#the elder scrolls cooking

[rosette-dragonborn]

I am so happy! For Christmas, I got The Elder Scrolls Official Cookbook. It contains classic recipes such as sweetrolls, Elsweyr fondue, S'jirra's famous potato bread, and even 'skooma' (a sweet alcoholic drink). This is the perfect gift for a nerd that likes to cook.

[uesp]

We received a review copy of The Elder Scrolls: The Official Cookbook Vol. 2. While we've yet to make any of the meals from it, we have read it. The cookbook is written from an in-universe perspective, from a young chef adventuring across Tamriel to learn more about cooking.

There were a lot of little details that were very interesting to us from a lore perspective, this book legitimately gives us one of the largest looks at life in the Fourth Era across Tamriel. Very surprisingly, it even seemingly confirms the events of one of Skyrim's questlines.

We were particularly surprised that it gave us a look into some of the regions that it did, like the Summerset Isles (although we can't show you previews from those pages yet). And this book can be added to the growing list of evidence that others are aware of M'aiq the Liar.

There was even a surprising segment that explored a very niche lore topic that was of interest to one of our editors (can't show you the preview from that one yet either).

It's kind of strange that one of the most common complaints about recipes are the unnecessary stories that get attached to them, but for this book it was one of the highlights for us. Ironically, this cookbook made us really hungry for them to release more official Elder Scrolls books.

You can find the publisher's official list of links to this book here, and it should be released officially very soon.

[tastesoftamriel]

In the midst of all the madness, I forgot to share this rad collab I did with Nic from Quench Quest on YouTube! This sujamma video was great fun to be a part of and I'm so humbled that others want to work with me!

Anyway, enjoy, and please don't mind my weird accent. My segment starts around 8 minutes in! ~Tal

[peony-plum]

Who would you marry?

[exhausted-eternally]

Been wanting a copy of Talviel's Kitchen but didn't manage to snag one last time? They're available again! You can preorder your copy here!

Alternatively, if you want to show @tastesoftamriel some support but can't quite afford a book, be sure to go drop a few bucks at her Ko-Fi!

(Preorders will only be open until December 7 so don't wait to get one!)

[falmerbrook]

Snow Elf culture?

*pulls up a chair*

Perhaps...

A wee disclaimer that I'm not particularly good or creative with developing cultures or societies, but my brain has just latched on to the snow elves in a way where I can't stop myself. But anyway

I developed a lot of this because of a big ass draft for a fic I've been writing on and off about Gelebor and Vyrthur, so a lot of my headcanons are religion heavy. I'll start there:

Gelebor seems to place Auri-El and the Chantry of Auri-El as having significant importance to the Snow Elves over the other gods/temples. He's probably got a bit of bias in that regard since he's devoted his life to Auri-El, but in order to differentiate their religion from the other elven ones I like to think that their religion in general worshipped Auri-El as not even just as the figure head of their pantheon, but almost monotheistical, while the other gods (Trinimac, Syrabane, Jephre and Phynaster according to Gelebor) were like minor divine figures or just legendary heroes even more than in Altmer myth, depending on the interpretation. My idea is that if their culture had been allowed to continue on, it would've eventually become monotheistic, but by the arrival of the Nords they were in a bit of an awkward transition period with it.

I also like to lean into the sun motif with Auri-El that they established in Dawnguard and with Auriel's Bow, partially because it's another thing to make their depiction of him more unique, and in part because it makes some very juicy irony for Vyrthur. Some ideas include:

- The more religious folk tend to pray at noon when the sun is at it's highest. - The two biggest snow elf festivals happen on the summer and winter solstices. As far north as they are, the summer solstice is during a time of year where the sun barely sets and the winter one is during a time of year where it barely rises. The summer one is more jovial and celebratory, with a grand feast. With almost 24 hours of daylight, the festivities last up to three days straight, with folks commonly staying awake for over 24 hours. Most of it is spent outside, with the celebration being focused on making the most of the weather and daylight hours to spend as much time in the sun and the light of Auri-El as possible. The winter festival is as large scale but lasts longer and is lower-key. It also involves a feast but features more winter foods and meat and alcohol. It is more pensive. At this point in the year, there is no full daylight, and so this season is seen as a test of one’s faith and mental fortitude. This festival acts as a break from this trying time, taking time to relax, build community (a strong community will allow them to make it through the winter and strengthen their minds), and bond with family and friends. It is about a weeklong break, where leading up to the festival everyone works harder to prepare for it and allow themselves to have the break. There are activities and festivities, but they remain indoors for the most part and are smaller. - I've referenced this before, but with long winters with little sunlight (due to harsh weather and short days), they see that time of year as a reflective test of will and faith.

Due to their proximity to dragons, it was hard to miss the connection between Auri-El (/Akatosh) and dragons, and so their depiction of Auri-El is either much more influenced by the iconography of dragons, or is a dragon (although their depiction of dragon Auri-El is much more benevolent than the Nord/Atmoran one). I got the idea for this one from this Reddit post (i know I dog on Reddit a lot but this one has got some fun stuff in it, even if it's a bit out there)

^On that note, later in the timeline (post Dragon War (the timeline is very fuzzy on when this and the Night of Tear happens. They are both sometime vaguely in the late Merethic Era I believe, but it's unclear which happens first or how long each conflict is)) some Snow Elves see a sort of unreturned, unofficial comradery with dragons, seeing themselves as both on the receiving end of the Nord's/Atmoran's brutality (disregarding whether it was warranted or not in the context of the Dragon War).

Ok here's some more general cultural ones:

I mentioned my reasoning for this in this post, but I like to think their general settlements were not as permanent, with a larger focus on wood and building into the sides of hills (good for warmth), while their temples tended to be made of stone and much more permanent. This is why there are so few identifiable Snow Elf ruins across Skyrim. Their cities and towns were easy to wipe out, scavenged for resources, or were in good places for Nordic cities (perhaps Bromjunaar was originally the site of a Snow Elf city?), and their temples were either very hidden (e.g. the Chantry of Auri-El) or eventually converted to Nordic temples.

I love this journal in general for gleaning ideas for Snow Elf headcanons for, but one interesting this is the use of "Old Ones" and "Young One". They're treated like established titles. From that I like to think they place a lot of emphasis on the respect of those older than you. The social hierarchy and whose opinions are most valued is heavily influenced by age. Folks call anyone older or more revered “Old Ones” as a term of respect, and anyone younger than them “Young Ones”. Old One is almost never used in a demeaning way, but Young One can be (not always). Typically, “Old Ones” is used in the third person (e.g. you wouldn’t refer to someone directly as “old one”) whole “Young One(s)” can be used as an epithet for someone directly or in third person.

When thinking about death/"burial" customs (needed for some scenes in the fic I'm planning), you have to consider that there probably wasn't a lot of land in a place like Skyrim where someone can be buried. Nords intern their dead in crypts or burn them to get around this, and I like to think Snow Elves participated in something akin to sky burials (at least sometimes). After preparation, the departed's body is left outside on a ledge, cliff, or the temple balcony to be scavenged by birds. This is seen as a metaphorical return to Aetherius, while their soul literally returns to it. They do this even in poor weather or deep winter. If it doesn’t thaw and rot/be scavenged until months later, so be it. The length it takes to rot is considered indicative of how long it takes for the spirit to let go and move on (not in a bad way though. It’s interpreted more in the way of the soul or body grieving). It's seen as if they may wish to wait until spring to finally rot if they want to experience one more warm, sunny day.

Food (I mostly wrote this in my notes in the context of the Forgotten Vale and Chantry of Auri-El, but I think it could work elsewhere as well to an extent): Plant-based food is grown in gardens in the spring and summer, and that that is able to be stored is carefully preserved through the fall and winter. Winter foods include some nuts, dried vegetables, and dried and preserved/fermented grains (like wheat, barely). These foods must be eaten slowly throughout the winter to last, and winter diets are more meat based. Summer foods include apples, cabbage/lettuce, leeks, tomatoes etc. Snowberries can be found in the wild out of season of most other fruits, and provide fruit in very early spring. Occasionally, fungus from caves is harvested, but this is seen as a delicacy (foreshadowing).

Ok, that's it for now. I gotta go to bed. Thanks for the ask!!!! :D

[cuppon]

TES Food::Chicken Dumplings

The Elder Scrolls: The Official Cookbook

Chicken Dumplings | 3.5

These dumplings are a specialty of many an inn across Skyrim, where travelers can enjoy them hot after a long day's journey, but they're also a popular pick in one's own homestead kitchen. In either case, the creamy filling has restorative properties, especially washed down with a flagon of the local specialty.

⭑⭑⭑⭑☆ | Taste: 4/5

The flavor is there, but it isn't as good as it should be given how much work is involved. As usual with these recipes, at a minimum you want to double the custom seasoning (Stormcloak in this case). There are a lot of other pot-pie-like filling recipes you can use that involve a lot less work

⭑⭑☆☆☆ | Cooking Ease: 2/5

Heavy prep: you have to make the dough beforehand, and additionally, baking the chicken ahead of time and then pulling it apart into bite-sized pieces to then re-bake is time consuming

⭑⭑☆☆☆ | Cost to Make: 2.5/5

Cheddar isn't the most expensive cheese ever, but with only needing 1/4 cup, you're not exactly getting your money's worth

Rye flour for the rye pie dough is a more specialty flour, and thus commands a specialty price

You can probably substitute onions for leeks in this recipe, so that can help reduce cost

Notes:

When each recipe is cooked for the first time, there are no substitutions used; the recipe is cooked exactly as the book states, with the given ingredients. I only recommend what I feel could be good substitutes, if any, after the first time making the recipe

[ehlnofay]

A woman pauses over the wares sold by the Khajiiti merchants camped outside Danstrar to ask with no small amount of perturbation, “Whose children are those?”

Efri glances up to check she’s talking about them – as if there’s a whole host of other children around she might be referring to. The woman is standing over the rug Tsradaro’s laid out their most intriguing trinkets on – she has one clawed hand on the lid of a little palm-sized casket, one of the boxes of pretty-smelling oils. (If the strange woman is getting to buy one, then Efri’s jealous. She doesn’t have any money, and she’s not allowed to use those sorts of things for free, no matter how nice the perfume smells. Normally she doesn’t care about rules like that, but the caravan is being very nice and the things they sell are their livelihood, so she follows them without much complaining.)

The woman is looking at her and Sissel, clustered with Khasir around the firepit. Efri and Sissel are hunched over the steaming-hot fish on a dish, away from the pan of spitting butter. Efri says brightly, “We’re our own children.”

“We found them in the wilderness,” Taz puts in quietly, fingers running up and down the handle of the axe laying at eir side on the blanket, and Efri nods in agreement. (She likes Taz, even if ey talks barely more than Kazari or Shirri-la. A lot less if you count all the things Kazari and Shirri-la say that the others translate for her. Ey’s calm and quiet and has let Efri touch eir axe, so ey’s good in her books.)

“Exactly,” she says. The woman looks no less perplexed or concerned. Efri squints and tells her, “I like your beads.”

(She does. The woman’s got a string of them, pretty coloured glass, stretched across her breast between her hangerok brooches. Most of them are a fiery orange-red, the same colour as her hair.)

The woman looks down at the beads she wears as if she forgot about them. “Oh,” she says. “Thank you.”

Efri abandons the fish – not like she can do anything with it, it’s too hot to touch still – to shuffle across the laid-out rugs and join Tsradaro at her display. “Are you going to buy any fabrics?” she asks the woman, and then before there’s really time to answer she turns to Tsradaro. “Did you show her them? We’ve got some really pretty silks and things. Nice patterns. I wanted to make a dress with them but Tsradaro said no, they’re for selling.”

The woman’s eyebrows – bright-bead-red – meet in the middle of her forehead. “Do you… help sell things here?”

“She is a born patterer, that one,” Tsradaro says smoothly. Her whiskers twitch. “And yes, they’re for  selling – and yes, Tsradaro already gave you money for the dress you have, she isn’t going to give you fabric for a new one. She is not quite so open-handed.”

Efri curls up her fingers to rub the stitching of her sleeve. “Fair enough,” she acknowledges. “And it’s nice. But that green one is so pretty.”

“Hm.” Tsradaro is grinning with her eyes a bit; she hides it fiddling with the display of the wares on the rug in front of her. “If there is a bolt-end left over, you can have it for a scarf. Now shoo. You are distracting the customers.”

“And you’ve abandoned the fish!” Khasir calls. When he grins, it’s with all his teeth, sharp-edged and sparkling. “This one cannot do it all on their own.”

There’s only one customer, and the fish is still steaming, but Efri gets the hint, so she blinks her thanks and hurries back over to the fire.

“We’re doing all three?” she checks, looking at the numerous pots and pans Khasir’s rigged up over the flames. (She bought three cod with the money they gave her for dinner. That’s certainly not a fish she and Sissel and Kazari ever caught from their tundra creek – they’re so much bigger than she could have imagined, and it took all her strength to haul them back to the camp. She had to carry one of them in her arms because it didn’t all fit in the little sack she brought.)

“Yes,” they say emphatically, poking at something in one of the pots. “So hurry up.”

Because she’s helpful, Efri does. She squats down next to Sissel, next to the dish, and takes up the knife. She cuts off the head – it takes a fair bit of hacking – and the tail, because Sissel hates that bit, and cuts the fins out as well. She cracks some of the bones there by accident; Sissel picks them out with her fingers. Then, sticking her tongue out in concentration, she runs the knife right down the middle, jerking the blade through the bones. It isn’t going right through the bottom like it did with the fish they learned to butcher from the stream, but she more or less gets it eventually; cuts away the chunks of bone, and is left with two beautiful fillets.

Well. Beautiful might be a bit generous. But they’re edible – surely that’s the most important thing.

“Told you I knew how to debone a fish,” Efri says triumphantly.

Khasir glances up over the flour they’re tipping into a hanging pan. “You do,” he agrees amiably, and for a moment Efri thinks he’s being nice, but then he cracks another smug little grin. “But not well. The pin bones are still in.”

Efri frowns. She can’t see any bones. It’s filleted fine.

“Let me,” Sissel says, and peels the knife out of her hand. Efri frowns again, harder, but lets her.

Her irritation is only compounded when Khasir finds nothing to tease about in the way Sissel carefully slices the bones away and strips the skin of with a few neat, if unpractised, cuts. “That’s not fair,” she complains, mulish. “Sissel’s basically a genius, of course she’ll get it right.”

“I’m not a genius,” Sissel says, “I’m just better at this than you,” and she smiles when Efri giggles despite herself, a quick flash of teeth.

Khasir has Sissel do the rest of the fillets. They let Efri watch the way they fry up the batter – just flour in a pan of spitting butter and sizzling herbs, a little bit of egg put in to help it all bond. When it’s cooked all golden, smelling delicious, he levers it quick as a wink off the flat pan and into the covered dish he’s keeping them warm in while they wait for the rest of it all to be done. Efri asks to cook a griddle-cake herself; Khasir laughs at her.

They’re a bit of a bastard.

They do let her stir the sauce for the fish, though – hung a little bit higher than everything else so it can simmer with lower heat. It smells nice too. Sissel’s almost done with the third fish by this time. (She’s a lot faster than Efri was; it’s probably for the best that she do most of the filleting.)

Efri looks up and across the camp. There’s two different people now at Tsradaro’s display – one standing, one kneeling to get a better look at all the things. Shirri-la has come out of the tent, and she’s sitting with her tail curled around her feet on her cushion next to the wares. Kazari’s still in the tent, Efri thinks. They’re tired – helped carry most things as they travelled this last stretch of journey to Danstrar in order to give the nag a break, so now they’re resting. It’s only fair. In a week or so they’ll all split off from the caravan, strike out across the frozen terrain for Winterhold, and they’ll really need the energy then.

Just a bit further away, the red-haired woman is standing. Efri’s not sure if she bought something or not; she doesn’t look like she’s looking to buy anything now.

“That lady’s looking at us,” Efri tells Khasir, her brow furrowing.

Khasir glances over so quick Efri’s not even sure if she saw it right; they make a guttural tutting sound over the batter in the pan. Tch. “People do that,” he replies, deliberately nonchalant.

Efri bites her tongue. “They shouldn’t,” she complains. It’s uncomfortable, to be stared at. It’s rude, to stare.

(She feels a bit bad, even though she didn’t do anything wrong; because the woman seemed uncomfortable with Efri and Sissel being with the caravan, and maybe if they weren’t, Khasir wouldn’t have to be stared at while they cook dinner.)

“Perhaps,” Khasir says. He flips the batter. “But they do.”

“Done,” Sissel says, holding up a dish full of neatly filleted fish.

(Efri says, “How.” Both Khasir and Sissel ignore her.)

“Chop it up small,” Khasir tells her. The jewellery in his nose glitters as he shifts over the fire. “Then – Efri, mix it in with the sauce. No, not – smaller than that, dran khrassa! So all can eat.”

Sissel slices the fish into little bits. (Efri would have cut them into tiny strips, to get back at Khasir for being bossy, but Sissel is more forgiving.) Efri takes the dish, tips it into the saucepan, begins to stir.

“If we were in Elsweyr, Khajiit would stare at you,” Khasir says. He takes the flat-cake off the pan. “They would say, who let these bald children run around unsupervised?”

Efri chuckles, but she feels pensive. Her face screws up. “But if we were in Elsweyr,” she says, “even if they stared at us, they’d still let us buy from their shops and all.”

Khasir sighs, long and low. They lift the lid off the dish. “Efri,” they say, with unexpected patience; “This one understands that you are a child who has just discovered injustice. This is new to you. It is not new to us. Khasir knew before he travelled here that he would be treated poorly.”

“But it’s not fair,” Efri replies, agitated, her fingers bony and twitching on the handle of her spoon. “It’s not fair to do both. They can keep you out or they can stare, they can’t keep you where they can’t even see you and then still come to look anyway.” She keeps looking, without quite meaning to, in the direction of the red-haired woman. She keeps glaring. She hopes it scares her off.

“Mm,” Khasir says, unimpressed – but faintly amused, she thinks, which is kind of annoying but also kind of good? “Well, you can tell the people who make the laws so, have them forbid wrongful staring.”

Efri, mixing, considers this. “Sissel,” she asks, “can you write a message to a jarl?”

Khasir cackles. Sissel scrunches up her face. “Well, you can. I doubt they’d read it.”

That’s one idea gone, Efri supposes. She’ll have to keep thinking.

Khasir does not allow her time to keep thinking. “Another few minutes and that will be perfect,” they say, nodding to the pot she’s stirring, and they take their griddle-pan off the fire. Then they pause, look at Efri out of the edges of their bright greeny-gold eyes. “This one will own, it has been much easier with you as companions. We did not have to wait for the grocers and fishmongers to come out to trade on their own time, or forage for ourselves if they did not.”

“You just don’t want to do your job,” Efri says. Tsradaro said Khasir hunted but he’s barely hunted at all while they’ve known him, only just at the beginning.

Khasir barks a laugh, tipping his head in acknowledgement. With the air of one conferring a great and shameful secret, he replies, “This one does not like deer stalking in the snow.”

Fair enough; Efri nods seriously. She’s never hunted deer but it’s probably difficult, especially in the snow. She stirs the sauce, the lumps of fish buffeted by the flat of her spoon, the smell making her mouth water.

She glances up at the cloud-blanketed sky. She asks, “When we’re in Winterhold, can we write a message to you?”

Khasir tilts their head further. “You can try,” they say. “But Khajiit may be too fast for the couriers. It may never arrive.”

“We’ll try,” Efri decides; when she glances as Sissel, she sees her nod. “We’ll figure out a way. I want to hear about where you go after!”

“About what other strays we find on the road?” Khasir jokes, but his smile is wide and shiny, nose scrunched up with it so whiskers flicker over his eyes. He leans over, takes Efri’s pot off the fire. “Good.”

Efri grins, even though they’re not looking and can’t see it.

“Go get Kazari,” they command, lifting the lid of the dish and moving one of the still-hot flat-cakes to a plate with their fingers. “This one will get a plate ready. He has to take over for Tsradaro, so he’ll eat quickly.”

Efri salutes (a habit she picked up from an Imperial courier they traded with on the road – she thinks it’s funny) and marches towards the tent.

(The food, when they eat it, is delicious.)

[funakounasoul]

Leigh has convinced me to move forward with my Tsukutabe "Elder Scrolls AU" (specifically ESO) ideas. This will be not just a fic, but occasional doodles!

So yes...um. behold! We got the Nord warrior, Tottigrid Spring-Sun, and the novice, Khajiit sorcerer (with a kitchen-themed staff for REASONS!), Yukirri-ko!

[lab-member004]

Some recipes from the official Elder Scrolls cookbook

[notgilderoylockhart]

Vegetable Soup

Weight 0.5 Value 5

Restore 1 point of Health per second for 720 seconds. Restore 1 point of Stamina per second for 720 seconds.

[tastesoftamriel]

The Shrewd Brew

Lillandril seasonal menu. Summerset wine pairings available with all food.

Starters

Barbecued bamboo clams, wrapped in Russafeld grape leaves with a spicy white wine sauce

Gryphon egg scramble, with Summerset sheep's cheese, wild mushrooms, and smoked mackerel

Shrewd salad, with local salad greens, seasonal fruit, Auridon feta, and garlic croutons. Finished with Russafeld red wine vinegar

Mains

Roast fellrunner, with herbed rice cooked in fellrunner fat

Lillandril swordfish steak, with a sweet mirin glaze and sour plum nori rice

Garlic and Summerset sheep's cheese gnocchi, with pine nuts and brown garlic butter sauce

Dessert

Summerset Rainbow Pie, with tonka bean ice cream

Smoked oolong and dark chocolate mousse, with jalapeño caramel sauce

Lillandril apple fritters, with whipped maple-apple butter

[acrowwithakeyboard]

Started to play Wyrmstooth!

Ieama, just met these people an hour ago: Lady what in the entire fuc-

[agoblincat]

Throwback to when I first got The Elder Scrolls book! These are from 2019 I believe?

Upper left pic shows “ash yams” and grilled leeks with a bowl of venison chili, upper right pic double baked potatoes, and the lower 2 pics are the “horker loaf” (also made with ground vension) with a side of salad!

[tamagotchikgs]

i want 2 play morrowind

[rosette-dragonborn]

It sure is tasty. But, good Aetherius, it's also strong! Maybe it's supposed to be served in very small glasses, because one drink gave me a headache. Definitely use skooma with caution.

I am so happy! For Christmas, I got The Elder Scrolls Official Cookbook. It contains classic recipes such as sweetrolls, Elsweyr fondue, S'jirra's famous potato bread, and even 'skooma' (a sweet alcoholic drink). This is the perfect gift for a nerd that likes to cook.