By Tavern Wench Catherine Weingarten
This fyne Frigg’s Day eve I went with my peasant posse to McGillicudy’s Inne. I had hoped to partake of the gruel, but the cook saw I was a peasant and therefore was unable to be served.
Unfortunately, I was commissioned on threat of torture to write this foode review so I shall have to go off the cuff.
Harmony of flavours. I ended up watching the locals eating from afar. A fair lady was eating something that appeared to be a porridge and it smelled like beef. She possessed a fyne smile and seemed to enjoy partaking in it. So although I was not able to acquire any foode, I shall give the flavours a high rating. A
Service. On ye downside, we were told to leave on account of our social status. On ye upside, in exchange for writing this glowing review we did not suffer any bodily harm from the wait staff like we typically do. B+
Cleanliness. My peasant posse and I were able to acquire some delicious crumbs from the ground near the privy, and they tasted like the sweetest of honey bread. A-
But yes, frequent this fyne inne unless thou art a peasant and thou, as I, art scum and do not deserve to be served anyway.