The Frewyn Herald: Home of the Haanta Series

Maith Ailineighdaeth and Happy Frewyn New Year to all! There are many new books coming in the new year, including a new Baba story, a new Galleisian tale, and Martje's very own cookery book, replete with recipies (or receipts) from the castle keep. This is a book I've wanted to have done for sometime. The book will also include a few dishes from the northern continent and all the making methods. Below is one of the items in the book: Karnwyl peat cake, as explained by Martje: "Peat cake, or gurry cake as it's called in Westren and parts of Hallanys, ain't made with turf, though it might have more nutrition if it were. It does look like a guggin, though, when it's cut, but it don't taste half as bad as it looks. Sure looks like a bit 'o the mallacht, but if made right, has a lovely ginger taste and will keep you th'while. Traditionally, the outsiders are made from leftover ginger loaf, not sweet, 'cause they don't get much sugar in K

Nowadays, it is not everyone who is called upon to secure their own holiday dinner. We peruse the markets, choose a turkey or ham as we like, dress it and broil it and think nothing of it, but if we were made to garnish the table as it is done on the farms, very few of us would ever put a bird on the table again: E veryone assisted Searle and Aghatha in bringing the plates into the kitchen, Martje prepared and conveyed the tea trey upstairs, and Boudicca went to start the fire whilst everyone sat around the table, admiring the view from the window, the glumes and awns of the grass preceding the royal wood foretelling a frigid season, the night rime freezing over in a delicate sheen. Teacups furnished every hand, pipes were brought out, and the Tyfferim contingent loomed near the window, to enjoy their pipes for the five minutes the family would allow them to smoke them, effuming in flocculent clouds, making aspirate sighs over their work for the year being done-- excepting Locha

Frewyn is famous for its desserts: from honey sponge, to quiltcake, to tarts and pies, Frewyn are the resounding champions of afters, so much so that even the Gods will turn up at table if only to have a slice of something good giving away. T he splendour of the birthday continued: Vyrdin and Aldus sat in a corner, reveling in their private literary bliss, simpering at Professor Crulge’s commentary of NO! This is not a crustacean- it’s an invertebrate, you raging rawgabbit! written in the margins in furious griffonage; Draeden finished the last of the cake in joyous accubation, while Alasdair conceded to have some of the walnut and hazelnut paste Martje had leftover from the quiltcake cut and wrapped in the morning, his pleasure diminished by Aoidhe on one side and Bryeison the other, the former practicing vulgarity with Chune and the latter all stifled mirth over Alasdair’s agony about having to hear the God of Passion tell his eternal bride, “Aye, you’re ripe for the seaso