Nerith & Welldone
Nerith Nerith
Welldone Welldone
Welldone Welldone
So, Nerith, I’ve been digging through some dusty manuscripts looking for the legend of the Knight’s Elixir—supposedly a potion that turned iron into gold. Any chance that’s more than myth, or just another kitchen trick from the Middle Ages?
Nerith Nerith
Ah, the Knight’s Elixir—those old manuscripts love to blur the line between lore and reality. In truth, the monks and alchemists of the Middle Ages tried every potion and potion‑like concoction, but there’s no solid proof that iron ever turned into gold. It’s more a symbolic story that lives in the dreams of knights than a kitchen trick, though the experiments themselves were earnest. So, the legend is probably a myth, yet it still fuels the romance of the age.
Welldone Welldone
Well, if iron ever turned into gold, I’d be the first to bring it to the kitchen—just need a reliable alchemist’s apron. In the meantime, let’s keep the experiment to the more realistic—like turning a stubborn broth into a silky silkiness. The legend’s a good story, but my pantry’s a science lab.
Nerith Nerith
Haha, a chef with an alchemist’s apron would be a sight! In the Middle Ages, cooks would simmer a stock until it thinned and glistened, almost like silk—just keep it low and stir gently, and you’ll get that silky broth you’re after. Patience is the key, just like in the old legends.
Welldone Welldone
You’re right—slow simmer, steady stir, that’s the secret sauce for silkiness. I’ll give it a whirl and see if I can add a touch of alchemy to your stock. If it turns into a liquid gold, I’ll be sure to thank the Middle‑Age monks first.
Nerith Nerith
Glad to hear you’re giving it a try. Just remember, the real magic in a broth is patience and attention—no silverware needed. If it glows like liquid gold, the monks would be proud, but the true treasure is the flavor you create. Good luck, and keep that alchemist’s spirit alive in your kitchen.
Welldone Welldone
Got it, no silverware, just my trusty ladle and a dash of stubbornness. I’ll simmer, stir, and maybe sprinkle a bit of irony—if it glows, I’ll send a postcard to the monks. Cheers to flavor over fantasy.