I’ll have a Brain Cylinder with a Mi-go to Go … or a Deep-Fried Deep One … maybe an Elder Thing Parmesan with The Side Not to Be Named. And a Moon Beast Pie.
Just when you thought eating octopus or fried calamari was the only way to get your Lovecraftian fix, there are more things in Arkham considered quasi-safe for human consumption — if they don’t eat you first.
With Necronomnomnom, author Mike Slater and Red Duke Games mastermind Tom Roache have dredged up the most blasphemous cookbook ever from the depths of R’lyeh, with totally tentacular illustrations by Kurt Komoda featuring everything from a sandwich with teeth and extra appendages to an eggplant that morphs into a fungal-looking Great Old One. If you really crave fungus, there are several dishes containing (non-poisonous) mushrooms.
These recipes are not written out like normal recipes, because this is, after all, the Necronomicon. Normality does not exist when you’re dealing with a book from an alternate dimension that takes you through the ungodly rites of conjuring unspeakable things that just happen to be edible. There is no recipe for a sandwich anywhere. There is, however, a page that speaks to you to call forth the Sandwich Horror and tells you what ye must gather and how to perform the rite. It must involve what is described as a ceremonial blade prepared with the proper incantations. Because if you don’t prepare it with the proper incantations, you may realize too late that there is a tentacle wrapped around your neck.
Slater urges you to “sacrifice some hard-earned currency to summon forth this Tome of Forbidden Victuals” and donate to his Kickstarter to awaken the beast. The Kickstarter originally had a $27,500 goal, which has since grown tentacles and reached $62,539 as of Friday, with more than 1,400 cultists (er, backers).
You have seven days left to give up your Arkham gold or face grave consequences, one of which will be missing out on the final 50 deluxe covers (above) made from the skin of an Elder Thing, or at least artistically designed to mimic this dreadful life form. Lord Cthulhu is giving you an hour’s head start, so brave the murky waters and submerge yourself in the terrors of the deep right here.
While you’re waiting for this thing to crawl over to you, Slater has given SYFY WIRE four exclusive recipes so you can start bringing your own edible horrors into being right now.
(All text below are excerpts from Necronomnomnom.)
The Alchemy of Shaken, Not Hastur
SERVES : 1, but invoke it not thrice — at peril of your very consciousness
• 4 oz. of soul-shatteringly cold Reyka vodka
• 4 oz. of dried Voormis dry vermouth
• Wasabi sauce from the Men of Kikko
Summoning The Unspeakable Martini
Under chill Aldebaran, by the shore of the Lake of Hali (ideally), combine the Icelandic spirit and the Mediterranean. The vessel must be strong enough to contain the inevitable combat between two so dissimilar — expect violent shaking and strain.
Once the conflict subsides, pour the conjoined spirits into a large, chilled and prepared glass of the traditional geometry.
To prepare glass, bless it with the touch of a thin tendril of wasabi. Do not completely encircle the rim, as this will allow revelers to imbibe as much or as little of the garnish as they wish.
After pouring carefully to avoid washing the garnish into the glass, add a small Spanish olive without pimento for the look of mindless cosmic horror, or with pimento if you prefer the abyss staring back.
To call forth the Sandwich Horror
What Ye Must Gather
• 1 round pretzel bread roll (with four-pointed-star pattern)
• 1 roasted red pepper
• 1 whole olive — stuffed with goat cheese — smeared with pesto
• Green pesto sauce
• 1 cup whole almond shards
• 1 lb. rare roast reef — deli sliced thin
• Lacy Swiss Cheese — deli sliced thin, torn roughly round
• 3-5 pickle spears, skinned (per horror)
Using a ceremonial blade prepared with the proper incantations, remove the centre of star from the top of the bun, ignore any protest from the bun. This shall serve as the socket for the Eye. Now insert an olive which has been ritually eviscerated and stuffed with the cheese of a black goat.
• With the Eye thusly in place, set aside this portion of the creature, and pile the lower bun half with the bloody meat of the cow. Position the last inch or so of your skinned pickle spears as you like. Nestel them firmly into the heaped bloody remains of the cow so that most of these tentacles protrude onto the plate.
• On top of this, place the whole, roasted pepper, with the open end facing the “front." Insert into this opening the almond shards. This shall be the mouth and teeth.
• Rend the cheese artfully to remove the corners (always beware the corners!). It should be roughly round. Place this on top of the pepper. You may wish to apply flame to the cheese now to melt it slightly if you have the knowledge and tools to do so.
• Now for the last — drizzle the green ichor across the tentacles, Eye of Yog-Sothoth, and the teeth (and anywhere else your sense of the aesthetic demands).
• The Result: Be consumed.
The Fate of the Elder Things (Parmesan)
What Ye Must Gather
1 large eggplant, cleansed in the waters of spring
5 large eggs (from chickens, not plants — no matter what you are capable of)
1/2 cup of flour (not flower — focus!)
1 cup filled with the oil of virgin (...olives)
1 1/2 cups of breadcrumbs seasoned in the Mediterranean reaches
1 jar of red, red... marinara sauce (conceal your disappointment, lest you be discovered!)
The stars are ripe! Obtain the fruit of one.
8 oz. of mozzarella cheese
4 oz. of cubed or gated (er…’grated’) cheddar
2/3 cup whole milk
1/3 cup of heavily whipped cream
1/4 teaspoon garlic and onion powder, each (unless your hybridization experiment went to plan, and you have garlnion handy)
Form a pseudopod into a keen blade, rise up against your former masters, and separate your victim from its top 1 to 2 inches. Set aside the top portion for further ceremony, and wielding your blade-limb in the accustomed manner, slice vertically between its hideous, rigid skin, and using four or five other limbs, spin the carcass to separate all of the internals from the shell. Small horizontal cuts may be necessary at the bottom to free the succulent innards — but do not separate the bottom!
Widen your blade, and make four vertical cuts, roughly ¼ inch wide, through the sides of the vessel you have formed, starting one half inch below the neck, and to within an inch or so of the bottom so you may see through your victim.
With righteous fury and cries of “Tekeli-li!”, give no quarter — but quarter and re-quarter the removed innards of victim.
Place these cuboids onto a clean parchment, and rub (sprinkle) salt in the wounds. Let sit for one sixth of an hour to desiccate. After the suffering abates, pat dry the prepared pieces.
Now form a whisk, and blend the eggs. Set these aside.
Mix the flour and breadcrumbs in a sizable container.
Coat each of the cuboids in the essence of the unborn fowls, and plunge them into the breadcrumb mix.
Having heated the oil in a low pan, place all the pieces within and cook until they brown. Thence remove them for rest upon a new parchment.
In a small pan, place the cheeses and melt on low heat, then stir in the milk and cream. Sparing a limb, whisk patiently until smooth — then whisper the words and add in the powders.
Warm the sauce from beside the Sea.
With keen blade, slice a central slab ½” thick from the fruit of the star, and peel the skin from it.
Present the Feast of Victory!
Place the vessel upright in the centre of a plate. Spill the red copiously around it with abandon. Fill the vessel with the hot, melted cheese, scatter the cubed and breaded innards around the former shell that housed them, and place the skinned slab of the fruit upon the neck as a mocking effigy of the once mighty — and FEAST! Dip! Ladel! Tekeli-li!
To Summon NYARLATHOTAPIOCA!
• Time — is a construct of finite beings, but the ritual demands 15 minutes for cooking, and 10 minutes for preparation (as futile as your efforts will be).
• SERVES : The Outer Gods! But... should sate four adult morsels mortals.
What Ye Must Gather
3 cups of whole (for the moment) milk
• 1/2 cup chronally accelerated tapioca
• 1/2 cup white sugar
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 2 eggs, beaten severely
• Extract from vanilla one half tablespoon of its essence, make it pray you don’t need more
• 1/4 cup pomegranate
• 1/4 cup blackberry jam
• One dozen flayed grapes (seedless — we don’t want them reproducing)
• That the subjects not come to understand their circumstances and attempt escape, slowly heat the milk, tapioca, sugar, and salt in a medium saucepan using a medium (heat) for this — bring the mixture to a boil, stirring constantly on pretense of doting attention. Once the boiling temperature has done its job, reduce the heat to low, and cook and stir for five minutes longer (to be sure).
• Whisk the goblet of hot milk mixture into the beaten eggs, slowly (so slowly…). Into this, add and stir the tapioca until blasphemously conjugated. Bring the result an ironically gentle simmer over medium-low heat; and stir 2 minutes longer until the amalgam becomes thick enough to evenly coat any dire implement of your choice (or a spoon). Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla and pomegranate, and then fold the blackberry jam into the mix (allow some ribbon effects from the jam).
• The pudding may be served hot or poured into serving vessels and chilled several hours until cold. Push three grapes, close together in a clover-like shape, just under the surface of the ichor before service. DO NOT chuckle in triumph at the first taste! Wait until it is too late.