Well, that did it. My last twenty coins frittered away at market so I could eat bad local food for the next few days. I long for the sweet, sweet flavor of the cuisine brought in by Khajiiti peddlers. The things they do with their food!
Oh, I remember the scent of the delicious cakes, wearing fresh glaze as though it were polished armor. Even the meaty stews had a succulent, honeyed sweetness that caressed the tongue and brought shivers of delight. Just the memory makes me ravenous.
I suppose I'd better go boil up this pickled goose foot or whatever horrible thing it is the butcher sold me. Alas.