Thanksgiving Small Council: The Foods of Ice and Fire, a free-for-all

Today is Thanksgiving in the United States, and for many people, that means one thing: food. Good food, bad food, sweet food, savory food, spicy food, hearty food. You get the idea.

George R.R. Martin loves to write about food in his Song of Ice and Fire series, and is (in)famous for his detailed descriptions of meals. Which ones stand out to us? Any foods in Westeros that make our mouths water, or meals we wish we were a part of? How do Martin, Dan Weiss, and David Benioff use food to help tell their story, and what kind of feast would we put together for a band of Westerosi diners if we could?

Basically, if it’s about food, it’s fair game. Ready, set, food!

DAN: I’ll admit to not being a gourmand, but I enjoy myself a good meal. Even so, when reading the Song of Ice and Fire books, I routinely come across food terms I’ve never seen before. Capon. Trencher. Lamprey pie. How do you serve a saddle of something? Is sweetgrass different from normal grass? Am I supposed to already know these terms? Am I just not shopping in the right parts of the supermarket or is everyone else as baffled as I am?

Apart from expanding my vocabulary, what I like about Martin’s descriptions of food is that, more often than not, they serve a narrative purpose, rather than just being food porn for the sake of being food porn. Take the meager fair the Stark party has to eat at the Red Wedding in A Storm of Swords:

"The wedding feast began with a thin leek soup, followed by a salad of green beans, onions, and beets, river pike poached in almond milk, mounds of mashed turnips that were cold before they reached the table, jellied calves’ brains, and a leche of stringy beef. It was poor fare to set before a king, and the calves’ brains turned Catelyn’s stomach. Yet Robb ate it uncomplaining."

Yes, that’s a lot of words, but the point is that Walder Frey is purposefully serving the King in the North a ho-hum dinner — all thin and cold by the time it reaches the table — as a small act of discourtesy…all so he can distract from the rather larger act of discourtesy he has planned for later that night. And Robb scarfs it down, because he’s not here to make a ruckus.

See also the food Cersei serves the rest of the women in the Maidenvault during the siege of King’s Landing, which is “flavored with fear.” (I imagine pretty much every meal with Cersei involves fear.) Or how about the meal Sansa has with Joffrey on their way to King’s Landing?

"Snails in honey and garlic. Sansa had never eaten snails before; Joffrey showed her how to get the snail out of the shell, and fed her the first sweet morsel himself. Then came trout fresh from the river, baked in clay; her prince helped her crack open the hard casing to expose the flaky white flesh within."

It’s not just about eating; Joffrey is seducing Sansa, if that’s what you want to call it, by being so polite and cultured at table. There’s a narrative point here beyond what sometimes seems like windbaggery.

Also, it makes me hungry, excepting any mention of “bowls of brown.” Are any three words in the English language less appetizing?

RAZOR: Ah, yes. Nothing makes me throw up in my mouth faster than when “bowl of brown” is mentioned with some sort of fondness, inexplicably, from characters who grew up in the Flea Bottom quarter of King’s Landing.

Of course, I’ve never had to live on the streets and kill pigeons for dinner or beg for every scrap and stale breadcrumb falling from a baker’s cart, so I suppose I can’t unequivocally say I wouldn’t at least be tempted to test the brown, but I think I would sooner murder someone and eat their corpse like a ravenous wight than ever press a bowl of that swirling miasma of diseased muddy water to my lips.

Now, give me some “great loaves of brown bread, mounds of turnips and sweetcorn and pease, immense hams and roast geese and trenchers dripping full of venison stewed with beer and barley,” for the main course, with trays of “cream swans and spun-sugar unicorns, lemon cakes in the shape of roses, spiced honey biscuits and blackberry tarts, apple crisps and wheels of buttery cheese,” for dessert, and I’m your guy. (Renly’s tournament feast from A Clash of Kings.)

COREY: More than any other author I can personally recall, Martin appears obsessed with food. Virtually no meal throughout his five novels is not described in enough detail to make you hungry. I would not be surprised to find out the word “trencher” appears more times in his work than say, “Valyrian steel.” Along with what every character’s outfit, large portions of each chapter are devoted to the small details.

As to what foods I would love to serve from the books, I can honestly say that I have served more than a few of them. Although not hunted in the same style as the books (using spears or bows), many of the meats I serve are harvested by myself or family. And yet, despite all the fresh meat options, I tend to lean towards beer bread. One of Martin’s most repeated phrases is “warm bread, fresh from the kitchens,” and I’m guessing that’s no accident. I assume Martin to be a big fan of fresh baked bread like myself, despite its consequences. 

Fresh-baked beer bread can be a lot of fun to make, and virtually any grocery store has easy to bake kits. Each loaf requires a 12 oz beer, but the best part is, you choose the beer. That means you can make several different loaves, each with a distinct flavor. Pulling apart warm bread, fresh from my modern day oven, is my first choice.

A close second would be drinking like the characters of Westeros. Martin rarely describes a character as drinking water, but everything from rum to ale to hippocras is mentioned. The latter is a type of sweetened wine, only consumed by Roose Bolton in the books. The people in my family are big drinkers, and as the most common type of beer, ale is easy to come by. A bottle shared after dinner is not out of the question, and this year I’ll be bringing along a Game of Thrones beer or two. Is that too obvious? Just don’t drink it straight out of a jug like they do in Martin’s novels. Tried that once, and barely lived to regret it.

RICHARD: A Thenn, a Thenn, my Thanksgiving for a Thenn! We haven’t yet touched upon the cannibalistic elements of Westerosi culture, so allow me to indulge. What would a Thenn prefer for his/her Thanksgiving feast? Well, I don’t know if turkeys actually exist in Westeros, but it wouldn’t matter to a Thenn, who would prefer a nicely fattened-up Lannister noble or well-muscled wildling, or, in a pinch, a scrawny, somewhat odiferous brother of the Night’s Watch.

Let’s say this year it’s a wildling, captured in his attempt to run south of the Wall. Odds are the meat has already been tenderized in the capture and resulting playtime torture, so now it’s time for the traditional stuffing: cider-soaked black bread, spiced with acorn paste and apples, followed by an entire haunch of goat (or the leftovers from the previous night’s feast of Night’s Watch ranger) slathered with rabbit’s blood and onion root for flavor.

Set the bonfire to approximately 400 degrees over a one-meter high spit, impale the body, position over the flames and rotate constantly to get an even temperature and golden browning of the meat. Well-done, crispy edges are preferable. Cooking should take 120 minutes, or 150 for a well-done wildling (times will vary depending on the robustness and marbling of the meat). Once done, detach or carve pieces as desired, and wash it down with immense amounts of cider.

Or, if the Thenn is in a rush, he/she is perfectly happy to eat everything raw.

SEBASTIAN: This being the first time I show up here, is there a better context to get to know each other than at a table laden with vast quantities of Thanksgiving dishes? (Not that I would know. Here in Germany we only have “Erntedankfest.” It’s Thanksgiving for kindergarten children without the gluttony and overall rather lame.) Anyway, thanks for having me!

When I think of food in A Song of Ice and Fire, the first thing that comes to mind is honeyed locusts or “Honey-Spiced Locusts” as they appear in A Feast of Ice and Fire. My girlfriend and I have always wanted to try them, but havenʼt actually tried them yet. Is it because of fear of being poisoned? I have to disappoint you here: no. We havenʼt tried it because it has proven not as easy as we would have thought to buy locusts suited for human consumption round these parts. What a boring reason to miss out on a chance to honor one of my favorite characters from ASoIaF missing from AOIAF: Strong Belwas!

I am sure heʼs a man who would cherish Thanksgiving. In the absence of honeyed locusts or any kind of Thanksgiving dinner, I raise my glass to the undefeated king of the fighting pits, the defiler of Oznak zo Pahlʼs corpse, the devourer of swarms! Cheers!

Happy Thanksgiving!