The Tavern Menu: Telling Stories Through Food and Drink
The first thing most adventurers ask when they step into a tavern isn’t, “What’s the political situation in the capital?” It’s “What’s on tap?” But sometimes, those questions aren’t so different.
The tavern menu might seem like set dressing, but it can reveal you a lot about your world. What people eat and drink—and how they talk about it—can reveal history, politics, trade, superstition, and pride. You don’t need a full recipe list, but a few thoughtful touches can turn a tavern from a flat backdrop into something that truly speaks.
Names on the Menu
Think about the dish names on your menu. A bowl of stew is fine. A bowl of Hangman’s Mercy? Now we’re paying attention.
What’s behind that name? Maybe it was once the only thing served to prisoners before execution. Maybe it’s so spicy it feels like a punishment. Or maybe the name’s just a joke the barkeep finds funnier than anyone else.
Names carry memories. They reflect what people want to remember, or can’t manage to forget. A tavern might serve Rebel’s Red, a sour cherry liquor made in honour of a failed uprising. Or Foundling Pie, named for the orphanage that once stood where the tavern now does. Or Salt King’s Brew, a dark ale said to be made with water from the drowned palace beneath the bay.
Politics on a Plate
Food is rarely neutral. Certain ingredients may be taxed, banned, or reserved for nobility. Maybe eggs are a delicacy after a magical plague wiped out most of the fowl population. Maybe all shellfish are considered sacred, but one bold tavern near the docks fries them up anyway.
A dish might once have been outlawed, and maybe people still order it quietly, or under another name. It might be legal now, but it’s still eaten with a touch of defiance.
Menus can mark regional pride and rivalries, too. The tavern might proudly offer Bitterroot Dumplings (The Proper Kind), taking a not-so-subtle jab at the neighbouring town that prepares them all wrong (boiled instead of baked? Scandalous!)
House Specials and Local Legends
Every tavern has something it’s known for. Maybe it’s a drink no one has managed to finish in five generations. Maybe it’s a pie with a different filling every day, based on a secret calendar only the cook understands. Maybe it’s the Tallowman’s Supper, which arrives at the table still steaming and occasionally twitching.
These signature items give the tavern a sense of identity, and they let you hint at local customs, fears, or in-jokes. If the regulars all eat something called Ghost Bread, but outsiders never touch it, what’s the story? Is it superstition? Taste? A tradition rooted in grief?
Who’s Eating?
Perhaps the menu changes depending on who walks through the door. Maybe there’s a regular menu and a secret one, only revealed after a certain password or coin. Maybe the locals all get one version and strangers another. Maybe you only get to order the Crimson Stew if you prove you can stomach the Starter of Thorns first.
Menus might shift with the time of day, the phase of the moon, or what was caught in the marsh that morning. They can reveal taboos (no meat on moonless nights), status (traders get better cuts), or hidden allegiances (everyone who orders the saffron broth ends up in the same rebellion).
Worldbuilding Through the Wine List
What’s brewed locally, and what has to be smuggled in? Is a certain wine only made by the monks in the mountains, blessed by a sun god and aged in gold-trimmed casks? Is there a cheap rotgut called King’s Mercy that the barkeep waters down, and no one ever questions?
Maybe there's a seasonal cocktail brewed with glowing berries that only bloom during a week-long festival. Maybe ale tastes different depending on which side of the river it's brewed, and patrons argue about it endlessly.
Food as Storytelling
A tavern’s menu is more than a list of dishes. It’s a catalogue of the world’s history, politics, geography, fears, and joys. It’s a love letter to old traditions and a mirror to the world outside. And every item on that menu has the potential to be a story in itself.
So if your characters find themselves in a smoky little inn on the edge of the map, let them open the menu. Let them squint at the chalkboard. Let them order the Widow’s Cure, even if the last time someone did, every regular in the tavern fell silent, the bard stopped mid-song, and the barkeep muttered "You shouldn’t have done that."
If this has set your imagination off on a crazy tangent, I’ve just released a trio of printable zines you might love.
One-Page Settings is a growing series of zero-fluff, one-page locations designed for GMs who improvise and storytellers who like a strong sense of place.
The first three zines are out now:
Taverns – strange regulars, cold hearths, and third ales left untouched
Markets – midnight glades, echoing tunnels, and a stall that no one finds twice
Harbours – glowing tides, silent piers, and bells that ring on their own
Each zine contains 7 ready-to-use locations, complete with atmosphere, characters, and adventures waiting to be had.
You can find them all HERE.
Which animals are raised for meat? For wool? For milk? For draft animals?
Sheep were the milch animals in many areas in medieval times. Breeding for milk does bad stuff for wool, and vice versa.
Horsemeat has the problem that horses are inefficient ways of turning grass into meat. Better to raise cows for meat and horses for draft -- once you get the horse collar right and stop using oxen.
I absolutely love this approach!
When I write, I like to snack on the same food as my characters : if I'm hosting a TTRPG, I like to cook a regional specialty for the party. I guess that's why I have a whole bookcase of recipe books!