I’ve been thinking a lot about the process that I use to make fictional foodstuffs into real recipes for use in real kitchens. I often joke in interviews that I employ a “fictional locavore” approach when deciding how to make a dish, but that’s not far from the truth. I try to take into consideration factors such as culture, geography, climate, expense, aesthetic, etc. Most of this is sort of intuitive for me, depending on how much source material I have to work with, but when I get a little stuck, it’s helpful to consider these factors to understand the food’s role in a particular setting. It’s a method I use not only for the making of the food, but how I stage and photograph it- more on that later…

Here’s what I currently have for a breakdown so far:

Necessity
      Cost
      Environment

Logistics
      Transportation
      Setting? Equipment?

Culture
      Aesthetics
      History/Tradition

Necessity –  this is perhaps the largest factor that goes into food consideration, yet it isn’t only that food is necessary for survival. Food can also be a luxury item, dependent on cost. For Westerosi peasants or the chronically poor in the underbelly of a futuristic sci fi city, food is generally a matter of survival, not pleasure. Everyone must eat to survive, but the wealthy in any fictional setting can enjoy a much higher standard of cuisine than those who scrabble together a living day by day.

Environment often plays a large role in the necessity of a food as well, as certain tasks and environments necessitate certain foods. Imperial Storm troopers and rebel soldiers alike- indeed all soldiers, in any setting- need access to high protein foods that are easily carried.. The variety of foodstuffs available in a desert region like Dorne will be very different from the abundant crops and plants grown somewhere like The Reach. In a place with little moisture, or unpredictable access to oases, even something as offbeat as fermented mare’s milk becomes desirable.

Curiously, the limitations of geography can be overcome by those who are able to pay the cost, making for an interesting balance between the two factors.

Logistics – The making of different foods can often be complicated by the ability to obtain and make it, as well as to transport it, if need be. An evil galactic empire, for example, would excel at moving things from one place to another, so they have ample food for their troops. The further an ingredient has to travel, the more costly it becomes. The Dunmer ranging far from Morrowind might crave kwama eggs, but if they can’t afford the cost of purchasing one, might have to make do with locally available chicken eggs, rather than those from their home.

The logistics of food production and consumption are mitigated yet again by the setting in which the food is found. A lavish welcome feast for a visiting ambassador will have considerably different foods than one might find on the Millenium Falcon, for example. The feast can be prepared in full sized kitchens by a multitude of staff with access to a variety of ingredients, while food upon the famous Corellian freighter must be stored for long voyages, prepared in the small ship’s galley, and likely doesn’t include much variety.

Culture – Finally, each recipe is shaped by the culture of those who make, sell, trade, purchase, or eat it. This is most easily recognized in the aesthetics of the dish- how it is presented and eaten. This ties in with the setting and equipment limitations, as above, but a culture that values beautiful food would find a way to make a dish appealing no matter the circumstances. Think of the marvelous sculpted cakes and pastries from the Gentlemen Bastards series, or the elaborate pigeon pie from Joffrey’s wedding feast.

History/Tradition also plays a cultural role in the preparing and enjoying of foods. The Bosmer of Elder Scroll’s Tamriel have a religious belief that prevents them from harming any plant in their home forest, which means that they are consummate carnivores. Conversely, Haviland Tuf, despite having access to infinite cloning capabilities, varies only the types of mushrooms he includes in his vegetarian meals. This form of culture can also be reflected in a dish with an unconventional ingredient, if that ingredient is a rare and valued part of that society’s culture (Scandinavian cloudberries come to mind).

There you have it, in a rather sizable nutshell. :) Whaddaya think?

I have a confession:

I am heartily addicted to attending auctions.

And not necessarily to buy anything. Honest. In a large part, I just love the frenetic atmosphere, the social buzz of congratulations and irritation, and the calculated bidding of long-time pros. I’ve learned the all-important lesson that nearly every piece of beautiful old furniture, while unique, is not the only lovely piece that will ever sell at a great price.

That said, every now and then I find an item that is just fantastic, and truly rare. In this case, it was a pastry jagger, probably from the early to mid 19th century.

Now what, you might ask, is a pastry jagger? It’s essentially a historical kitchen unitasker, meant for cutting pastry dough with its wheeled end, and poking holes in it with the (sometimes) tined end. I had only recently learned about these implements, so when I saw one at the auction, I knew I had to try to get it. I stealthily built a box lot (totally allowed at this auction) of Pyrex, assorted dishes that looked boring and valueless, and the pastry jagger in a baggie with a couple of clay pipes. Fortunately, the auctioneer didn’t list my top pick when enumerating the contents of the box, so there was next to no competition for it. The fellow sitting behind me was very surprised when I pulled this out of my box of loot, and declared it a “great buy”, a high commendation from one auction-goer to another.

Anyhow, I thought it was just a delightful little thing, and wanted to share a few pictures with you!