides creaked.  I could barely muster breath to sing, but did my best, humming along in the difficult spots, and leaving Murtagh to carry the tunes.

Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (Chapter 34 – Dougal’s Story)

gypsy-stew

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