The Frewyn Herald: Home of the Haanta Series

Frewyn butter biscuits and burls: A National Treasure Baronous on butter biscuits : Only a kingdom that thrives on how many pounds of butter it produces   would think to make biscuits from butter alone. It is an art really, a something like magic which graces each kitchen and greases each pan. I have no other explanation as to how every Frewyn household is able to turn their butter into dinner and dessert. In Marridon we have biscuits enough, but butter in Marridon is an ingredient, not a reason. We use it an accent rather than a feature, but as I have previously stated, butter is the gold standard in the kingdom, and where the Empire shines in other lights, the aurulent haze of well-loved ovens and well-lined skillets will always belong to our cousins to the south. That is not to say Marridon has no idea what to do with butter: on the contrary, Marridon’s tea culture is well documented, and though we are the standing champions of biscuits and buns, when there is anything like bu

The Ailineighdaeth Carol : Ailineighdaeth has many songs associated with it, but one in particular is sung at midnight on the 23 rd , to usher in the full Ailineighdaeth season. It was written by Baronous Hodge, which is why it’s written in Common and not Auld Fremhin, a carol that follows more of the Marridon tradition of choir singing rather than solo singing. The legend of the song is that Baronous Hodge wrote it upon seeing his first Ailineighdaeth and his first real winter in Frewyn. He marveled at how the whole country seemed to slumber, the snow fell in heaps, farmers finished their work, and everyone seemed to prepare for their weeks lying in, pies were baked, firewood was got, cider was mulled, and the darkest time of the year gave way to merrymaking, homemade gifts were exchanged and feasts were set down, and high revel and good cheer reigned over the kingdom. Baronous immensely enjoyed his first holiday in Frewyn, so much so that Ailienghdaeth became his favourite time o

Baronous Hodge on stews in Frewyn : Stew is the national winter food in Frewyn. For a country that has winter six months of the year, it finds a way to creatively and successfully combine two of its most ubiquitous and beloved foods: soup and meat--potatoes being a close third, if cabbage is not around to defend its honour. That is not to say we do not triumph in a good stew in Marridon, but our winters are more damp than they are niveous, and soups and stews, unless a potage with expensive ingredients, are associated with the poor and therefore hardly make it to the menu of most eateries and cafes, though they steam from every cauldron in the country. Country people understand the value of nutrition over the fits of flavour, and as Frewyn is a whole kingdom of farmfolk who will eat anything given to them after an arduous day in the fields, they know exactly how to be happy: well cured meats, well fired potatoes, and a little posset or mead to soothe the senses. If you ever want to

Peat Cake: a Southern Institution Baronous Hodge on peat cake : Food in the south of Frewyn, much like the food of Westren, is sometimes an odd thing. It is no less expert than the food belonging to the rest of the kingdom; it only champions on a different set of rules: ‘It doesn’t have to look right. It just has to taste good’ was the description I was given upon seeing my first piece of what they call peat cake. It is neither peat nor cake really. It is more like a choking hazard wrapped in sugar, an accident waiting to happen in the throat of the unsuspecting foreigner, a regional lark played upon those who are only too willing to try the most misshapen dessert in history, one which all those in the designs laugh at. Peat cake is the closest thing Frewyn can have as a national disaster-- it is a carriage wreck in a tar pit, it is a dish that gave up on itself half way through being made, it is affront to almost every sense excepting taste, and yet Frewyners in the south c