On Telkara and Matters of Appetite
Excerpt from "My Year in the Dunes"
The convoy arrived in Telkara late that evening, after the closing of the gates. There are no walls and no gate in any practical sense, but by custom, we had to wait to announce ourselves to the clerks. We were forced to camp with our beasts in the city's dusty Caravan District on the edge of the desert. It is a region entirely lacking in poetry.
Morning brought an unexpected reward after a night spent in hardship. Amid the bustle and the noise of the beast herders and the convoy drivers setting to the day's work, I found a food stall doing brisk business serving up the local breakfast foods. I was given a wooden bowl filled with a hearty grain porridge, bits of shredded, stewed meat, and a topping of fried onions. This, I was told, was called Marn; it is a staple of the everyday Telkaran's diet.
After my repast, I followed the local etiquette and returned my used bowl to the basket provided, before moving off in search of a Khaldaian tradition that Telkarans have elevated to an art form, the hot drink known as Sahir. I had first encountered the toasted grain beverage when the caravan had passed through Marunet, and I had found it quite fortifying, but nothing had prepared me for the strength and variety in this hot, somewhat bitter drink.
Sahir is properly served in a small clay cup, and it is dark as Zolgar's soul. The taste is pleasantly nutty, which I am told comes from the roasted barley and millet that it is brewed from. It is not exclusive to chill mornings at food stalls in Telkara. There is an entire indulgent culture surrounding the making and drinking of Sahir. Shaded public houses scented with jasmine have sprung up where one can sip a cup at their leisure, and come evening, one can partake of a larger, more dessert-like variation, known as Sahirah. Here, the Sahir is blended with Talmar milk, sweet honey or date syrup, and toasted spices of the most exotic varieties. Cardamom, anise, and even cinnamon, blended into a drink for a few coppers!
With the gates open for business at last, I moved into the city proper, well fortified for my adventure. Within minutes, I was enveloped in a mélange of scents and sounds as I entered the streets and courtyards of Kharif Nalgarim, the Nalgar Market. Already, trade was moving at a brisk pace, vendors peddling baskets of root vegetables, tables of glassware, and booths featuring the finest silks. There was an entire courtyard just for the exotic and mysterious spice trade. I wandered until the heat grew oppressive and my throat was parched.
A stand nearby was doing brisk business, selling some sort of beverage. I found myself willing to attempt almost anything to quench my thirst. I could not identify the dark amber liquid, but I gave it a cautious sip. The first taste was sharp, but then sweetness flooded in behind it. More refreshing than even water, it seemed. I drained my cup and went for a second one, better able to savor the nuances. The drink, I learned, is called Damar. It is a mixture of a reduction of dates and, of all things, vinegar. With my thirst satisfied, I began to think of food.
My nose led me to a stand heaped with warm flatbreads with various toppings, everything from nuts and honey, to fried onions and herbs. Out of curiosity, I tried one known as the "Spiced Ember Blend," as it sounded quite intriguing, and quickly discovered why it was called that. My mouth felt full of coals! I rushed to another Damar stand while the locals laughed and hooted, claiming that a child could eat that. One imagines some note of caution might not be unwarranted.
Unwilling to continue trying my luck with poetic flatbread names, I moved on until I found a booth selling wood skewers of meat and vegetables. This, I could at least recognize, and I ordered several to try. There was mutton with what appeared to be a dry salt and herb rub on it, and some chicken with a glaze that seemed reminiscent of Damar. That I had apparently spent the better part of the day drinking an elixir not entirely removed from a cook’s glaze wounded my pride somewhat, though the pairing itself was undeniably excellent.
Having finally had enough of the Market for one day, I moved on across the Bridge of Two Lights, spanning the massive Teshuran River that gives the city life. I secured lodgings in the Wayfarer's District, and continued on to the Temple Plaza. Here I wandered between vast marble temples, humble shrines, and quiet reflecting pools, all placed without regard for rank or size. I tried to imagine the Great Maionene Temple allowing lesser folk shrines to crowd its purview, and failed utterly.
The shadows were stretching long when I finally tired of looking at the various monuments. I moved on, wishing to be in the Performance District by evening. I was able to find a quick dinner on the way, plain flatbread sliced to make an edible pouch, and filled to bursting with lightly spiced meat, fried onions and herbs, with a vinegar drizzle. The local sharrek vinegar, made from wild desert fruits, is surprisingly versatile.
With a pouch in one hand, and a cup of Damar in the other, I entered the aptly named Street of Melody. Music swirled around me as I strolled past the many buskers performing along the way. I paused here and there to listen, dropping a coin or two to those who pleased me most. At the Court of the Word, home to the best poets that Telkara has been blessed with, I lingered. I even took a turn, myself, to recite my epic poem, The Lament of the Unwritten Horizon. I fear my audience did not speak Poliran very well, for I only got a small smattering of polite applause.
The night deepened, and many colored lanterns were lit throughout the quarter. I found myself near the Draught of Eternal Roses, although most guide books translate it as simply The Rose Brew. A music salon and Sahir house, it seemed the ideal place to rest and enjoy some confectionaries. I ordered the sweeter Sahirah drink, along with a popular dessert known as Zahriq, a rich cheese pastry soaked in sweet sauce. It was, I am told, among Telkara’s most favored indulgences, blessed by one of their many goddesses. I can at least understand why such claims are made.
I thought to finish the night with a small aperitif. The Rose Brew gets its name from a special rose liqueur drink that is served there, and so I ordered it. The drink was brought to me by a new waitress, a rather comely one, who asked me if she suited me, and then attempted to sit down at the table. I was mortified when I realized what it was that I had ordered! Such doings really should be reserved for a special district, so that a visitor is not left ignorant of the nature of such establishments.
Morning brought an unexpected reward after a night spent in hardship. Amid the bustle and the noise of the beast herders and the convoy drivers setting to the day's work, I found a food stall doing brisk business serving up the local breakfast foods. I was given a wooden bowl filled with a hearty grain porridge, bits of shredded, stewed meat, and a topping of fried onions. This, I was told, was called Marn; it is a staple of the everyday Telkaran's diet.
The Sahir House by Nightflyer0ne via Midjourney
Sahir is properly served in a small clay cup, and it is dark as Zolgar's soul.
Sahir is properly served in a small clay cup, and it is dark as Zolgar's soul. The taste is pleasantly nutty, which I am told comes from the roasted barley and millet that it is brewed from. It is not exclusive to chill mornings at food stalls in Telkara. There is an entire indulgent culture surrounding the making and drinking of Sahir. Shaded public houses scented with jasmine have sprung up where one can sip a cup at their leisure, and come evening, one can partake of a larger, more dessert-like variation, known as Sahirah. Here, the Sahir is blended with Talmar milk, sweet honey or date syrup, and toasted spices of the most exotic varieties. Cardamom, anise, and even cinnamon, blended into a drink for a few coppers!
With the gates open for business at last, I moved into the city proper, well fortified for my adventure. Within minutes, I was enveloped in a mélange of scents and sounds as I entered the streets and courtyards of Kharif Nalgarim, the Nalgar Market. Already, trade was moving at a brisk pace, vendors peddling baskets of root vegetables, tables of glassware, and booths featuring the finest silks. There was an entire courtyard just for the exotic and mysterious spice trade. I wandered until the heat grew oppressive and my throat was parched.
A stand nearby was doing brisk business, selling some sort of beverage. I found myself willing to attempt almost anything to quench my thirst. I could not identify the dark amber liquid, but I gave it a cautious sip. The first taste was sharp, but then sweetness flooded in behind it. More refreshing than even water, it seemed. I drained my cup and went for a second one, better able to savor the nuances. The drink, I learned, is called Damar. It is a mixture of a reduction of dates and, of all things, vinegar. With my thirst satisfied, I began to think of food.
Flatbread Vendor in Kharif Nalgarim by Nightflyer0ne via Midjourney
I tried one known as the "Spiced Ember Blend," as it sounded quite intriguing...
My nose led me to a stand heaped with warm flatbreads with various toppings, everything from nuts and honey, to fried onions and herbs. Out of curiosity, I tried one known as the "Spiced Ember Blend," as it sounded quite intriguing, and quickly discovered why it was called that. My mouth felt full of coals! I rushed to another Damar stand while the locals laughed and hooted, claiming that a child could eat that. One imagines some note of caution might not be unwarranted.
Unwilling to continue trying my luck with poetic flatbread names, I moved on until I found a booth selling wood skewers of meat and vegetables. This, I could at least recognize, and I ordered several to try. There was mutton with what appeared to be a dry salt and herb rub on it, and some chicken with a glaze that seemed reminiscent of Damar. That I had apparently spent the better part of the day drinking an elixir not entirely removed from a cook’s glaze wounded my pride somewhat, though the pairing itself was undeniably excellent.
Having finally had enough of the Market for one day, I moved on across the Bridge of Two Lights, spanning the massive Teshuran River that gives the city life. I secured lodgings in the Wayfarer's District, and continued on to the Temple Plaza. Here I wandered between vast marble temples, humble shrines, and quiet reflecting pools, all placed without regard for rank or size. I tried to imagine the Great Maionene Temple allowing lesser folk shrines to crowd its purview, and failed utterly.
I tried to imagine the Great Maionene Temple allowing lesser folk shrines to crowd its purview, and failed utterly.
The shadows were stretching long when I finally tired of looking at the various monuments. I moved on, wishing to be in the Performance District by evening. I was able to find a quick dinner on the way, plain flatbread sliced to make an edible pouch, and filled to bursting with lightly spiced meat, fried onions and herbs, with a vinegar drizzle. The local sharrek vinegar, made from wild desert fruits, is surprisingly versatile.
With a pouch in one hand, and a cup of Damar in the other, I entered the aptly named Street of Melody. Music swirled around me as I strolled past the many buskers performing along the way. I paused here and there to listen, dropping a coin or two to those who pleased me most. At the Court of the Word, home to the best poets that Telkara has been blessed with, I lingered. I even took a turn, myself, to recite my epic poem, The Lament of the Unwritten Horizon. I fear my audience did not speak Poliran very well, for I only got a small smattering of polite applause.
The Rose Brew by Nightflyer0ne via Midjourney
I thought to finish the night with a small aperitif. The Rose Brew gets its name from a special rose liqueur drink that is served there, and so I ordered it. The drink was brought to me by a new waitress, a rather comely one, who asked me if she suited me, and then attempted to sit down at the table. I was mortified when I realized what it was that I had ordered! Such doings really should be reserved for a special district, so that a visitor is not left ignorant of the nature of such establishments.
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