Outlander Kitchen

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

Archive for the tag “the fiery cross”

Lizzie’s Beer – A Tale of Two Ales

Jamie chewed industriously, washing down a large bite with a gulp of ale.  He made an involuntary face, pursed his lips to spit, then changed his mind and swallowed.

“Ach!  Mrs. Lizzie’s been at the mash again.”  He grimaced and took a remedial bite of biscuit to erase the taste.

Roger grinned at his father-in-law’s face.

“What’s she put in it this time?”  Lizzie had been trying her hand at flavored ales – with indifferent success.

Jamie sniffed warily at the mouth of the stone bottles.

“Anise?” he suggested, passing the bottles to Roger.

Roger smelt it, wrinkling up his nose involuntarily at the alcoholic whiff.

“Anise and ginger,” he said.  Nevertheless, he took a cautious sip.  He made the same face Jamie had, and emptied the bottle over a compliant blackberry vine.

Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross (Chapter 86 – There’s a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea)

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Handmade for the Holidays – Outlander Kitchen’s 2nd Annual Christmas Wish List

Catholic as many of them were — and nominally christian as they all were – Highland Scots regarded Christmas primarily as a religious observance, rather than a major festive occasion.  Lacking priest or minister, the day was spent much like a Sunday, though with a particularly lavish meal to mark the occasion, and the exchange of small gifts.  My own gift from Jamie had been the wooden ladle I was presently using, its handle carved with the image of a mint leaf; I had given him a new shirt with a ruffle at the throat for ceremonial occasions, his old one having worn quite away at the seams.

Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross (Chapter 34 – Charms)

late 18th C gentleman's shirt


picture from The Metropolitan Museum of Art

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Battlefield Blackberry Jam from The Fiery Cross

Jamie and the Governor, shaken out of their nose to nose confrontation, had also retired to the shadows; I could see them, two stiff shadows, one tall and one shorter, standing close together.  The element of danger had gone out of their tête-a-tête, though; I could see Jamie’s head bent slightly toward Tryon’s shadow, listening.

“… brought food,” Phoebe Sherston was telling me, her round face pink with excited self-importance.  “Fresh bread, and butter, and some blackberry jam and cold chicken and…”

“Food!”  I said, abruptly reminded of the parcel I held under my arm.  “Do pardon me!” I gave her a quick, bright smile, and ducked away, leaving her open-mouthed in front of the tent.

Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross (Chapter 72 – Tinder and Char)

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Governor Tryon’s Humble Crumble Apple Pie

It was a mistake!  And one I have come to rectify, so far as I may!”  Tryon was standing his ground, jaw tight as he glared upward.

“A mistake.  And is the loss of an innocent man’s life no more than that to ye?  You will kill and maim, for the sake of your glory, and pay no heed to the destruction ye leave — save only that the record of your exploits may be enlarged.  How will it look in the dispatches ye send to England — sir?  That ye brought cannon to bear on your own citizens, armed with no more than knives and clubs?  Or will it say that ye put down rebellion and preserved order?  Will it say that in your haste to vengeance, ye hanged an innocent man?  Will it say there that ye made ‘a mistake’?  Or will it say that ye punished wickedness, and did justice in the King’s name?”

Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross (Chapter 72 – Tinder and Char)

slice-

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Battle Barbecue – Renegade Rosamund’s Devil’s Apple Sauce

“It’s the tomato fruits she’s using, Mac Dubh,” he hissed, tugging at Jamie’s sleeve and pointing at the red-crusted bowl.  “Devil’s apples!  She’ll poison us all!”

“Oh, I shouldna think so, Ronnie.”  Jamie took a firm grip on Ronnie’s arm, and smiled engagingly at Rosamund.  “Ye mean to sell the meat, I suppose, Mrs. Lindsay?  It’s a poor merchant that would kill her customers, aye?”

“I ain’t yet lost a one, Mr. Fraser,” Rosamund agreed, turning back another sheet of burlap and leaning over to dribble sauce from a wooden ladle over a steaming haunch.  “Ain’t never had but good words about the taste, neither,” she said, “though a-course that would be in Boston, where I come from.”

Where folk have sense, her tone clearly implied.

Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross (Chapter 13 – Beans and Barbecue)

rosamunds-plate

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