To know someone, break bread with them. Many people, myself included, have spent a great deal of their discretionary entertainment hours watching the cast of GOT evolve, devolve or cease to be. When I am connecting with someone, I will often inquire about their ‘favorite’ meals. “What foods bring you comfort, indulgence or nostalgia?” I ask. You can learn a great deal about someone through this practice. For example, someone responding that Turkey with stuffing and a slice of seasonal pie indicates to me that this person enjoys simple pleasures or perhaps time with family. Whereas a response such as Lobster bisque and a tall pour of Bordeaux leads me to believe they are more inclined towards an elevated experience and is possibly an aristocrat or socialite. A common response to this question in Tennessee (my home) might be for some type of customized fried chicken or a cut of steak served with sweet tea.
When I am connecting with someone, I will often inquire about their ‘favorite’ meals. “What foods bring you comfort, indulgence or nostalgia?”
When I prepare meals for family and friends, I do so with the intention of serving what I perceive to be their innate character. This is sometimes done in contrast with my personal preference. For example, I may dull my inclination to add exotic spices to a dish in favor of simplistic flavors for people who might shun such amenities…….my children for example. My daughter prefers plain, tough egg whites vs french style eggs cooked in browned butter with truffle salt. Time, and a great many wasted efforts, has taught me that my endeavors to elevate her palate on my schedule is generally as effective as a political discussion with my parents.
Now, as the final season of Game of Thrones (GOT) is airing, I thought it might be a fun exercise in culinary creativity to cook a meal for each character. I say character because I have no idea what the actors who portray such icons are like, nor do I suppose to know their preferences. For all I know, the entire cast prefers vegan or raw foods and would scoff at most of my offerings. Such food preferences would also make for a bland article best suited for an alternative author.
When I prepare meals for family and friends, I do so with the intention of serving what I perceive to be their innate character.
Samwell Tarly: He is a simple man. He is humble and giving. He prefers a quiet life without exotic influences and demands. For Samwell, I start by serving smoked salmon with goat cheese on a sliced baguette. Smoke, salt sour with a crunch for texture. The main course is quite hardy, a shepherd’s pie with browned bits of lamb, fresh snow peas, carrots, onions and celery all bound in a fond flavored white sauce with heavy cream and topped with a flaky crust. Perhaps a few pinches of fresh nutmeg to taunt the palette.
Samwell: “That was filling. I need to return to my meister duties and spend the next 12 days changing bedpans and reading ancient books. Any one of these dusty papers may contain clues as to how we can defeat the Whitewalkers”.
Me: “Understood, how about a cappuccino to lubricate your thinking?”
Samwell, that sounds delightful, thank you…..only…. I’m lactose intolerant so could you make that with soy or coconut milk?”
Me: “Oh…. Yes…. of course”. I do so without mentioning the fact that I used an immodest amount of heavy cream in his entree.
Samwell: The dishes….. I should do them. You see, I want to be a part of this, I …… I want to help.
I hand him his cappuccino, politely decline his offer of assistance and encourage him to go enjoy a good book. Moments later his wildling wife enters and offers to assist with the dishes.
Brienne of Tarth: She is powerful, honorable….oh…. and a bit tall. She, like Samwell, is humble and prefers her meals accordingly. Her daily regimen of training and protecting (stalking) the Stark daughters has left her with a need for enough protein to fuel a few hours of riding horseback and at least as many beheadings.
I suspect she wants to get straight to the course and be on her way. I stick with a single course meal to replenish the dietary needs of a busy warrior. I serve her roasted leg of lamb that has cooked over a spit. Rosemary and garlic are pressed into the meat with kosher salt. A mix of hardy seasonal vegetables, fingerling potatoes and brussel sprouts, have cooked in a cast iron skillet and are flavored by the rendered fat and juices from the lamb. She wastes no time. She nods approvingly then between bites she lectures me on the importance of keeping one’s oaths. I acknowledge her points and pretend that this somehow applies to the situation. She finishes her meal then stands before me.
Brienne: Is this all of it, or is there another course coming?
Me: That’s all….well….I mean… see there was another course but this blasted shadow demon with the face of Gordon Ramsey snuck into my kitchen and messed with the bloody oven heat. Now the Apple Gallette is ruined.
She then drops to one knee. We are pretty much at eye level now.
Brienne: I swear by the old gods and the new to protect you whilst serving as your sous chef.
In terms of a response to my cooking, this is a first. My kids generally show their gratitude by stating “I managed to finish all of that ‘stuff’, now can I get some dessert”. Hmm…. I could use some help in the kitchen on occasion. My first inclination is to accept, but then I recall the first few patrons who accepted this honor and humbly decline.
Jamie Lannister:
My first inclination is to serve a meal that does not require the use of multiple utensils. Then, I decide that this may come across as insulting. I don’t want to add ‘Chef Slayer’ to his list of unrequested titles. After some deliberation, I opt for a Salted Cod Cake. Much like Jamie, it’s a relic of the old ways that has managed to stay modern. In the old world and the new, the principles of a knight and a chef remain intact. Presumably, at their core, a chef should strive to cook with Love and a knight/warrior should live with Honor. I find it slightly more convenient in my life to cook with love. I hydrate the cured cod.this takes about a day of soaking the fish and changing the water. Side Note, in old world Italy, grandma’s would place the cod in the water feed for the toilet. That way the water was replaced and the cod was re-soaked every few hours. Clever use of resources.
I emulsify the hydrated cod with potato and herbs in ‘ye olden processor of foods’. I then baste it with browned butter and bake it until the outside is crispy. I follow this with a tray of various sliced fruits that contrast sweet and savory, E.g. persimmons and fresh figs. This juxtaposition of flavors seems aptly synonymous with that of his character. Which is to say, its path and relative influence favor the company of that which is present.
Jamie: How much do I owe you for the pleasure of this meal?
Me: Nothing my lord. Just the satisfaction of knowing you enjoyed it is my reward.
Jamie: But I can pay you handsomely and a Lanister always pays his debts.
Me: The iron bank issued Mastercard is not needed here. Go in peace.
Inthe old world and the new, the principles of a knight and a chef remain intact. Presumably, at their core, a chef should strive to cook with Love and a knight/warrior should live with Honor. I find it slightly more convenient in my life to cook with love.
Cersei Lannister:
Powerful, conniving and sporting the darkest form-fitting outfit, (armor?) I’ve ever seen a queen wear. Were it not for her occasional demonstrations of motherly love, I would have opted to skip this particular opportunity. She marches into the dining area barking orders to XXX about her latest plot. I overhear bits and pieces. Something to do with sending a raven with the news that bitcoin is now the standard kingdom currency (screw the iron bank). I know she is a light eater and prefers more…… liquid supplementation. I start with a salad that favors her character. Bitter endive and radicchio that has been sauteed and sweetened with caramelized balsamic vinegar. I do a simple lemon juice and olive oil vinaigrette with a dash of grated garlic. I top it with butter toasted pistachios and goat cheese crumbles. In a similar vein, I contrast sour and sweet. Dessert is pears poached in a burgundy wine via sous vide. I plan to serve them with creme fraiche then top them with a reduced wine syrup.
She makes her way to the table and does not seem amused. she takes a bite of the salad, chews slowly then swallows. The next few seconds of silence seem like the long wait I felt between episode releases during the final season. She then pulls her royal napkin which is embroidered with the family Crest and pats it around her mouth for a few seconds of awkward silence.
Cersei: “Well, I used to think the walk of atonement was the most horrific experience one could endure, but I feel we now have a contender. This pile of rancid produce may have served as my meal of atonement for a lifetime of cruelty. Tell the god’s when you see them shortly that my debts for all cruel acts and intentions have been paid in full”.
Me: Sooo……. I’m guessing you don’t want to try the entree? And what do you mean tell the….
Cersei: A trial by combat then! I dub the Mountain as my representative!
I’m starting to think I should have accepted Brienne’s offer of protection and food prep.
Me: My queen, your son, the late king Tommen banned trials by combat, besides I have brought for you this rare vintage of wine from Boone’s far….umm…..castle. Taste and sense the subtle flavors of peach, strawberries and muscadine grapes. Tis the finest of hooch. It will warm your heart more than Milk of the Poppy and leave no hangover henceforth.
Cersei: Very well then….leave it here and begone before my grace and forgiveness changes favor.
I make haste and walk away from the dining table. As I pass her massive personal guard, Sir Mcgreggor, I whisper in his ear that there is a plate of spicy indian chicken marsala over saffron rice sitting covered on the kitchen counter. “Help yourself” I say. “When you finish that, dessert is resting in the icebox”.
Jon Snow: John strikes me as the kind of man who eats as he lives; Clean and ethically. I want to serve him something, simple and eloquent yet with a touch of richness. I plan accordingly and prepare him butter basted wild salmon over local, seasonal sauteed greens with french style mashed potatoes. French style is a fancy way of saying that the potatoes are emulsified to a creamy and heartwarming ratio ($hit-ton) of about half butter half potato. All the ingredients in this course can thrive even in weather as harsh as that of Winterfell. I pair this with a glass of Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars KARIA Chardonnay 2016, which according to this handy dandy poster is a good pairing. No coincidence here that the Stag represents House Baratheon, but then, Wolf, Dragon and Lion logo wines tend to be in the dark section of Trader Joe’s wine selection. I assume one buys from this section when penance via ingestion of rancid spirits is more convenient than say…. Apologizing for wrongdoings to one’s self, someone else or perhaps reciting a baker’s dozen sets of Hail Mary’s.
I opt for white wine because every time I see a character drink wine on this show, its blood red and it’s time for some changes. And while I’m on this tangent, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a show use more scenes with meat as a detractor of one’s character. It’s practically a supporting character on the show. Every time we aren’t supposed to like someone, some evil character doing some maniacal act, the cinematography centers around said character cramming some type of protein into their gullet. This is generally done without the use of utensils. Alas, I have digressed twice in as many paragraphs. Back to our meal.
Idon’t know that I’ve ever seen a show use more scenes with meat as a detractor of one’s character. It’s practically a supporting character on the show.
Such protein debauchery is never the case with our good friend John Snow. He eats slowly and modestly, never spitting food about the room whilst communicating his thoughts. The very opposite, he tends to stew on his thoughts and keep to himself until finally he is asked for his insights. Sometimes he conveys profound approaches that are pivotal towards the survival of the Wall, Winterfell or the seven kingdoms. Then…. there are other times when he comes across as more of a medieval version of Keanu Reeves.
I watch him lean over the plate and eat quietly. He is always wearing that ginormous fur robe, cape, jacket thing and now I’m worried that it will shed and he will think that it’s me that got hair in the food.
Jon: And now My Meal has ended.
Me: You know nothing Jon Snow! I have made you dessert. I hath scoured the web for cookies as good as ‘Hot Pie’ makes.
I pull 2 cookies fresh from the oven and serve them with a 3 oz pour of Hibiki Suntory whiskey. In true Jon Snow Fashion, he eats one of the cookies and drinks half of the whiskey. I know very few individuals who would demonstrate such self control.
Side Note: Confession, I’m not really a chocolate chip cookie person. I think they tend to be massively overrated sugar bombs that are mostly consumed in a desire to re-experience some type of nostalgia. Then, I saw this video, and decided I could go for the big leagues of cookie confection. Research on the web led me to this recipe (you’re welcome).
I have gone through the effort (I assure you, it’s a $hit-ton of prep work), of making the cookies listed in this recipe and they really are amazing. I smoked the cookie batter in a container, sealed it, and left it covered in the fridge for 2 days as advised. A few tips. Make a lot, then freeze them as individual scoops. I put 5 or so in each ziplock and just cooked them as I needed them….which…. by the way, was often. Once my family had a taste, it was requested constantly.
Arya Stark: Aria is adorable, nimble, deadly and speaks with an accent thick with the queen’s english. Her body moves like a medieval ninja, but her mind thinks like a sensei. I know she spends a great deal of her time spying, sparring and spooking.
Arya strikes me as the kind of gal who would feel right at home in a pub so I go for some higher end bar foods. Chicken Tacos with a twist. Cordon Bleu(ish) tacos made with buttermilk chicken, serrano ham, blue cheese. I’ll add pickled onions and radishes as well as a layer of sriracha aioli to contrast the blu cheese.
The key to good buttermilk chicken is to start yesterday. Cover your chicken in salt and put it in a ziploc bag with buttermilk. It needs to marinate/ brine for a day. Credit to chef Samin on this recipe. It’s in her book as well as her Netflix show. I’ve made this a few times and it’s always a crowd pleaser. The meat is so tender and juicy that it should make for some rich tacos. My timer goes off. I reach to grab the massive iron skillet out of the oven. The chickens’ skin is perfectly seared. I carefully reach and pull the chicken from the oven.
Arya: Wha are you doin there?
Me: Wha?!
I watch in slow motion as the chicken floats in the air. It seems like a sad bit of irony. Had I just cooked the chicken like everyone else, (tough, chewy, oven roasted), it would have just bounced when it hit the ground. Instead, because it was sooooo damned tender, it hit the ground like a poultry grenade with legs limbs and bits strewn about the kitchen floor.
Arya: Quite a mess there, sorry. What’s for dinner?
Me:……Ham and cheese tacos.
The pub is dark now. Her table is dimly lit by candlelight. I spend the next 20 minutes assembling the tacos. I set them under the broiler to give the meat and cheese a nice char. While Maillard’s magic is taking place, I wrap up the accompanying cocktail. In the same spirit as tacos, I’m elevating the drink with a few nice touches. A Mezcal Margarita infused with Jalapeno and basil simple syrup. I put it in a martini glass and ‘carefully’ get the tacos from the broiler. I keep checking over my shoulder to make sure she doesn’t surprise me. I plate the tacos atop a de-quilled cactus leaf and carry the plate in my left hand and the cocktail in my right. Just as I approach the table, the light goes out. I hear the sound of boots hitting the floor in a rhythm. I think she is doing some sort of cartwheel when it suddenly stops. I hear the distinct sound of a sword (pincushion) cutting through the air a slight bump in my right hand. I stagger over to the table and attempt to light the candle. I suspect my thumb had been cleanly cut off. Instead, as the light begins to grow and flicker, I can see she’s cleanly cut the martini glass in half mid-stem and the upper half is missing. Also, I only see one of the two tacos on the plate. The door opens and I see her silhouette walking away. She cast back the top half of the martini glass and drinks its contents. Then, in one smooth motion, she throws the remains of the glass across the room perfectly into the pub fireplace where the alcohol remnants cause a brief flicker of flame.
Arya: “Scrumdiddlyumptious, cheers, thanks”
Initially, I feel a bit frazzled with the experience. It and some of the other meals I have served seemed to have been hit or miss…… and by miss, I mean avoided entirely. But then, this is a reflection of my experience as a home chef. Beyond the whole, health and economic incentives of cooking for others is another factor which fuels us; Curiosity. We want to see if we can perform to a certain benchmark. We want to see if we can surprise our guests and in some cases, ourselves. There are times when I serve a meal to family or friends and while they are content, happy and sometimes euphoric, I can tell that I’ve missed the mark. I will taste and think to myself that had I salted the chicken breast 24 hours prior vs 6, that the flavor would have permeated to the core of the bite such that each chew rendered flavor more equally. Or how the texture and flavor in my apple tart would have been enhanced by par-cooking the apples before baking.
Beyond the whole, health and economic incentives of cooking for others is another factor which fuels us; Curiosity.
Like other hobbies, in order for us to achieve that sense of Flow, we must be practicing and performing on the edge of our capabilities. We must be curious and take risks in order to experience the fulfillment that comes with knowing we improving upon ourselves. The self of yesterday and our relative image of that persona must be incrementally tested in order for us to experience a sense of contentedness, however temporary that may be. When such beliefs and approaches are regularly executed, one tends to be more creative, kind and complete. Restful thoughts and sleep them seem to be more frequent and dynamic while mornings are laced with traces of desire and sprinkles of curiosity. Or, maybe that’s just me.
