[Ansteorra] Battlefield Bakery Cookbook

Robert G. Ferrell rgferrell at gmail.com
Sun Aug 22 07:34:58 PDT 2010

On 8/22/2010 2:41 AM, Stefan li Rous wrote:
> This is from another list. I'm not sure how many folks here might have been to Pennsic when this cook shop was active, but I have heard mention of it, even though it predates my first trip to Pennsic, Pennsic 21.
> Stefan
> -----------
> Several of you have asked me when the cookbook Marian Walke (aka Marian 
> of Edwinstowe, aka Old Marian) and I wrote together would be available. 
> This cookbook contains remembrances and recipes from the two cook shops 
> Marian and I participated in at the Pennsic Wars. I am very happy to 
> announce that two versions (one with black and white inner pages, one 
> with color inner pages) of the War Fare cookbook are now available. To 
> find out more information, please visit http://www.layerfivegroup.com/. 
> You can buy copies from there, or directly from 
> http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/war-fare/12289615 for the black 
> and white one, and 
> http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/war-fare-commemorative-edition/12289529 
> for the color one.

For those of you who didn't know her or her Battlefield Bakery, Mistress
Marian passed from this life on 12 May 2010.  For years she camped with
McGuire's Marauders adjacent to Ansteorra Royal at Pennsic and made us,
among other delicacies, the world's best scones. Here is the remembrance
I posted to her Carolingian Memorial at


"As a foreigner to Carolingia I knew Marian only from Pennsic. She was
wise beyond all reckoning. Her wit and wordcraft were fires to warm my
soul by, welcoming me back to camp after a long day's labors or a long
evening's mirth. Her accumulated knowledge flowed forth, a fount to
great and green alike, without any preference to station. Truly, she
was, she is forever, a sparkling gem in the glorious crown of humanity.
More than anything, though, I will remember her scones. I smell them, or
rather poor imitations of them, in every redolent whiff from a passing
bakery. Their warm, buttery, flaky goodness in my mouth figures
prominently in every dream of Elysium. Watching her make them, reveling
as the ovens worked their elfin magic, then pausing a moment to soak in
the majesty of it all before that first bite: this, above all else, is
what convinced me that I was in the presence of greatness, of a favored
soul blessed by Providence. Marian, you are not gone."

With fond memories forever etched,


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