Food in the Wizard World

From ErtverseWiki

Industrialization’s impact on the non-magical world has led to mass packaging of food products, the rise of brands, and an entirely different set of tastes. The wizard world, meanwhile, has yet to advance beyond the coarse grocery shopping process of the 1920’s. Were one to juxtapose a wizard’s table setting against an average muggle’s, the two meals would look very different. It is important to understand that much of the magical’s conception of nutrition lies in variation, whereas a muggle’s depends more heavily on scientific conceptions of vitamins and daily nutriment, rather than a well-rounded palate. Further, while the non-magical’s meal is now commonly purchased and heated, the doting mother-witch endures incredible pains to cook and prepare a meal for the family. Ingredients, rather than whole hunks of the meal, are purchased; the hunt for fresh produce and meats is a time-consuming occupation. The two worlds certainly have a lot of overlap, but they differ in key areas -- one can always distinguish the muggleborn from the magical-raised when they raise eyebrows at pumpkin juice and start hunting for the simple orange variety.

Contents 1 Breakfast 2 Lunch 3 Dinner 4 Cooking and Baking 4.1 Storage 4.2 The Cook Herself 4.3 Magical Flavoring 5 Food Glossary

Breakfast

Here, the meal of the wizard and the muggle look the most similar. Toast, porridge, kippers, sausage, and oatmeal all make appearances. It should be noted that the average magical individual purchases loaves of bread, meaning that their toast is sliced by hand and appears as such. Many families typically have a fruitbread sitting on the table, in which raisins, dates, and random slices of berry have been kneaded into the dough before baking, making for a very sweet and interesting treat at the breakfast table. Less popular but not uncommon, rye and marbled loaves often require jam to meet the same levels of savor, but witches and wizards have an enormous variety of these. Podsnap jam is nearly standard at the table, unique because of the oddness of the podsnap berry itself; snapping, bursting, or otherwise rupturing the fuschia surface of the little fruit makes an ‘ahh!’ noise usually linked with coffee in the muggle realm. Spreading this jam over toast results in a chorus of ‘ahh!’, soothing or irritating by turns. Whortleberry, a rarer but extremely sweet alternative, flows through shades of blue when exposed to heat, even that so low as a fresh piece of toast; darrow preserves are favored by those with a sourtooth, as the light bite of the orange fruit (found only in the magical world, as it requires the tears of a spinster for nourishment) is a wonderful supplement to the dry piquancy of rye bread.

Pumpkin juice is the preferred accompaniment to all wizard meals; breakfast is no exception, though at this collation a little cinnamon is often sprinkled into the drink to further its inherent spices. Water is an obvious other avenue, but some favor nettle tea for it’s gentle bitterness, with or without an ounce of hippogriff milk. (Hippogriff milk is preferred in this context only for its ability to increase mental clarity, though the flavor is not so different from bovine variety, with only the slightest but tell-tale difference in texture to give it away, as it is notably less smooth.) Coffee is rapidly making a place at the table, though it was avoided for generations; the phenomena is blamed on the huge influx of muggleborns into magical society. To this, many of begun adding Bander’s Invigorant Extract, which functions much the same as muggle’s expresso, though rather than jitteriness those in danger of overdose have been noted to spew steam from the ears for a few moments, after which the effect subsides.

Plain fruit is always an option, but such is the formality of meals for witches and wizards that these kind of on-the-go foods have never climbed in popularity, and have ever been a simple supplement to the many grains and greasy meats available, rather than a substitute. As a final note, those raised in magical settings tend to use additives heavily in their food. Their porridge might be littered with strawberry cuttings; the overweight adolescent might slip some Abyssinian shrivelfig into their oatmeal. Nectar is an acceptable syrup in the wizard world, often dribbled across toast and porridge if plain honey is not available.

Lunch

Lunch is light for a wizard, borrowing many aspects from the later and earlier meals. Sandwiches, made from the same breads as above, are the most popular option, paired with soups. Though sandwiches are considered rather tame fair and resemble their muggle cousins closely, with a few differences in ingredients, as the meat is usually peppered with magical herbs, soups tend to look utterly foreign to a muggleborn. Newt eyes might roll amongst beef-tips and egg noodles. A unicorn hair could get tucked amongst lentils and beans for a healthful touch. Most magicals ingest these things without a second thought, having been ingrained to their inclusion. (It should be noted that while a dash of these ingredients in food is not unusual, they’re not typically sought out for their flavors. Magical children weather these oddities much in the same way muggles endure broccoli: a necessary evil.) As such, magical soups tend to more on par with low-grade potions insofar as magical results are achieved, as a subtle lift in mood, wellbeing, or happiness can be linked to their ingestion, pending on what extra additives were thrown in.

Normal noodles and a general selection, in the form of pasta, are a good alternative for the queasy muggleborn. Spaghetti sauce commonly tops these, traditionally with a healthy mix of mushrooms. Mini-versions of dinner options are often prepared for lunch; many of them resemble their nonmagical counterparts so closely as to forbid mention here. Chips are a favorite side-dish. It might be of note that wizards dine on fish more frequently in this middle-meal more than at supper, or so goes convention. Those that live near bodies of water violate this rule, and places like the Bait 'n Tackle have made fish-for-dinner a reasonable and attractive option, enough that the tradition, at the very least in the Bellsbury microcosm, has changed. Water and, again, pumpkin juice, are the more frequent beverage choices.

Dinner

Supper is a heavy affair. Meat is almost always a part of it, as vegetarianism is not yet a popular choice in the magical world, and in huge quantities. Pork, ham, beef of all cuts and kinds, lamb chops, and roast chicken are frequently on the table, and sometimes in combination. In addition to these, an upper middleclass family might dine on boar at Christmas, or a bicorn haunch during their hunting season, as well as other cuts of edible magical beasts. The clever cook often slips some nutritious but generally undetectable ingredients amongst the fare, such a gurdyroot (for better eyesight and self-satisfaction) into beef-oriented meals, as the onion-like taste of the former pairs well with the mellow flavor of the latter. Chicken is rarely breaded, but is often rubbed with olive oil and a selection of herbs, such as rosemary and thyme, or lemon-peppered for zest. Though these food items appear tame, it should be noted that a magical cook would never leave it as such. What an outsider would consider ‘potion ingredients’ gets thrown into the pot, as the nourishment a wizard is concerned with is not limited to physical well-being, but also mental and spiritual health as best supplemented by certain magical plants, herbs, and spices. For example, a cook might stir in some fluxweed into their beef stew, if the one they were cooking for had experienced some stagnation or was being unduly close-minded, or, if feeling very vengeant, they might smear glumbumble secretion over an inattentive husband’s chicken.

The vegetables supplementing these carnivorous platters include carrots, sprouts, peas, potatoes, and corn, most commonly, though any muggle vegetable within reason would be at their disposal. Just as their non-magical cousins, the only dressing they get is a heavy slab of butter. Pasta is a reasonable alternative, though it might be noted that wizards dine on this more heavily during earlier meals and concentrate on meats and vegetables on their last meal. While pumpkin juice would certainly be an option, adults may enjoy a little casual drinking at the dinner table. A bit of firewhiskey on ice, or a tall pint of gillywater, or even a bit of the family’s elderflower wine in a wooden goblet would be among the more common refreshments in this regard. Milk, of course, could be swapped in, as could the eminently obvious water. Some families supply a sprig of mint, to be sucked on, used to pick teeth, or chewed contemplatively at the close of a meal, as a way of clearing the palate; though certainly not a universal phenomenon, it is common amongst middle-class families.

As a last note, dinner plates are often different from that of the general meal plates. In some families, this includes two sets -- a fine china of sorts, and a second plainer dinner set. Most, however, have only the one set. For pureblood families, these often feature a decorative rendering of the family crest, or are constructed of one of the fine metals in some functional, but artistic way. For most, however, it simply means plateware of high-grade porcelain with some special decoration on it, such as dancing hippogriffs (animated or simply stylistically rendered), lovely colors, or impressive charm work. An example might be a set of dishes with scripted text informing you that you had better finish your peas, or flashed bright red when you fed the burnt casserole to the dog.

Cooking and Baking

Storage

Lacking the invention of the refrigerator, most meat is dried and hung, or bought fresh. Though there are cold charms that allow it to be stored for longer periods without the danger of rot, these are rarely used; thus, leftovers are not as common a concept in the wizard world, and meals remain an immense effort on the part of those preparing them. This also means that most wizard homes come equipped with a pantry, and that the non-meat components of a repast are also stored in cupboards, in bowls, or hung from racks as necessary. In many homes, this storeroom functions doubly as a place to house potion ingredients, a state of close-quarters that only the muggleborn ever object to, as most magical-raised individuals are used to the commingling of the two in every dish.

The Cook Herself

In the traditional magical home, it is the mother, or the eldest daughter, who cooks for and serves the family, and as a subsidiary duty is also in charge of the constant procurement of fresh ingredients and produce. The father-figure functioned mostly as breadwinner in this arrangement; sons, nephews, and any other young male’s involvement was limited to peeling potatoes, perhaps, or gathering vegetables from the garden, any sort of mildly skilled, dirty work. This image is changing, rapidly. Though ‘housewife’ remains a popular occupation for women, many of the current generation (due to the heavy influx of muggleborns and thus muggle conventions, or so goes the general theory) have rejected the old roles in favor of individualistic definitions. Some young women, for example, cannot cook; their careers are not created and enjoyed for the pursuit of a mate, but for the pleasure of a calling, or the shared pooling of incomes. Meanwhile, young men who have that happy talent are treated as even more eligible bachelors. House-husbands are not a common phenomena, but there have been sightings. Especially modern marriages might feature the trading off of meal preparation, though these unions are unusually troubled by mother-in-law meddling. To summarize a rather complicated movement, there is some test toe-dipping into kitchen sex-equality.

Magical Flavoring

Many of those not familiar with a witch or wizard cook assume that magical finagling is an enormous part of the process, suggesting that through magical means every supper is an exquisite confection, and that the labor associated with muggle food-preparation is pared down to a few flicks of the wand. Not so, I’m afraid. Any excessive amount of spellwork renders most food unpalatable, by sheer virtue of the batter-acid taste that even an innocent piece of cake takes on if magically overwrought. A few enchantments, perhaps, could be cast, but even these the magical chef must beware of, as certain spells infuse different tastes. The common engorgio, for example, dulls the flavor to near null, and leaves a faint fart-smell in the place of whatever delicious waft was there before. Many quit them altogether while in the kitchen, beyond a few innocuous accio’s, as the crackling, near electric atmosphere that crops up with over-the-top casting would ruin even untouched food for most meal-goers.

Food Glossary

Bicorn Meat

An extravagant treat, often only for holidays, bicorn meat is notable for the exquisite juiciness and accompanying contentment. It was once described as beef improved by magnitudes of ten; the general consensus is that there are few foods that compare for sheer savory goodness, especially given the supernatural calm that descends after an eating for an hour so. The price matches the delightful taste, however, and most families only ever splurge for special occasions. Though the extremely wealthy can afford to have it on a regular basis, most refrain, as the extreme satisfaction is possesses tends to dim other meats in comparison.

Darrow Preserves

Just as described in the Breakfast portion, darrow plants (red-leaved, squat things that bear shriveled and heart-shaped orange fruits) are nourished only by the tears of a spinster, and result in an appropriately bitter fruit. They’re pleasantly sour, and though most commonly spread over toast in the form of jarred preserves, they are also sometimes baked into tangy cobblers with the supplementation of sweeter fruits.

Doxy Eggs

As they do come in clutches of five-hundred or so, doxy eggs are a delicious and easily found breakfast treat, and used in many recipes. Often less than an inch in breadth, and roughly that in width, they appear to be very small but fat eggs of varying color, usually in the indigo range but sometimes as wild as daffodil yellow. All glitter suspiciously. A strong tap with a silver spoon will crack the surface, releasing the clear albumen and the outrageous purple yolk, which may be prepared much in the same manner as traditional chicken-eggs. The normal dark-eggs tend to have an oddly spicy taste, but those in the stranger, lighter part of the spectrum can have any number of tastes. An orange one was reported to have a sweet taste; a pretty blue egg made a sour omelette.

Dragon Egg Omelet

Though illegal in every country (but the Vatican), scrambled dragon egg is considered the world’s first and foremost delicacy. Men have died trying to obtain the eggs; the badly signed survivors have been persecuted. It is a sign of sinful wealth to have sampled it at all, though those that have report the strangest taste, something akin to every flavor from sweet to sour to spicy to piquant hitting the mouth in an explosion of taste, after which nothing else can quite cut it. More than one book on dragons, however, has suggested that the delightful medley of flavor suggested above is either a lie or a psychological aftereffect of sampling one of the rarest, most exclusive foods found the world over. At the same time, the only speculation these books offer is that the real taste would be almost totally, but not quite, unlike chicken.

Elderflower Wine

Most fullblood families have a recipe for it, as the elderberry tree is prolific enough and the wine rather easy to make. The term ‘elderflower wine’ extends from the wine or cordial produced by the fermentation of its berries and to the liqueur made from careful selections of elderflowers, though the actual wine variety is the most common. Longer lineage’s typically have mastered their wine such that its recipe become a guarded secret, though the wine itself is regularly given away to other families as a casual gift. It’s rarely bought, though technically stocked for sale; as far as alcohol goes, it is both the most available and the most drank, but there is a kind of stigma attached to getting inebriated through it, since it’s so heavily associated with kin. As said, precise mixtures do vary, but it is a universally sweet wine of dark color.

Gillywater

Made from an extract of gillyweed, gillywater is an alcoholic beverage with an impressive proof. Lightly green in color, its flavor is both sour and fishy, leaving a rubber-like aftertaste in its wake, but some of its fans claim that there is a subtle saccharine quality that arises after the initial unpleasantness. Sipping on it during a meal has the interesting effect of intensifying the flavor of the biteful just taken. A pint or so, even paired with food, will inebriate most men of average height and weight, resulting in the fish-eye view so heavily linked to the drink. Besides the embarrassment of drunken misbehavior, gillywater has the added danger of taking on the effects of gillyweed if drank excessively, leading all but the most devil-may-care adolescents to sip easily on it.; despite common knowledge of this hazard and the warning label on every bottle, there’s an incident every five years or so where a teenager sprouts gills and cannot find a bucket in time, but the spirit has its popularity.

Hippogriff Milk

Two things alone make it exceptional. First, ingesting even a small amount clears the mind drastically and livens up the senses, making it a popular coffee or tea supplement. Second, there is a coarse texture to it, easily notable, that distinguishes it from the smoothness of other varieties of dairy. Despite its special clarity property, many forgo it for this very strangeness.

Nettle Tea

A pleasantly bitter drink, nettle tea is the preferred tea for wizards. Physically, it is a clear gold liquid before anything is added; a slip of hippogriff milk is the preferred mellowing agent, though it softens the color of the drink to a dull brown, as the tea tends to balance the odd texture of the milk. Its smell has a light sting, though is often contradictorily described as lulling -- the later adjective is blamed on its heavy associations with home, hearth, and family.

Ogden's Old Firewhiskey

There’s one in every cupboard. Widespread, if not always immediately reached for, every adult over twenty-five has a firewhiskey story they’d really rather not tell. The burning taste connected to the muggle version is especially true for the wizard; a few shots too many results in fire-burps and super-hot vomit. Like gillywater, firewhiskey has a very high proof, and is often cautioned against by concerned mothers and experienced friends, though there is a certain rite of passage associated with its over-imbibing. Excessive use may be pinpointed by the tell-tale reddening of the ears; water and sweat will hiss as they evaporate off the lobes, and hair will singe if it strays too long against a firewhiskey-red ear. As both these signs are not likely to be noted by someone sporting the reddness, it’s often up to the attentive and dutiful friend to point it out.

Podsnap Jam

Considered the most refreshing or infuriating jam in the world, podsnap berries (often only called podsnaps) make a rejuvenating ‘ahh!’ noise upon the rupturing of the berry-skin. Spreading podsnap jam over toast results in a chorus of this pleased noise. It is a fuchsia-colored fruit with a taste often compared to the wedding of a raspberry and a blueberry.

Whortleberry Jam

Whortleberries react to heat by changing color, and even a knife-spread of the blue stuff across a piece of toast results in a blue spectrum that shifts shade as the toast cools. As for the flavor, it’s said to be a simple blueberry knockoff, though the beautiful visual effects make it absolutely preferable.