A visit to one of the great cities in the worlds of Dungeons & Dragons—Waterdeep, the Free City of Greyhawk, or even the uncanny Sigil, the City of Doors—overwhelms the senses. Voices chatter in countless different languages. The smells of cooking in dozens of different cuisines mingle with the odors of crowded streets....Scattered among the members of these more common races are the true exotics: a hulking dragonborn here, pushing his way through the crowd, and a sly tiefling there, lurking in the shadows with mischief in her eyes. A group of gnomes laughs as one of them activates a clever wooden toy that moves on its own accord.
The vast worlds of the multiverse are brimming with humanoid life of all shapes, sizes, and creeds. Yet despite the bountiful biological diversity of the planes, some groups are simply more common than others: namely humans, elves, dwarves, and halflings. Their sheer numbers set the culinary standard of the realms; but off the beaten path, a panoply of less prevalent cultures cut their own paths through the world of food. From the proud dragonborn and the outcast tiefling to the steadfast warforged and the angelic aasimar, these rare folk represent vibrant and powerful cultures that make their mark in the worlds where they may be found.
Frequently referred to as "uncommon," these humanoids can blend into the multicultural cosmopolitan cities of the planets they populate. However, they are often confronted by harmful social stigmas in the outlying hamlets of some of the more xenophobic communities, which even go so far as to deem them "monsters." In such archaic places, even groups as ubiquitous as dwarves and halflings can be met with nervous xenophobia. While the great urban centers of the multiverse worlds, such as Waterdeep, Sharn, or Greyhawk, readily welcome residents from far-off lands, their metropolitan cultures are simply too entrenched to accept much outside influence. Without a proper community in place, often all that exists of these uncommon cultures is what each solitary individual brings with them. And while human cultures receive many outside newcomers, it is rare to see a human adventurous enough to live among these more remote civilizations.
Cultural dissimilarities create unjust disadvantages, and to make things worse, basic physical differences, such as the size and shape of abodes, furniture, and domestic items, are common significant challenges facing those that wade into human-centric civilization. The broad-winged aarakocra, accustomed to a large nest, might struggle for a good night's sleep on an inn's down-bedded mattress, while reclusive giant-kin such as firbolgs or goliaths, may find it near impossible to comfortably dine at a human-made table.
Uncommon Tastes
From rustic campfires to the courts of kings, these very same differences apply to all matters of the kitchen; be it cooking utensils, cookware, raw ingredients, and even portions. For less common groups, finding familiar cuisine on a pub menu is incredibly rare if not impossible. Only the most cultured and enlightened humans, elves, and halflings experiment with these unique dishes and their uncommon preparation techniques. However, any adventurous eater is sure to be rewarded with delicious options that excite the senses. Tiefling hellhound marrow might require a jaunt to the nine hells, but it's worth it; whereas the dragonborn delicacy of flambé crispy halfling flesh would surely land you into trouble in most towns (no pain, no gain). And the triton's live seafood bouillabaisse surely isn't for everyone.
The meals of these humanoids are far more than merely edible and nutritious—they often exhibit an almost alchemical explosion of flavors and textures, despite the fact they usually comprise commonplace ingredients. A chef with a cultured palate might be inspired to incorporate some of these ingredients, or utilize foreign preparation techniques, to create beautiful and novel culinary hybrids.
Nonetheless, it is essential to look past differences and toward what unites them. These humanoids usually occupy the very same ecosystems as other groups; they hunt the same woods, fish the same waters, and harvest the same plains. While territorial boundaries may put them at odds, the core shopping lists often remain essentially the same. But also, a word of warning: Some foods, spices, and ingredients from these uncommon groups can seriously injure, kill, or curse a humanoid. So, be wary, fair traveler (especially of the tiefling fiendspice and fire fruit)! It is best to navigate these distinctive menus with a mind that is as much cautious as it is open.
While it would be impossible to analyze every culture and creed within the vast multiverse, the following represent what you might call the most common uncommons, each with their own distinct culinary traditions and notable contributions.
Dragonborn: Medium Rare
The dragonborn philosophy around food is a simple one: kill it, grill it, eat it. Even though their exact ancestral heritage is open for debate, one thing that is agreed upon is that they are closely related to dragons (or in some tales descended directly from draconic gods) and their tastes are generally consistent with dragon fare: meat—charred, smoky, or raw—garnished by occasional grains and vegetables. However, in stark contrast to their more solitary dragon cousins, dragonborn are humanoids who live in tight-knit, clan-based societies that prioritize honor, conduct (evil or good), and the welfare of the community above all things. As a result, dragonborn meals are communal affairs steeped in a surprising amount of formality and tradition. Huge family-style platters of assorted meats adorn fireproof, stone tables; while in some clans, dragonborn servers walk the feast halls with carving knives and heavy skewers of grilled or barbecued meats, serving up veritable buffets of generous savory chops.
The dragonborn's innate drive for self-improvement and excellence permeates all aspects of their culture, including its dining and cuisine. Accordingly, most dragonborn chefs have spent their entire lives in the pursuit of excellence in the culinary arts, and when it comes to meat, they've got it mastered, whether prepared cooked or raw. But always make sure to ask what's on the plate before you try it; in many dragonborn cultures, humanoid meat is not "off the table."
Gnome: The Forgotten Folk
The planets of the multiverse are teeming with apex predators and towering, war-hungry humanoids, but gnomes, the most petite of the pervasive folk, thrive by embracing their emotions and harnessing their curiosity. Gnomes are nimble and clever, with an uncanny ability to blend into any environ, allowing them to skillfully avert the attention of would-be aggressors. They are inquisitive tinkerers at heart who have quietly managed to coexist with the taller bipedal kind, often benefitting from their hubris. Although gnomes can live for centuries, they embrace each day to the fullest, finding comfort in displaying their broad spectrum of emotions. They are resourceful and thoughtful, especially when it comes to cuisine where they skillfully maximize natural and readily available ingredients into small-portioned, serviceable dishes.
Gnomes are social eaters, favoring sit-down, multicourse meals, yet they display limited variety in their recipes usually due to a lack of local availability. They take their holidays and traditions seriously, planning accordingly for proper revelry, feasting, and dancing. With feet as dexterous as their tongues, gnomes love to let loose, especially in the company of their compatriots. As with many humanoids, gnome cultures cherish regional variances; and with each of these differences come diverse cultures and palates.
Rock gnomes, typically identified by their oversize proboscises (thought to enhance their taste buds), are the most common and familiar of the gnomes. They approach life with an easy demeanor and a graceful adaptability, traits prevalent in their culinary customs as well. Unfussy by nature, they are just as comfortable dining on human stew or an elven fritto misto as they are on goat cheese-stuffed mushrooms.
Their brethren, the mysterious deep gnomes, are not. Svirfneblin, as they are known, are the most self-reliant and aloof of their kind, and often suffer an undeserved ill reputation because of their reclusiveness. Yet, these denizens of the Underdark are by no means evil or malicious, and they fuel their relentless pursuit of gemstones with a healthy yet simple diet of fresh fish, insects, and fungi.
The tinker gnomes, also known as Minoi, are almost exclusively found on the planet Krynn. Their devout commitment to invention is a manifestation of all gnomes' innate curiosity, but taken to the extreme. Experimentation, often without thesis, is a recipe for disaster as well as great progress. This has sparked inspired techniques in food preparation (baking and sous vide techniques) and preservation. Gnomes of the forest will walk a far simpler path, shunning the outside world (even fellow gnomes) and embracing all that nature has to offer. They are the shyest of the gnomes, and their self-imposed isolation has most certainly informed their eating habits. Proficient hunters and gatherers, forest gnomes are extremely sensitive to their ecosystem, thriving on roots and vegetables and preferring to prepare their food raw (meat excluded) and thoughtfully.
Gnomes feast and drink with aplomb, albeit with less variety than the others. Sweets and sugars are a rarity in the gnome diet, while spices and sauces are used sparingly, if at all. Traditional dairy products are usually not readily available, but some gnomes raise goats, which can yield butter, milk, and cheese. Yeast, both in bread and beverage making, is extremely uncommon. Gnomes do, however, excel at preparing meats and simple stews, as well as at foraging for fruits, vegetables, and various fungi.
Tieflings: Infernally Bold
Like a runaway applecart in Waterdeep, tiefling dishes can take you by surprise and knock you over with their bold flavors. Sometimes referred to as a "race without a home," tieflings are a culture without a unified cuisine. Flavorings and spices take precedence over the proteins and produce that they season. Because all tieflings previously came from different groups prior to being cursed with the "blood of Asmodeus" and converted into their present devil-like states, their ingredients and dishes—which range from noodles, soups, and stews to vegetables, meats, and everything in between—are as varied as any throughout the planes. What changed when they were claimed by the Lord of the Nine Hells, however, was a physiological shift of their palates and preferences. An area not known for its cuisine, the Nine Hells traditionally serves blackened, boiled, and bland foods, not meant to be enjoyed by its inhabitants. As terrestrial beings, tieflings typically rebel against these flavorings and crave the opposite: salty, sweet, tangy, and, most of all, spicy foods—robust flavors that cut through their charred taste buds and make them feel vigorous and alive.
Of course, some tieflings are more in tune with their infernal inclinations than others, which not only influences their conduct but also their food choices. For these tieflings, raw meat, marrow, blood, and sometimes even minerals and coal are the preferred menu, while mysterious magical concoctions smelling of sulfur, ash, and oil may quench their thirst. Regardless of their alignments, it would be a mistake to pre-judge these sometimes unfamiliar foods and eating habits. Tieflings know flavor, which can make them great chefs—provided you're willing to trust them enough to serve you.
Half-Orcs: The Palate of Gruumsh
Half-orcs are the ultimate scavengers and foragers in the multiverse and the diversity in their diets proves it. Half-orcs are a traditionally nomadic people who have brought to the table flavors from both human and orc cultures. They are adroit omnivores who can find food in virtually any environment, but maintain a strong inclination toward meat, preferring it greatly to fruits and vegetables. That said, nuts and produce often make their way into their diets alongside various fungi, grubs, and insects. Practically nothing is off the table for a half-orc as long as the food meets two criteria: it fills you up and is worthy of a warrior.
In deference to their one-eyed warrior god Gruumsh, the true appetite of most half-orcs is adventure. However, half-orcs blessed with the proper time and resources will go to the trouble of cooking and seasoning their meats, salting their grubs, and even frying or drizzling chocolate upon those squirmy insects. Their non-picky palate and their generally jovial demeanor make them ideal dinner guests; but make sure to double, no triple, your order at the local butcher: at a muscular six to seven feet tall, half-orcs can eat, and eat big.
Arkhan the Cruel's Flame-Roasted Halfling Chili
Meat for the meat god! Understandably, the preparation of halfling is frowned upon in many realms, but their consumption is an important part of dragonborn cuisine. However, this recipe is rumored to be the personal one of Arkhan the Cruel, notorious disciple of the five-headed dragon goddess, Tiamat, and thus worthy of inclusion. You won't catch this ferocious and cunning Oathbreaker Paladin eating anything less than the finest halfling flesh in his chili, but the spices work wonderfully with any meat substitute you choose—in this instance, spicy ground turkey, or abyssal chicken, which is simmered for hours with kidney beans, allspice, cloves, cayenne, and a Vecna's handful of cocoa powder. This filling meat sauce can be consumed by the bowl or scooped on top of other beast (meat) or noodles.
"Orc" Bacon
No, it isn't made from orcs—but for orcs. Half-orcs find this delectable snack quite to their taste, as do the goliaths of Eberron and a few game humans and halflings. It is said that a half-orc named Mazmorras was the first to discover this pungent recipe for cured pork strips, which you can practically taste from twenty yards away. Sometimes called "the Pork of Gruumsh," orcs flavor it with black pepper and garlic; a halfling might instead smooth off the edge with some maple syrup. Experienced adventuring parties venturing into orc lands know that dropping a bundle of bacon can throw pursuers off their trail, and orcs have even been known to barter with humans who carry it. For best results, try using Thayan Doomvault Swine Run pork—it has the right potency.
Fire-Spiced Abyssal Chicken Kebabs
There is no denying that a tiefling's distinct infernal heritage looms heavily over their identity. Some reject their unholy origins outright, but many proudly live in harmony with it, open to exploring all aspects of their unique traits. This open-minded approach has yielded a bold, unfettered diet that is often unapproachable and sometimes dangerous to the uninitiated. One dish they have a knack for is fire-spiced abyssal chicken (a bird-like fiend native to the Abyss and Avernus with a taste similar to fatty chicken), or fire-spiced anything for that matter since their natural resistance to heat has granted them an enhanced ability to handle spice as well. Flame-licked skewers of meat are dipped in a spicy, pepper glaze to create these kebabs with some serious kick.
Hardbuckler Stew
If you ever walk the streets of the walled gnome town of Hardbuckler, located just a few weeks east of Baldur's Gate by caravan, there's a good chance that you'll miss the real city altogether. While quaint country cottages connected by narrow footpaths crowd the surface, the true action is in their generous cellars, which can extend as many as three stories below the ground. Linked by tunnels that serve as underground thoroughfares, gnome residents run shoppes, inns, and taprooms out of these cozy, hearth-lit subterranean spaces. It's here you'll find the town's culinary specialty: Hardbuckler stew. Typically prepared with potatoes, mushrooms, lichens, turnips, and a miscellany of meats, from fowl and goats to shrews and voles, this earthy and aromatic stew hits all the right notes. While every establishment in this elaborate undercity will tell you that they prepare it "the right way," this particular version of the recipe calls for lamb, finely chopped for small gnome mouths.
Twice-Baked Cockatrice Wings
The tabaxi are long-tailed, feline humanoids known for their innately inquisitive and mercurial spirit, as well as agile hunting prowess. Also referred to as "Jaguar People" or "Leopard People" depending on their build and fur color, the tabaxi cat people of Maztica are particularly dangerous predators, but one still wonders how often they had the occasion to prey on cockatrices. Tabaxi are extremely particular about how they prepare their birds, and there is no denying that these extra-crispy chicken wings dusted with a zesty dry rub will please even the most finicky eater. The recipe is a jealously guarded secret and tabaxi can't keep their paws off them.
Braised Lamb
This rustic recipe for braised lamb is inspired by the culinary traditions of the Minmax half-orcs, a reclusive tribe that hails from the outskirts of Vaasa in the desolate Cold Lands of northeast Faerûn. They are known for extreme proficiency in combat, but mediocrity (or less) in just about everything else. Although several orc elders live among Minmax people serving as healers, shamans, and storytellers, the clan, led by the fearsome and wise Kalatuur Minmax, has embraced an atypical approach to food and politics. Similarly, their palate ranges greatly, from subtler human fare such as fish, cheese, and bread to the orcish desire for big-game meat. But this schism yields unexpected culinary benefits, including a profound approach to meat preparation that meshes distinct orcish flavors with human techniques. The Minmax clan prides itself on its battle prowess equally as much as this lamb braise, unparalleled in texture and flavor.
Deep Gnome Trillimac Pods
If it's the rare you're seeking, you've come to the right place. Trillimac fungus is among the most precious and temperamental plants of the Underdark, and only the deep gnomes of the City of Blingdenstone seem to know the secret of its cultivation and preparation. Traditionally prepared by cleaning, soaking, and drying the trillimac stalk, this subterranean staple makes a tasty sponge-like loaf that can last for weeks on the shelf—a popular item for trade or sale at the subterranean market of Mantol-Derith. What you won't find at the market, however, is trillimac pasta, which the distrustful svirfneblin keep only to themselves. Made with nutty trillimac stalk flour, this otherworldly pasta is filled with an earthy ragout made from the tops of this rare plant. One taste will have you foraging the Underdark for seconds. If you have trouble sourcing real trillimac pasta (and you will), thin wheat dough wrappers will do, but don't even think about substituting out the trillimac-top ragout.
Surrogate Steaks
The multiverse is a stranger place than many dare imagine. In a bizarre ruin near the Barrier Peaks of Oerth, otherworldly humanoids had stocked their pantries with all manner of sustenance sealed within clear airtight pouches. When the sole survivor of an expedition to that cursed place returned to Greyhawk, she claimed to have made the journey home eating the curious meat she found there. After much puzzling by local alchemists over the remaining stock she carried, they determined it was not a meat at all but a curious vegetable compound seasoned to deliver the essence of meat. Inspired by this discovery, some bold chefs began experimenting with their own approaches to this "surrogate steak," a process eventually perfected by high elves relying on soy, barley, and cocoa butter.
Barovian Butterscotch Pudding
After a delectable wolf steak, some buttery garlic bread, and a few glasses of Red Dragon Crush wine, nothing satisfies the sweet tooth like the Blue Water Inn's famous Barovian butterscotch pudding. This dish is as sweet and smooth as a tall chalice of owlbear milk. But a few pieces of advice for those who seek to traverse the ghostly mists of Barovia to dine in their establishments: (1) return home before nightfall, especially during the full moon; (2) don't spend the night at Castle Ravenloft, no matter how much the host wants you to stay; and (3) avoid dream pies and Purple Grapemash No. 3 by the Wizard of Wines vineyard at all costs!
Fried Fingers
A dish popularized by the lizardfolk of Saltmarsh, where it was commonly prepared with humanoid parts instead of poultry, these succulent, breaded strips give a new meaning to the term "finger food." Today, this recipe is served throughout all civilized parts of the multiverse, featuring pulled strips of locally sourced fowl, rolled in an unconventional seasoned breading, baked crisp, and served with dwarven mustard, tiefling tomato-molasses, or a warm plum dipping sauce. If you do have occasion to try the original, fatty halfling fingers work best.
Bytopian Shepherd's Bread
Perhaps no cuisine among the planes could be more otherworldly than that of the aasimar, the far-flung descendants of celestials. But even aasimar are half-human, and their need for mortal sustenance is why many believe the bread recipe common in the Twin Paradises is ultimately aasimar in origin. This spiced bread, served in thick slices, is made from grains imbued with grated carrots and rich chunks of almond. It makes a delicious day-starter for the hardy shepherds who work the pastoral valleys of Bytopia. Bold adventurers, take note: If you ever find yourself in possession of the rare herb known as shiftspice, sprinkle a liberal pinch into the batter to ensure that each loaf yields a totally unexpected flavor.