Strider’s Snack

Astrid Tuttle Winegar

Author, Cooking for Halflings & Monsters: 111 Comfy, Cozy Recipes for Fantasy-Loving Souls

Astrid Tuttle Winegar is the author of Cooking for Halflings & Monsters: 111 Comfy, Cozy Recipes for Fantasy-Loving Souls, which was a finalist in the 2018 New Mexico/Arizona Book Awards. Astrid has been cooking, baking, and reading fantasy (and plenty of other literature!) for over 40 years. She has a bachelor’s degree in English and Latin and a master’s degree in Comparative Literature and Cultural Studies from the University of New Mexico. She has loved C. S. Lewis since childhood and J. R. R. Tolkien since middle and high school. She also loves all Star things, both Trek and Wars, all things Whedon, and many other things besides… She lives in the enchanted city of Albuquerque, New Mexico, with her husband; she is also a mother and a grandmother. Her most recent book is A Year of Comfy, Cozy Soups, Stews, and Chilis: Cooking for Halflings & Monsters, Volume 2.

For more information, go to astridwinegar.com.

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I’m going to be sharing some of the original recipes from my cookbook Astrid’s Modern Hobbit Recipes. This book was never published in this form, because the Tolkien Estate does not approve of “cookery books.” So, I rewrote the whole thing and it became Cooking for Halflings & Monsters: 111 Comfy, Cozy Recipes for Fantasy-Loving Souls. But I still have my unpublished text and I always relish the opportunity to revisit it.

This was from the chapter called “At the Sign of the Prancing Pony.” I introduced all the recipes here in the voice of Barliman Butterbur, as you will see below.

This lasts for 2-4 weeks and is a great snack to put out around the holiday season. If you need more spice, please feel free to double the amount of the garlic, cayenne, and pepper.

Strider’s Snack

(Remember, I’m Barliman Butterbur here…)

Well, before he became king down south, Strider, I mean, King Elessar, begging your pardon, gentlemen and ladies, would spend many a night reclining in a dark corner of the tavern. There, he’d sip an ale or maybe two—he was never one to drink too much, being rather a serious sort, and he always seemed to be on his guard—but he never failed to  . . .

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