As an adventurer, Echo Syke was no stranger to frigid Coerthan nights. On her travels, she found warmth came from many sources, but her favorites became a warm fire, the burn of a good liquor, and the company of her close companions. So what happens when, on one particular night, those companions find themselves searching for their prized liquor only to stumble upon it in the nest of a particularly inebriated water fowl? You get a great story to tell, and the inspiration for the name of your warm tavern where similar stories can be shared; The Drunken Duck.
When I find the Duck in the heart of Ishgard, I ponder its position in the city equally accessible to both the Brume and the High City. My first question to the proprietress is whether cultural tensions, still lingering in Ishgard as the city navigates its new era, ever boiled over at the bar. She assures me, as if the name already hadn’t, that The Drunken Duck is a place for fun, reinforced by hefty fines for those who start fights.
If the costs of a brawl aren’t enough to put one out of the mood for fighting, the charming and eclectic decor of the tavern may do the job instead. Large, communal style tables rest between a roaring fire, a beautiful stage (Which is filled each night), and the wide and cozy bar. The walls are covered with relics of adventure, flags and maps and portraits of grand feats of courage; I half expected to find the stuffed remains of the tavern’s eponymous thief.
The bar menu is as eclectic as the decor; sake from Kugane, honeyed meads from small Veena run meaderies and, of course, the highest selection of local whiskeys all were on offer on my visit.
The food menu, to the contrary, was far more traditionally Ishgardian. For me, I started with baked onion soup and hearty rye bread; the soup is spiced perfectly to entice the appetite, though the fresh bread threatens to fill the belly before the main course even arrives. Then it’s tender roasted dodo, the tough meat tamed by perfect cooking temperature and time. Finally, the spiced popotos are full of herbs and carefully fried, providing a nice crunch in between bites of savory meat. Each part of the meal compliments the other, a truly Coerthan experience meant to stave off frigid nights.
As I ate, I found myself enjoying the antics of the friendly staff. Between an animated discussion of the bartender’s trousers and a mid-service break for the proprietress and her lovely server to perform a dance in the middle of the dining hall, it was clear that their own enjoyment of the night was a priority. It becomes infectious, with diners joining in (the trouser debate, mostly, not the dancing) between performances of the band, and soon the entire room feels like the inspiration for the tavern; a party of old friends using cold spirits, a warm fire, and good friends to fight off the night’s chill.
