Yo all, if you’re wondering what our future plans re: Archive 81 and a bunch of other stuff are… HERE’S WHERE WE TELL YOU THEM.
Plus, Daniel Powell, Marc Sollinger, and John Maher (the actor who plays both Rat and Jeremy) answer your questions. Hear us talk about our inspirations and process! Hear us recommend fiction podcasts to tide you over until we return (Ars Paradoxica, The Bright Sessions, Welcome to Night Vale, The Black Tapes, The Bridge Podcast, The Dark Tome, Greater Boston, Darkest Night, and Beef And Dairy Network, are all things you should listen to)! Hear Marc get testier and testier as he boils to death in a 90 degree room!
Take a listen. We can’t wait for you to hear our cool/weird/new audio thing.
The beef noodle soup was good. The atmosphere in the lane was better. But the crabby boss was the highlight of my late night visit. I loved watching him work and yell at his staff.
He seemed annoyed by everything, including the two Japanese tourists that sat next to us. They were clearly there to eat beef noodle soup, but he was too impatient to find out, so he ended up serving them something completely different instead.
So just a tip for tourists; if you’re going to go to a local place like this, be sure to know how to speak the name of what you want (“niu rou mian” in this case) or just have it written down (牛肉麵).
For travelers, it’s definitely worth the trouble.
100, Taipei City, Zhongzheng District, Lane 46, Section 1, Chongqing S Rd, 7號
“i want to apologize to all the women i have called beautiful before i’ve called them intelligent or brave i am sorry i made it sound as though something as simple as what you’re born with is all you have to be proud of when you have broken mountains with your wit from now on i will say things like you are resilient, or you are extraordinary not because i don’t think you’re beautiful but because i need you to know you are more than that.”
I have a stupid question, does sock fully identify as male? Because I think he's gender fluid, but I wanted to check with you since you made the damn video
I feel like I’ve answered this question a billion times, but a quick search through my blog tells me it’s only been 2 or 3.
My stance has always been that I wasn’t initially writing Sock as anything other than a male. He goes by ‘he’, everyone in the W2H universe accepts that without questioning it, and that’s about as much thought as I’ve given it. I don’t have any plans to delve into his gender identity in the story, but people are definitely free to interpret characters however they see fit, and in whatever way resonates best with them. Sock is Sock, regardless!
So you’re hungry and just showed up in Thedas. Fortunately, your fifteen best friends have your back.
to make one dish, though she regrets not learning more. She stirs up
a risotto, rich arborio rice from Antiva cooked down into a thick and
creamy stew. At the end she adds half its weight in shredded salty
cheese and a handful of black pepper. She serves it with an apology.
It is delicious, the kind of food you crave when sick or sad. And
that’s when she makes it.
his way around a kitchen, and how to feed himself. He can turn a
skittering animal into a halfway decent roast with very little at his
disposal, but his real specialty, the one he cooks up for his friends
and people he loves? Sausages, sliced up and grilled until touches of
black appear on the skins. He chops up a bunch of apples, onions and
parsnips, cooks them all together and tops it with the grilled
sausage. His sausages are perfect. They’re always seasoned well,
cooked to retain their juices and he knows exactly how to get the
proper amount of char on them.
a mean breakfast, but don’t tell anyone. She’ll wake you up from her
sofa, handing you a plate of pancakes that are somehow thick and
light. She got some good syrup, and she ain’t telling you where its
from. There’s too much butter on top. It’s wonderful.
himself to cook, quickly tiring of burnt and underdone foods. His
specialty is oxtail stew, a manly, hearty dish. He adds a variety of
spicy Tevinter peppers, tiny ones the size of berries, large red ones
that are mostly sweet and round orange ones that pack a lot of heat.
Tomatoes and carrots and a fistful of fragrant herbs rounds it off.
If you’re really special, he’ll shave curls of hard white cheese on
eat, and he can’t quite grok cooking. But he knows what people like
to eat, what satisfies them when they need it. For some people that’s
a thick slab of bread and butter, for others it’s stew and a bit of
rice. But he has a bit of talent for finding ripe fruit, of picking
the best plums, the sweetest apples. That’s his. He might bring you
your mother’s curry, but he’ll put a soft and sweet peach on the
his ass off in the kitchen, an apron protecting his lush chest hair
from the bits of flour that might land in it. He makes up a sticky
wet yeast dough, stretches it thin and tops it with oil, salt, tiny
fishes from the harbor, salty olives and sweet, thick slices of
tomato. He roasts it hot, tossing it on the table for everyone to eat
with their hands.
eat much, but he has an eye for refined foods. If you come to sit
with him at night, he’ll present a plate of things to snack on. Deep
fried wood grubs, pickles and olives, rich creamy cheeses, sharp
bitter cheeses, paper thin crisps that exist as vehicles for the
above. He has a private stash of berry wines that are thick and
sweet, but they somehow go with all this salty and rich food, and he
happy to share it with you.
no small skill in the kitchen, though she tends to curse a lot as she
works, overreacting to fire that’s too hot or forgetting something in
the oven for a minute too long. She stews up a Nevarran classic,
spareribs in sauerkraut. Her mother showed her when she was very
young to add whole caraway seeds, allspice berries and wedges of
under ripe pear. She thunks it onto the table, telling you it’s
nothing special. You both have second helpings.
a roast chicken. He roasts potatoes in butter and salt and serves the
two together. The chicken is lean and slightly tough, but it’s
roasted properly, golden crispy skin and sweet meat, just as it
should be. He tells you later that he’ll cook something more suitable
next time, more fitting your station, and you don’t know what that
means. Next time, it’s the same chicken. And it was just as wonderful
as the first.
The Iron Bull loves
sweets and desserts and would happily serve you Par Vollen banana
cake for dinner, but instead he cooks up a curry. It’s got large
chunks of hard dry squash in it that suck up the spiced sauce.
Cardamom, green peppercorns, coriander seeds and stems and roots,
garlic and pungent fermented fish go in first. He fries them until
the smell is in everything. He adds duck, chopped in irregular
pieces, bones and all. Over it all he pours a thin broth, letting the
whole thing simmer until thick and pungent. The squash goes in last,
and then when it’s just about ready, he adds fresh herbs. It’s
complex, spicy, makes your eyes water and leaves you wanting more.
how to make people talk and it doesn’t always involve a dagger to the
neck. Sometimes all it takes is fried artichokes, dry Orlesian white
wine, a plate of extremely fresh raw beef sliced paper thin, and some
very expensive pate. Salt makes you thirsty, wine gets you tipsy, and
before you know it, she’s got what she needs. Of course, often times
what she needs is to share a fine meal with a friend, but that’s
a beef soup that’s so spicy it’ll make you sweat and your eyes water.
She laughs as the two of you blow your noses and cough. The beef is
shredded in an oily red broth, lots of long thin deep mushrooms on
top. More for texture than anything, really. She cooks up a pot of
rice to go with it, and serves it with pickles. You ask if this is
Dwarven cuisine and she giggles a lot, but doesn’t actually answer
your question. When the soup is gone, she takes the rest of the rice,
dumps it in the bowl and pours hot tea over it. You’re full, but you
drink it down anyway. It is delicious.
cooking with her mother when she was growing up and compares
everything she makes to her mother’s food. You’ve never had her
mother’s food so it doesn’t mean anything to you. Her favorite thing
to make is corned beef and cabbage. She cures the meat herself, not
trusting anyone to do it properly, then simmers it for hours and
hours. The cabbage goes in the water, and she pulls it out while it
still has some texture to it. Carrots and potatoes, of course. She
always cooks for a crowd, inviting others to join if there’s too
much. Corned beef night becomes a monthly event, one everyone looks
like you to know that of
she can cook. The Free Marches are not known for their cuisine, but
Orlais is. Madame de Fer found Orlesian specialties somewhat lacking
in spirit and so she puts her own twist on them. Her masterpiece is
mussels. She cooks them with spicy Antivan cured sausage and a
generous portion of white wine. The mussels are pulled out of the pan
and laid out on a platter. She brings the fire up with one hand,
boiling the liquid rapidly and finishing with a lump of the finest
butter. She pours the sauce over the mussels and serves with
crackling crisp bread. She eats everything with her hands, and when
you make a comment, she tells you only a fool uses a tool when what
you’re born with will do the job better.
much for kitchen work. But one night on the road, he catches a number
of fish, and it brings up a memory of a rundown little inn in the
Tevinter countryside. He still has a jar of salted lemons, sour and
flavorful. He smears the lemon over the fish, wrapping it in leaves
and roasting it over the fire. Potatoes, can’t forget the potatoes.
Those he slices thin, along with some onions, salt and pepper. They
get a wrapping of thick leaves and roasted next to the fish. Sour and
salt, and fresh and brine and rich and buttery. Everything tastes
better when you’re hungry, but really, Krem knows what he’s doing.