by Shavira
The Nutmeg’s Spring Menu –
Our Spice is a special mixture of nutmeg and seven other exotic spices, carefully mixed in exact proportions to leave you with a flavour you’ll never forget. Sorry, we can’t sell it except in our meals. And don’t even think of asking for the recipe – it’s a secret we’d rather die for than divulge!
Drinks-
Steaming Chocolate- topped with vanilla cream and sprinkled with Spice.
Vanilla Lace- garnished with a violet sugar cane and Spiced Timas.
Cinnamon tea
Spiced tea
Turmijaan spring water, sourced in Rajamoon province, Japura
Fresh rose-infused cream
Offerings-
The Grotto – A light-grained bun, toasted, with layers of smoked ham, fresh apple, and surrat cheese, graced with a mild shalem and honey sauce. Sided with fresh greens tossed in vinegar, and a Spiced applesauce.
Wistful Dreams – A fork-tender cut of pork, glazed in a honey sauce with hints of orange and cherry, and topped with baby carrots carefully boiled in Spiced water and dipped in sweet butter. Two pumpkin slices, drizzled with a mixture of Spice, sugar, molasses, and butter, complement the meal.
Nightshade – Two fresh tomatoes, carefully baked after being stuffed with a mixture of wild mushrooms, rice, diced leek, and bacon. On the side you’ll find a cheese biscuit served with freshly churned butter.
Desserts –
Apple Tart - Baked, Spice-glazed whole apple in a light, sweet pastry, drizzled with a vanilla and burnt sugar sauce.
Timas – Four of our famous timas- crispy baked shortbread sticks dipped in Lolita’s chocolate and rolled in your choice of flavours (or one of each)! Spice, Talita, Chili Pepper, or Vanilla sugar.
Creamcake – A Lantrielle specialty made with cream, butter, sugar, hints of vanilla, and just enough flour to hold it all together!
Well. Illumination’s paying, so why not? Sure, Nutmeg’s known as one of the most tight-laced little cafes in the River District, but since they post their menu on a slate board outside, I merely assumed they are open to the public! Which they are, but I’ve learned that they have a pretty elite clientele.
The first thing I noticed, besides a scent that was intoxicatingly enchanting and delicious, was that the menu had no prices. I know I should have asked about this, but something in the attitude of the place, the warm smile of the server, and the calm assurance of my fellow diners made me into a bit of a coward, and I simply placed my request, adding a small prayer to whatever deity happened to be listening (after the server was out of hearing range).
There’s something vaguely disturbing about the Nutmeg. Nothing sinister or anything, but it’s just that sort of place where it seems as if nothing could ever go amiss. For example, I could be eating at the Adventurer, say, and a fight could break out, or someone could drop a plate. That just doesn’t happen here. Nothing could disturb the smooth, easy attitude of the place. After I ordered a Vanilla Lace (just to see what the violet sugar cane was), I stared at it for a while, and a rebellious little spirit arose inside me. What if I tipped it over? What would they do? Would they just ignore it, as if it never happened? Or bend in one graceful motion and wipe up the spill with a white cloth produced from the inner fold of a sleeve?
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My point was proven. I couldn’t even spill something if I wanted to!
Oh yes. The violet sugar cane was a long, thin, piece of hard sugar candy, lightly scented of violet and swirled quite beautifully with clear, white, and purple colors.
I also ordered Wistful Dreams and the Creamcake.
Although the scent of Nutmeg borders on strong, (a scent which seemed to disappear a few moments after entering – I’ve heard that happens with smells) the flavors presented at my meal were almost too subtle. Nutmeg is for refined tasters, and my tongue, more used to richness and salt, longed for more . . . basic flavors. I sometimes had to hunt for the nuances that had been so vividly described in the menu.
Despite this, the quality of the food was exquisite, with preternaturally tender meat, vegetables cooked just so the crispness had left them, and flavors (when detected) that left you very badly wanting for more.
The Creamcake alone was exactly what I had hoped for, being just about the richest, creamiest concoction I could imagine. They should call it Dreamcake. There are a few things in life that would make all the prudishness of being incredibly wealthy worthwhile, and Creamcake is one of them.
My meal, I was pleasantly informed, would cost me thirty-eight silver. Not quite the nightmare I had expected, but bad enough nonetheless. The dainty pork loin meal cost me twenty silver, the drink eight, and the slice of ‘Dreamcake’ ten. I’d pay ten or fifteen silver for a drink, meal, and dessert at the Adventurer.
All in all, it was a memorable experience, but if they’d do something about the undisturbable and languid atmosphere, I’d feel more like I could breathe in there, which would considerably add to the enjoyment of my meal.