In the season 6 finale 'The Winds of Winter', Arya bakes Walder Frey a pie that would have Julia Child rolling in her grave- and not just because of dry pastry.Disguised as a servant girl, Arya urges Walder to open up the crust, revealing his two sons- Lame Lothar and Black Walder- baked into the filling, fingernails and all.
The Unofficial Game of Thrones CookbookFrom Direwolf Ale to Auroch Stew—More than 150 Recipes from the Westeros and Beyond
Alan Kistler
creator and co-host of
Crazy Sexy Geeks
Avon, Massachusetts
For my parents, Kevin and Lourdes.
This book is unofficial and unauthorized. It is not authorized, approved, licensed,
or endorsed by George R. R. Martin, his publishers, or HBO.
Lord Walder Frey
ContentsIntroduction
“Winter is coming … ”
That’s enough to give you goosebumps, isn’t it? The House of Stark’s words put a chill in the air, a sensation of icy wind and perhaps even snow, of chapped lips and cold hands seeking warmth. Even if Winterfell is just in our imagination, it can still
feel
real.
George R. R. Martin has filled his series A Song of Ice and Fire with simple phrases and vivid passages that flood our minds with a torrent of feelings. Whether we’re reading the books or watching the show, we’re
in
Westeros in our minds. We envision ourselves sitting in the castles and fortresses of the Lannisters or the Starks. We ride with the Dothraki across a dreamscape. We feel the winds that blow at the top of the Wall, the bitter cold and the thinner atmosphere that somehow makes us more alert that out there, north of what we’ve come to know of the world, are creatures that should not exist and, worse, have taken notice of us.
Game Of Thrones Pigeon Pie Walder Frey Die
Humans, no matter what nation they are from or what kind of family raised them, are innately sensual. We always find ways to carry ourselves to places and times beyond our physical reach. Indeed, food can whisk us away in one sip, one bite, one breath. The moment we open a bottle of well-aged wine, we are breathing in the air of those long-ago times, air that was inadvertently trapped by whoever bottled the wine in the first place. When we eat a meal “from the old country,” we can imagine — in some corner of our mind where imagination keeps its best knick-knacks and mementos — that we are transported back, whether we’ve been there or not. We can imagine some aspect of how our ancestors lived because we know their food. We hunger for the fanciful and sate it with a bite of reality — so why not do the same for the fantasy of Westeros?