“Things Every Southern Woman Should Know How to Make”

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Alice clicked on the headline, mildly curious about what yet another stranger thought should be in her kitchen repertoire. Pictures of China plates mounded with crispy fried chicken, greens, cobbler, and a pile of biscuits a mile high flooded the screen, all set off with a pitcher of sweet tea beaded with condensation. The table was set; an apron draped off to the side next to a box labeled “Gramma’s Recipes” in fine calligraphy. She closed the browser and put away her tablet. She was born a Georgia peach, but she couldn’t make a cobbler to save her life. Did that mean she wasn’t southern? Or maybe just not “Southern.” For Alice, there was no recipe box full of family traditions. Her younger years were filled with rental homes in different states and her father’s voice coaxing her toward a text book rather than a cookbook. Metalworking and fabrication held more interest than learning to flambé or sauté. Did it make her less of a woman that her cooking skills consisted of fresh salads...
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TV Rambles: Game of Thrones


::DUDE. SPOILERS:: If you haven’t watched this series—or the last episode—and you don’t want to ruin it, then turn away now! You’ve been warned.

 

Still, here? Okay.

 
 
 
 

 

The Song of Ice and Fire series by George R R Martin was turned into one badass HBO series. Now in its third season, Game of Thrones never ceases to awe me—and piss me off. The screen writers have done a hellacious job adapting Martin’s magnificent fantasy world to the television. With all the complexities of the novels, they’ve stayed on point. For that, I say thank you and offer a standing ovation.

Back to the show. Game of Thrones throws me into a full-out tantrum about every third episode. People I like—animals I want to snuggle—DIE all the time. From honorable Ned Stark’s untimely head-lobbing to poor Robb’s butchering, they all make me want to throttle someone. (Looking at you, Roose Bolton. Bastard.)

If you want to live, don’t be a Stark.

The last episode has raised a lot of ruckus. Emotional and gruesome. Yes, it was gruesome, namely the murdering of Robb’s wife. But amongst all the carnage, there was one thing left out: Catelyn Stark’s reaction to the death of her eldest son. I imagine they thought it would be too horrible to air. (I have another theory, but it’s too spoilery to put here.) But the raw impact of Lady Stark’s drop into madness doesn’t quite come across as well as it did in the book. In the novel, she claws her eyes out. *shudder* Slitting her throat at that point becomes a mercy, really.

To be honest, I was slightly disappointed when she just stood there. It’s not that I wanted to see blood, but Lady Stark’s final snap was what finally made me feel hardcore for her. I never particularly liked her, but in that moment, she had me.

On the other hand, I felt more for Robb, so it sort of balances out. Again, kudos screenwriters. Keep up the awesome.

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