The cult of Cthulhu has no cuisine of its own: it grafts itself onto two very real coastal worlds that Lovecraft haunted. On one side, New England's fishing ports (Providence, imaginary Arkham, Marblehead) with their clam chowders and sailor's biscuits; on the other, the Louisiana bayou and New Orleans, where the story places cultists dancing in the night. The meal is conceived as a vigil by the water: a great shared soup-base, a snack that travels by sea, a hot drink for the night, and a pot offered at the swamp's edge. Each dish looks toward the ocean, where the city of R'lyeh sleeps.

Powder made from dried and pounded young sassafras leaves, inherited from the Choctaw of Louisiana and adopted by Creole cuisine. It is added OFF the heat, at the very end: if heated too strongly, it becomes stringy and gluey. It flavors and thickens gumbo with a green, earthy, almost resinous note — a taste of the swamp that perfectly matches the muddy imaginary of Cthulhu.