" Night by night, he led her through Saturnus's gardens, describing the dishes that might come from each one.
'Poached collops of venison,' he whispered in her ear. 'A quaking pudding with raisins, honey and saffron. Custards flavored with conserve of roses and a paste of quinces. Beef wrapped about a mash of artichoke and pistachio, then hollowed manchet rolls filled with minced eggs, sweet herbs and cinnamon...'
He described the foaming forcemeat of fowls then set before her a dish. He watched her scoop up a little of the pale orange mash.
'I confess that to this poor palate your forcemeats taste strongly of turnips.'
'Ah, but I have not yet described the seasonings of cumin and saffron, the beaten egg whites and the folding of the forcemeats into the pipkin.' He scooped more of the turnip mash and held out the spoon. 'Taste again, your ladyship. Imagine the spices... "

― Lawrence Norfolk , John Saturnall's Feast