Concoct a Tapenade of Parabolan Orange-Apple and Concentrate of Self

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A player-created Guide is available for this content: A Kitchen for Artists (Guide)
A player-created Guide is available for this content: Alchemy at Station VIII (Guide)

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This page contains details about Fallen London Actions.

From: A Kitchen for Artists


Cooked from ingredients grown in your own patch of Parabola, this is a unique and personal dish.

Game Instructions: This dish can be served to guests or further developed into concoctions that will affect your quirks. The Concentrate of Self will not be consumed.

Unlocked with 1 x Concentrate of Self, 2 x Parabolan Orange-apples, The Business of Manufacture 6, Passenger Dining Room at Station VIII 3

Locked with Current Culinary Concoction


Challenge information

Broad, Watchful 150

  • 103 - very chancy (41%)
  • 128 - chancy (51%)
  • 153 - modest (61%)
  • 178 - very modest (71%)
  • 203 - low-risk (81%)
  • 228 - straightforward (91%)
  • 250 - straightforward (100%)

Narrow, Kataleptic Toxicology 5 (50% base)

  • 1 and below - almost impossible (10%)
  • 2 - high-risk (20%)
  • 3 - high-risk (30%)
  • 4 - tough (40%)
  • 5 - very chancy (50%)
  • 6 - chancy (60%)
  • 7 - modest (70%)
  • 8 - very modest (80%)
  • 9 - low-risk (90%)
  • 10 and above - straightforward (100%)

Success

A little advance preparation

[...] the scrubbing and slicing of the ingredients, the boiling and sugaring and straining and straining again, the pressing of your heart's own fruit through a muslin bag until you feel your chest will burst — all this takes you less than one hour [...]

Required For: Sweeten into a Marmalade of Parabolan Orange-Apple, Honey, and Roseate Attar, Sour into a Pickle of Parabolan Orange-apple with Jasmine Notes, Develop into an Orange-Apple Jam spiked with Muscaria Brandy, Transform yourself with Self-Reflective Tapenade of Parabolan Orange-Apple and Reach out to the mind of (the City)


Failure

Tapenade

To handle such ingredients as these without poisoning anyone requires great skill. You don't quite manage it. […]

The last tune you danced to is sitting uneasily on your stomach, and if you don't hold still, you'll vomit it up, […] tearing up your throat.

[Find the rest of the story at https://www.fallenlondon.com]