A celebration of FANTASY FOOD

[Jackarandajam]

The Ogre's shadow fell over the prostrate soldier, its crooked eyes fixed on the back of his helmet.
With a heaving breath and a roar, the ogre swung the huge hammer up, around, and furiously down.

...

The apple's wet crunch turned heads in the subdued little outdoor restaurant, and DiCraw smiled as he dabbed the juice of the first bite from his pointed beard. Big, juicy, and crisp; the season of perfect apples had arrived. He nodded politely to the few staring patrons and took another wide-mouthed bite, savoring the layered sensation of nearly a quarter of the apple loudly snapping away from the core. He chewed theatrically with his eyes closed, swallowed, and licked his lips.

 

[JessMahler]

I didn't realize it before, but I almost never use food in my stories. Gonna need to correct that, bc food makes for some great scene setting and world building.

 

[Jackarandajam]

Damon stared at her a moment from the chair, then sighed.
"I'm not sure if this is going to go... how you think it's going to go," He muttered, "It's been a long day."
He groaned as he stood and carefully peeled out of his sweaty, blood-stained undershirt, hissing when the motion stretched a fresh scab running down the back of his upper arm.
Dornia took his bruised hand in both of hers.
"I'm willing to find out," she said softly, grinning and biting her lip. She was so bursting with energy that Damon had to smile a little.
Still clutching his big hand in one of hers she turned, led him into the bedroom, and firmly closed the door behind them.
---
Vayni dangled a noodle from her fingers and made it wiggle, glancing at her young apprentice.
"You can tell they're done by the way they hang, see?"
Her apprentice nodded, eyes fixed on limp noodle Vayni was still making dance. Finally Vayni, realizing the noodle's point had been made, tossed it in her mouth, picked another out for her apprentice, and pulled the pot from the stove. She paused at the sink.
"Don't know why I'm spending all the time I am on this," she said, looking down into the pot and frowning, "I doubt anybody's coming tonight anyway."



I'm guilty of nothing.

 

[A. E. Lowan]

Interesting random, slightly connected thought:
As much food as was in Tolkiens books to begin with, every instance of food Jackson ADDED to the script had negative, ominous connotation:

1. Aforementioned cannibalism
2. The famous cherry tomatoes
3. Himself being creepy with a raw carrot

Tolkien himself, other than mentioning the nasty orc draft and a general exhaustion with elven hardtack, didn't ever use food in this way.

It makes me want to experiment with writing out the denethor meal scene and see if I can get it to showcase the same horror that it did in the visual medium.

Having a character eating something that induces a cringe from the reader, based on the reader mentally drawing a line between it and something going on in the story, would be a very cool and pretty fancy trick.

EDIT: Particularly if the food is something otherwise nondescript. The trick would be better as a sinister wink than an on-the-nose gross factor.

Funny you should mention... This is from our second book, Ties of Blood and Bone. Going into the scene you only need to know that Alerich's family serves a powerful Demon Lord and that demons eat people, bones and all.

~~

Alerich surveyed the table, looking impressed… and something else that Winter could not put her finger on. A bit stiff, perhaps. Slightly distracted. “You did this all yourself, then? It’s beautiful.”

Winter smiled, trying to figure out what was amiss. “Cian and Jessie helped me. Etienne mostly asked why we weren’t eating in the kitchen. And Noel provided adorableness, as always.”

Alerich took the indicated seat. “The baby?” He smiled, relaxing a little into the subject. “They’re precious. How old are they?”

“He was two weeks, yesterday.” Winter set about serving, slicing the aromatic pork roast and giving Alerich a thick, barely pink slice glistening with rich juices.

Alerich’s jaw tightened and she watched him forcibly relax it.

Winter kept her eyes on Alerich as she continued to serve the meal, reading his body language. “Noel is technically Etienne’s nephew, though we’ve adopted him as our own, the three of us.” She smiled. “We’re a curious little family, but that is what we are.”

Alerich looked up from his discomfort and returned her smile. “I’ve always believed that we forge tighter bonds with the family we find than with those we’re born to.” He glanced down at the roast. “My father and I are not on good terms,” his eyes found her again, “but I have friends I would die for.”

Winter nodded, understanding. “I was mostly raised by Erik Eriksson and his vampires. He stepped in as my father when my father couldn’t—or wouldn’t. Erik likes to say, ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’ And I believe it’s true.”

Alerich glanced back down at his plate and his smile became strained. He picked up his silverware. “This looks amazing.”

And she could sense the lie. Winter reached over and laid her hands over his, her expression gentle. “No, it doesn’t.” She took the knife and fork and laid them back down. “Let’s start over. How does a fresh salad sound? We can get a bottle of wine and I believe I still have a loaf of bread left over from this morning’s baking.”

Alerich looked ready to protest out of politeness and then his eyes found the roast and he looked at her, a little embarrassed. “That sounds wonderful. But really, you needn’t go to all the trouble.”

Winter smiled. “It’s my pleasure. Come, let me be a good hostess and find you something you’ll like.”

 

[jackwilson]

I haven't really thought that much about food, but will now reconsider. Also, I'd like me some of the fruit beers they have in my stories. Some are magically enhanced and even get the more powerful tipsy.

 

[A. E. Lowan]

I haven't really thought that much about food, but will now reconsider. Also, I'd like me some of the fruit beers they have in my stories. Some are magically enhanced and even get the more powerful tipsy.

Two words. Orgasm. Brownies.

Welcome to Seahaven.

 

[pmmg]

What....brownies too? Was more needed?

 

[A. E. Lowan]

What....brownies too? Was more needed?

With food, as with any good hedonism, more is always required.

 

[ThinkerX]

Food crops up fairly often in my stories, as do feasts. Tia attends the Solstice Ball in 'Empire: Capital' -

With Morgan seated, the herald announced the start of the feast proper.

The first course arrived on wheeled silver carts: a rich mixed salad of cucumbers and greens topped with spicy sauce. Tia poked at the confection. Peter devoured both their portions.

A tall, thin apparition with a white face and long frizzled hair appeared on the table's far side, clad in a tight outfit of brightly colored triangles.

Tia reared back in shock before realizing the figure was a jester.

The entertainer leaned across the table. Tia felt a liquid coldness on her hairline. The interloper pulled back, produced a spoon from behind Peter’s ears, and then snatched his goblet. When Peter reached for the cup, the jester gave an impish smile and hurled it at the ceiling along with a spoon and a small dish. The flying objects dropped downward, only to be flicked into the air one after the other.

Peter watched the jester move to another table. “Damn. I wasn’t through drinking.”

Tia faced Peter. “Look at me.”

“Huh?”

“Is there anything on my forehead?” Tia motioned at the spot where the entertainer had kissed her. The thought of being marked like that for the evening mortified her.

“No.” Peter squinted. “Wait. I do see something.” He grabbed a napkin and dabbed it against Tia’s head. “There. That got it.”

More carts arrived, each bearing stout silver cauldrons and stacks of round bowls. White-clad servitors filled these containers with a thick creamy soup that brimmed with vegetables and bits of meat, placing them before the diners.

The contents of Tia’s bowl smelled delicious. She placed a tiny spoonful in her mouth: spicy, sweet, and smooth. Her portion vanished in short order.

“Damn, but that was tasty.” Peter patted his gut. Then he blinked. “Isn’t that fellow on fire?”

Tia's eyes followed Peter’s finger. Sure enough, one of the waiters was hopping from foot to foot, as smoke and fiery tongues came from his sleeves. A female servant approached, wagged a finger at the man, grabbed his wrist, and extracted a lit torch. “Now, put that out,” she demanded in a voice that carried across the hall. The man stared at her, shrugged, and swallowed the brand.

Tia’s view of the Imperial Dais was blocked by a server bearing a large platter of spiced meat. The woman set tiny plates before the pair, each with just a couple of strips. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Tia took an experimental nibble. Her mouth exploded. But while ‘hot,’ the strips were quite tasty.

The ambient music shifted to a more strident tone. Cheers and catcalls came from opposite sides of the Hall. A moment later, a mob of youths in gold outfits stormed past, armed with brooms, candlesticks, and belts. They violently collided with another band wearing silver in the room’s center.

“The Pages War.” Peter viewed the conflict with interest. “That black-haired one’s especially talented.” The youth had already bested three foes.

“What if the fight gets out of hand?” Immediately after the words left Tia’s mouth a knot of five or six combatants plowed into Lord Allergan’s table, upending it, and splattering him with soup.

Tia put a hand to her mouth and repressed a giggle.

Hugh climbed to his feet in a rage, sending both factions scurrying. The armored fist of a palace guard kept him from pursuing the miscreants.

Mock Battle over, the music shifted to a long classical strain.

More dishes followed: portions of pasta and pies, slivers of fish, and platters of spicy vegetables. Then a wave of servants swept along the tables, gathering up empty crockery and leaving small baskets of treats.

In Empire: Metropolis, Peter attends a wedding feast:

The brides and grooms migrated with their close kin to an elevated banquet table overlooking the immense ‘U’ shaped bar where those of lesser status dined.

“It’s about time,” said Pomeroy as he started for the table. “I’m famished.”

Peter's stomach agreed with his comrade's statement. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

Peter’s seat was almost at the ‘U’s’ tip, giving him an excellent view of those on the stage and the estate's entrance. The knight stared in confoundment at the assorted plates and serving implements, desperately hoping he’d remember to choose the correct fork or cup. He sorely, desperately missed Tia.

I should be scouring the city for her, not here.

Servers raced around the table with laden carts for the first course as tumblers somersaulted their way to the ‘U’s center. A tiny plate of greens appeared before Peter. He glanced at his neighbors to see what tong they employed. No luck. Half ignored the offering altogether, and the rest grabbed implements at random. So be it. He hefted a fork. Five bites and the salad vanished.

Next up was a lumpy soup, accompanied by a comic skit. Peter couldn’t name half the bits floating in the liquid, but the whole was tasty. He wished for seconds.

The play reached its ludicrous climax as the next course arrived: tiny buns stuffed with bits of chopped meat, one per guest. Peter’s vanished in two bites. It seemed dry.

The waitstaff reappeared bearing tiny copper goblets filled with spiced ale, a delicacy from the Avar lands. Peter drooled at the aroma, gulped it down quickly, then almost snorted the fluid through his nostrils at the skit’s (almost) obscene conclusion. Several others spat or spilled their drinks. Iona laughed herself silly and tossed a fat purse at the performers.

Motion and raised voices drew Peter’s eye to a spat at the festivities edge, where Granicus argued with a colorfully dressed girl holding a lyre. The woman made Peter think of Tia, but then she turned, and he recognized her. “Rebecca.” Peter sighed, flagged down a servant, and sent him out to the steward. Damn gypsy wench. She was supposed to have checked in yesterday.

The next event involved poodles jumping through hoops. Peter didn’t know the accompanying dish: hard lumps of something slathered in thick gravy. One bite was all he could stomach.

Rebecca took the stage in conjunction with a fruit medley, working her way through three lively Rover tunes that had the entire table tapping their feet in rhythm. Dancers in flowing skirts joined her as the servers brought out wine and trays of thin-sliced bread topped with a spicy paste of meat and herbs. Peter enjoyed both the food and entertainment. Then both were done, and he found himself wondering why Rebecca reminded him so strongly of Tia. Had Rebecca done something with her hair?

More food and more entertainment: miniature steaks and a sweet pudding accompanied by an epic ballad performed by a copper bearded man in a green robe, followed by slivers of fish in a fiery sauce while limber entertainers in checked outfits tossed silverware and crystal cups in intricate patterns with nary a mistake.

Peter gulped the wine to extinguish the fire in his throat and leaned back. A new commotion made him glance at the gate. He sat straight at the sight of Kyle, clad in that absurd blue coachman’s jacket, looming over Granicus’s undersized form.

The big man presented the exasperated Granicus with a scroll tube.

Granicus took the scroll tube, popped it open, and scanned its contents. The dwarf visibly paled, swallowed, and spoke words into the ear of Patriarch Bestia. That worthy, in turn, spat a goblet of red wine across his food and motioned at Lord Mayor Arthur DuMars. Every eye on the table watched as the trio vanished into the manor's interior. Nobody paid attention to the next course. {quote]

 

[Prince of Spires]

Two words. Orgasm. Brownies.

Sounds like something you'd find in Amsterdam...

Seahaven really is a wonderful, multicultural place. Shame half the population tries to eat you. Though now that I think about it, there's a tale in there, where Seahaven is turned into a tourist trap, where all the humans come to gawk at the weird and wonderful therianthropes, all the while eating funny brownies.

I can picture Erik Eriksson throw up his hands in despair that their whole way of life is ruined and complain that he can't dine on all the tourists because it's bad for business and everyone would come to complain to him.

I know it doesn't fit into the Books of Binding setting or tone, but man that would be a funny setting, where the Urban Fantasy veil hiding the magic users disappeared and now humans are like "HOLIDAY DESTINATION! Let's look at the weird locals!"

 

[A. E. Lowan]

Sounds like something you'd find in Amsterdam...

Seahaven really is a wonderful, multicultural place. Shame half the population tries to eat you. Though now that I think about it, there's a tale in there, where Seahaven is turned into a tourist trap, where all the humans come to gawk at the weird and wonderful therianthropes, all the while eating funny brownies.

I can picture Erik Eriksson throw up his hands in despair that their whole way of life is ruined and complain that he can't dine on all the tourists because it's bad for business and everyone would come to complain to him.

I know it doesn't fit into the Books of Binding setting or tone, but man that would be a funny setting, where the Urban Fantasy veil hiding the magic users disappeared and now humans are like "HOLIDAY DESTINATION! Let's look at the weird locals!"

I think it's hilarious and I love it. And I do think it's in keeping, at least with our warped sense of humor. I grew up with medical humor and hospital stories at the table. Having therian as a tourist attraction that occasionally eat the guests is perfect. It's also giving me strong Robert Asprin vibes https://www.amazon.com/Another-Fine-Myth-Conceptions-ebook/dp/B0CBQQVJBP/ with a definite mix of Tanya Huff (I want to be her when I grow up. Her dialogue and humor are way too good!) https://www.amazon.com/Complete-Keeper-Chronicles-Tanya-Huff/dp/0756407885/

 

[_Michael_]

I know, I'm probably late to the party, but I figured I'd put my two cents in.

Wheel of Time and Dragonlance had the right of it--especially when it came to the background details. Make foods regional, and give them clever names. Drop them in the background. Oh, your player is looking for some quality beef? How about some Red Hills heifers, grown by hill dwarves and cured to savory perfection? Your players are looking for a quality mead instead of the usual swill? How about Rumblebump mead? Instead of hamburgers and sausage, how about savory Three Kings ranch beefsteaks? Then, actually drop their farms on the map and when your players have completely forgotten about it, and they're on their way back into town, mention how they pass by one of the Three Kings ranches and see the three crown brand symbol on the sign above the gate? "Oh, yeah! I totally forgot about those!"


Guaranteed to add depth and flavor to your game. (See what I did there?)

 

[pmmg]

This makes me sad. Something like pemmican could be eaten in a colder climate, especially if it is much like the North America. It’s basically real life lembas bread, but better.

Just a follow up, but food came up in the story, and while I did not use pemmican directly, what I described it as would strongly resemble it

And along the lines of learning something new everyday, I always took as a given that 'iron rations' were a thing, but I discovered they were just made up by TSR, and Gygax based them on supplies used in WW1. Shame on him. I thought he did real research on it No more Iron rations for me...though, I dont think I used it anyway.

(Though it probably says a bit about how important food is to me that it only took 50 years to find that out )

 

[_Michael_]

I just figured iron rations were dry, terrible-tasting MREs that only a dwarf had teeth strong enough to tear through and had to be cooked in stew to make edible (with the addition of some tasty owl bear stew meat, of course!). Either that, or some perverse practical joke on humans made by gnomes who put a pinch of iron dust in each pack of iron rations so they could advertise, "Now with 25% more iron!" for the diet-conscious players seeking more healthy alternatives to bushmeat like gnoll flesh or roast basilisk (seriously, put that haunch of kobold away) one might be forced to eat in a pinch.

 

[pmmg]

I am not what I assumed. I guess I always imagined something dried and thick, maybe with a metallic taste to it. It never really came up other than it was in the list of items an adventurer could buy.

 

[Jackarandajam]

Was watching Kong: Skull Island, they 100% did the "monster closing jaws/cut scene to someone taking a bite of a sandwich" thing. I was grossed out, it was quite effective.

 

[Prince of Spires]

Either that, or some perverse practical joke on humans made by gnomes who put a pinch of iron dust in each pack of iron rations so they could advertise, "Now with 25% more iron!"

You say that in jest, but here in the Netherlands at least (and I'm assuming it has happened elsewhere as well), we've had breakfast cereal companies do exactly this. You could buy breakfast cereals with extra iron added in, and it was exactly that. They literally added in iron dust. It's harmless to a human, it's also completely pointless, since a human body can't absorb this iron. They stopped once they were found out and clips surfaced of people swirling around their cereals using a magnet...

 

[_Michael_]

You say that in jest, but here in the Netherlands at least (and I'm assuming it has happened elsewhere as well), we've had breakfast cereal companies do exactly this. You could buy breakfast cereals with extra iron added in, and it was exactly that. They literally added in iron dust. It's harmless to a human, it's also completely pointless, since a human body can't absorb this iron. They stopped once they were found out and clips surfaced of people swirling around their cereals using a magnet...

That is hilarious. Remember Wonderbread doing the same in the US back in the 70s by adding actual sawdust to the bread? "Now with added fiber!" Hahahaha!

Reminds me of that old joke. A young girl asked her grandmother what she must do to live to a ripe old age. The grandmother replied that she should put a pinch of gunpowder in her oatmeal every morning. So the young girl did just that, eating it every day of her life religiously. She lived to be 103, and left behind 28 children, 34 grand children, 45 great grandchildren...and a forty foot hole where the crematorium used to be.

 

[Jackarandajam]

I don't know how many here have read The Lies of Locke Lamora, but the food and mixed drinks in that one are pretty impressive.

 

[Prince of Spires]

I loved Lies of Locke Lamora, though I don't specifically remember the food and drinks. But the setting did feel amazing and lived in, and I'm sure these sort of details played a part in that. The book itself was one of those that reminded me why I love Fantasy. I can heartily recommend it.