Outlander Kitchen

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

Happy Birthday JAMMF! (and a Giveaway)

“Happy Birthday,” I said, softly.  “Taking stock?”  He let the hand fall on his chest, and turned his head to look at me, smiling.

“Aye, something of the sort.  Though I suppose I’ve a few hours left.  I was born at half-six; I willna have lived a full half-century until suppertime.”

I laughed and rolled onto my side, kicking the blanket off.  The air was still delightfully cool, but it wouldn’t last long.

“Do you expect to disintegrate much further before supper?” I asked, teasing.

“Oh, I dinna suppose anything is likely to fall off by then,” he said, consideringly.  “As to the workings…aye, well…” He arched his back, stretching, and sank back with a gratified groan as my hand settled on him.

“It all seems to be in perfect working order,” I assured him.  I gave a brief, experimental tug, making him yelp slightly.  “Not loose at all.”

Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross (Chapter58 – Happy Birthday to You)

jamies-hazelnut-birthday-cake

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Outlander Light Switch Covers – DIY Saturday

outlander-excerpt-light-switch-cover

Nothing like an afternoon of crafting to pass away a rainy April day!

Literary light switch covers are a wonderfully semi-geeky and inexpensive way to bring books out from beneath their covers and decorate your living space with the words and passages you love.  Not surprising I chose to make some Outlander ones first.

Now, I’m usually a bit of a fuss pot when I craft…but the imperfectness of these corners reminds me of the dog-eared pages and taped-together covers from my beloved pre-Kindle DG collection…it’s nice to have them back on view and under my fingertips again.

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Jamie’s Grilled Cheese from The Scottish Prisoner

Breakfast was even more cursory than supper had been, though Jamie toasted two pieces of bread with cheese between, so that the cheese melted, something Grey hadn’t seen before but thought very tasty.  Quinn mounted up without comment afterward and headed back to the road.

Grey sat on a moss-covered rock, watching until the Irishman had got well away, then swiveled back to face Fraser, who was tidily rolling up a pair of stocking into a ball.

“I woke up last night,” he said without preamble.

Fraser stuffed the stocking into his portmanteau and reached for the heel of bread, which followed the stockings.

“Did you,” he said, not looking up.

“Yes.  One question – does Mr. Quinn know the nature of our business with Siverly?”

Fraswer hesitated a moment before answering.

“Probably not.”  He looked up, eyes a startlingly deep blue.  “If he does, he didna hear it from me.”

Diana Gabaldon, The Scottish Prisoner (Chapter 16 – Tower House)

grilled-cheese

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Jocasta’s Got the Munchies & The Winner!

“Will ye have keek in my saddlebags, lass?” she asked, stretching a little to ease herself on the bed.  “There’s a bittie parcel in there of an herb ye might find of interest.”

I found it immediately — by smell.

“Where on earth did you get that?” I asked, halfway amused.

“Farquard Campbell,” she replied matter-of-factly.  “When ye told me what the difficulty was with my eyes, I asked Fentiman if he kent anything that might be of help, and he told me that he’d heard somewhere that hemp might be of use.  Farquard Campbell has a field of it under cultivation, so I thought I might as well try it.  It does seem to help.  Would ye put it in my hand, please, niece?”

Fascinated, I put the parcel of hemp and the little stack of papers down on the table beside her, and guided her hand to it.  Rolling carefully onto her side to prevent the poultice falling off, she took a good pinch of aromatic herb, sprinkled it down the center of the paper, and rolled as tidy a joint as I had ever seen in Boston.

Without comment, I held the candle flame for her to light it, and she eased herself back on the pillow, nostrils flaring as she took a deep lungful of smoke.

Diana Gabaldon, A Breath of Snow and Ashes (Chapter 110 – The Smell of Light)

jocastas-munchies

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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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