THE COOKBOOK TEST #0071: HEROES' FEAST: THE OFFICIAL D&D COOKBOOK

INSTALLMENT #0071 (FREE) 'INFINITE' 'POSSIBILITIES' / TIGHTEN IT UP, TURKEYS / CHERRYBREAD / 'THAT'S NO CHICKEN! IT'S A DEMON ... CHICKEN.'

Dear Readers,

Imagine my surprise when - after having test-driven the HEROES' FEAST FLAVORS OF THE MULTIVERSE cookbook and eaten the most impactful toothpaste-flavored gelatin of my lifetime [1] - I discovered that there was another, earlier Dungeons & Dragons cookbook floating around out there. 

For you see, while I had in fact reviewed "an" official D&D cookbook, there also was - staring out at me from the shelves of Games by James at the Rosedale mall - THE official D&D cookbook, called HEROES' FEAST.

I am a glutton for punishment [2], so I picked up D&D cookbook number two, brought it home, and immediately dove into one of the worst introductions to a book that I have ever read.

What is Dungeons and Dragons? For some, it's a dynamic narrative game with infinite possibilities; for others, an exciting tactical contest of strategy and wit. But for many, it is far more than a game: it's a way of life.

Oh no. Oh no no. The soulless marketing goblins have gotten into the book and embedded themselves in its very core. Even more so than Flavors of the Multiverse, Heroes' Feast immediately distinguishes itself by the thin but resilient layer of corporate communications slime that covers the entire framing concept. And get a load of this line, from later in the introduction:

Dungeons & Dragons is about far more than monsters or treasure: it's built on the foundations of community, friendship, and imagination.

No. Dungeons & Dragons is built on the foundations of cursed scimitars, blowgun traps, and heretical sects channeling demonic energies in order to revive long-dead warlocks residing within jade tombs locked within ice-bound mountain fortresses. 

We're not here for friendship, Random House/Wizards of the Coast/Hasbro/Ten Speed Press. We're here to drink basilisk blood out of a chalice made from the skull of an ancient hierophant, knowing full well that it's just as likely to kill us as it is to give us a permanent +4 to all saving throws against petrification. 

Eh, who am I kidding. It is kinda about friendship.

at your service,

James

HEROES' FEAST: THE OFFICIAL D&D COOKBOOK
KYLE NEWMAN, JON PETERSON, MICHAEL WITWER AND ADAM RIED 
TEN SPEED PRESS | 2020 | $35

Without retreading my Flavors of the Multiverse review too precisely, it's worth noting that Heroes' Feast shares the habit of regularly taking something fairly ordinary - let's say, for example, a chicken skewer - and calling it Fire-Spiced Abyssal Chicken Kebabs. Stuffed Egg-Battered Toast? French toast. Tavern "Steak"? A freakin' hamburger served on one bun for some reason, plus yogurt sauce. (Want to "kick up" this recipe with your own special twist? Add a second bun!!! Want to do it "wild style" and make it really delicious? Omit the yogurt sauce!!!)

That said, perusal of the book's recipes reveals reasonably sound concepts for hearty homemade meals, including some ambitious stretch recipes. While I wouldn't start with a Dungeons & Dragons cookbook in terms of making a serious bouillabaisse, I applaud them making what seems to be a pretty good effort. (And while applauding them, I would probably direct a curious new chef to check out Julia Child's version, or whatever Best Recipe is putting forth in terms of something that's going to be clear, clean, and ultimately successful.)

This isn't to say that the book looks bulletproof. Take the roast turkey recipe, creatively entitled "Hommlet Golden Brown Roasted Turkey." 

I cannot tell you how many whole turkeys I've successfully prepared - more than 50 for sure, probably fewer than 100. And two of the main things I've learned are always, always, always brine your bird (dry brine, to be precise), and don't trust the USDA because they're a bunch of cowards. 

The USDA demands a cooked temperature of 165 F. I usually go for 150 F and rising, knowing that carryover past the stall will get me pretty much all the way without making the bird sandpaper-dry. (Government standards for bird temp tend to be simplified to the point of overkill, to boot.)

Heroes' Feast? It calls for 185 F! Hey, Heroes' Feast, here's an even simpler recipe: Throw your unbrined turkey directly into a large campfire, and then come collect the ashes the next morning! No muss, no fuss!

CHERRYBREAD

Every year when the weather starts to get legitimately cold, I buy myself a $55 fruitcake made by monks who live way, way up the Keweenaw Peninsula in the UP portion of Michigan. And I always think, upon receiving it: "This may be the best $55 I've spent on myself this year."

Because while the cake is surely an expensive baked good, it's about three-and-a-half-pounds of bourbon-soaked joy that can be parceled out into 2-3 ounce portions whenever I have a cup of tea, which is just about every evening at this point.

Becca Dilley / Lake Superior Flavors

I've made a few stabs at making this fruitcake myself, but it's not a straightforward process - the closest recipe I've found is this one from Alton Brown, but my finished product is never as boozy or beautiful as its monk-made inspiration. I've come to accept this. Monks, you've won this one and you have earned my respect. And also my $55.

This insanely long-winded preamble is just to say: When a D&D cookbook touts a fruitcake, I'm going to make it.

The most fun and unnerving thing about the book's Cherrybread "cake" recipe is the ratio of cake to non-cake ingredients. By the time you're ready to pour your batter into your pan, you are looking at a giant clump of fruit and nuts only barely coated in an eggy batter. Fear not: It works out.

The resulting fruitcake is so completely unlike the fruitcake of my dreams that I'm not even angry about it. Were I to do it over again, I would reduce the amount of apricots (as the recipe below does), but otherwise this thing works for what it is: An incredibly dense collection of dried fruit and nuts held together competently by a brown sugar / molasses / egg-powered batter. 

Cherrybread is actually closer to a homemade power bar than a cake, per se - if I were hiking for hours and reaching for trail food, I might well want a hearty slice of this thing, which tastes obscenely calorific yet also wholesome and sustaining.

Recipe printed below on the off-chance that this thing sounds good to you - it's legitimately weird, and not in a bad way.

CHERRYBREAD

3/4 Cup golden raisins (I used non-golden raisins, no regrets)
2 Tbsp dark rum
3/4 Cup all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
Kosher salt
1/3 Cup brown sugar
1 Cup packed dried apricots, chopped roughly
3/4 Cup dried cherries or cranberries (I went with craisins, I'm from Wisconsin [3])
3 Cups walnut halves, lightly toasted and cooled  (I went 2:1 pecans to walnuts, as that's what I had on hand, no regrets here either)
2 Tbsp unsulphured molasses (not blackstrap)
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Combine the raisins and rum in a small microwave-safe bowl, and microwave 30-60 seconds until warm. Set bowl aside and let the raisins absorb the rum and soften, about 45-60 minutes. Drain excess rum.

Preheat the oven to 325 F with a rack in the middle of the pan. Butter a 9- by 5-inch loaf pan. Fold two sheets of parchment paper and lay one crossways in the pan, and the other lengthwise, and then butter the parchment. Trim edges but leave enough overhang that you can use the parchment to lift out the loaf.

In a large bowl, mix flour, baking powder, baking soda, 1/2 tsp salt, and brown sugar. Add apricots, cherries or craisins, and raisins and toss to coat well. Add walnuts and/or pecans and toss to combine.

In a small bowl, beat together eggs, molasses, and vanilla. Add to the fruit-nut mixture and combine thoroughly. Scrap the mixture into the prepared pan and smooth into an even, compact layer.

Bake for 45-60 minutes, rotating the pan 180 degrees halfway through. When cake is a deep golden brown and a skewer comes out clean, transfer cake to a wire rack and cool. Use the parchment paper to lift the loaf out of the pan. 

'THAT'S NO CHICKEN! IT'S A DEMON ... CHICKEN.'

One can only marvel at the sort of luminous, dreamlike, almost hallucinogenic imagination [4] that could conceive of a chicken recipe based not around a chicken, but rather a "bird-like fiend" called an "Abyssal Chicken" that is somewhat spicy. Dungeons and Dragons truly IS built on the foundation of imagination, as well as friendship, community, and the enhancement and expansion of existing IP. 

At any rate, what's the story with fire-spiced Abyssal chicken kebabs? They're chicken thighs briefly marinated in a spice rub, skewered, and then grilled or broiled, and then finished with a brushed-on molasses / hot sauce / lime juice concoction that is grilled briefly to finish.

I have four notes on this recipe, none of which are terribly caustic. The first is that it calls for hot sauce, and because it's painted on at the end of the process, if you go quite hot (as we did, with a bottle of Slap Ya Mama sauce) your finished dish will be quite hot, too. Frank's Red Hot might have been a better choice. 

The second is that the recipe calls for quite a bit of bacon, and I'm not entirely sure that it added much joy to the finished product, or justified its fuss and expense. Moreover, getting bacon to properly crisp up while packed onto a skewer with raw chicken, poblano peppers, and raw onions is a lost cause. So I've omitted it in my adaptation below.

The third is that any serious kebab-er (this includes me) knows that the ace move is skewering like with like, rather than making gorgeously varied kebabs filled with ingredients that cook at different rates. That said, with the exception of the bacon, the peppers, onions, and chicken really did finish at about the same time, and the skewers looked great.

Fourth and finally: If you do this in an oven rather than over a charcoal or gas grill (as I did), use your "low" broil setting if you have one. That's about 450 F if you want to do it manually. Instinct told me that going high broil on this would incinerate the outside of the chicken in particular without actually cooking the meat or the onions all the way through, and my instinct served me well.

These skewers were ultimately quite delicious, if spicy. My kids loved them (somewhat to my surprise) and I'd make them again. The combination of heat, molasses-derived sweetness, savory spice rub, chicken, and vegetables was appetizing and entertaining, and I think the overall method (rub, broil, finishing sauce, brief broil) would be adaptable and customizable for other spins on this concept. Three cheers for Abyssal chickens! As Gonzo would say: "Oh baby! Those chickens are HOT!"

FIRE-SPICED ABYSSAL CHICKEN KEBABS

3 Tbsp unsulphured molasses (not blackstrap)
1 Tbsp fresh lime juice
1 Tbsp hot pepper sauce (go medium-to-mild on this)
1 1/2 tsp chili powder
2 tsp brown sugar
1 tsp smoked paprika 
1 tsp onion powder
Kosher salt and ground black pepper
2 pounds of boneless, skinless chicken thighs, trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces
3 large poblano peppers, seeded and cut into 1 1/2-inch squares
2 red onions halved lengthwise and cut into 8 equal chunks
1 1/2 Tbsp olive oil
1/3 cup chopped fresh mint for garnish

Whisk together molasses, lime juice, and hot pepper sauce in a bowl.

In a large bowl, whisk together chili powder, brown sugar, paprika, onion powder, 2 tsp salt, and 2 tsp pepper to blend. Add the chicken and toss to coat.

Prepare a medium-hot fire in a charcoal grill, or preheat a gas grill on high for 15 minutes. Alternatively: get your oven up to 450 F or the "low broil" setting.

In a large bowl, toss poblanos and onions with olive oil, a pinch of salt, and a pinch of pepper. Thread skewers with chicken, onion, and poblano, and repeat to fill. You can double up your skewers if you want to make them easier to flip, but it's not necessary.

Grill the kebabs, turning every 3 minutes, until the onions and poblanos are tender and grill marked and the chicken is well browned and cooked through, about 12-15 minutes. Brush the kebabs all over with the molasses sauce and grill for about 1 minute on each side. Remove kebabs, let rest for 3 minutes, garnish with mint and serve hot. Rice or flatbread are both nice accompaniments. 

THE VERDICT ON HEROES' FEAST
(BUY IT / ***BORROW IT*** / SKIP IT / SCRAP IT)

The concept of this book is dumb, and the framing text is about as inspiring as a legal disclaimer on a new app that lets you share photos in return for microtransactions redeemable for yogurt coupons. 

On the other hand, I tried two recipes from the book and one worked pretty well and the other worked very well. Far from essential, but absolutely less ridiculous than you'd think.

[1] NOTE: Yes, "impactful" isn't a word. No, I will not stop using it, it is one of my favorite stupid words.

[2] NOTE: Oh no, clearly that should be the title of my memoir.

[3] NOTE: Wisconsin grows more cranberries than anywhere else, including entire foreign countries and the state of Massachusetts, which would have you believe that cranberries were originally invented in Dorchester.

[4] NOTE: R.I.P. David Lynch. I was never a super-fan, but have always regarded him as a consummate artist and genius of the first order. Twin Peaks struck a massive chord for me - the whole pie/coffee thing, of course, but just the idea that vibrating powerfully beneath the most ordinary-seeming people, events, and places there is a dangerous dreamlike energy that can either empower or consume us. Agent Dale Cooper is one of the very few characters in fiction that I personally identify with, there's something about his ability to seamlessly merge the practical with the spiritual that is very cool and worth emulating.