The blackboard outside The Willow Table on Threadneedle Street has read the same thing for seventeen days: Braised lamb shoulder — temporarily unavailable. This morning, Simeon Kade will take a piece of chalk and write something different.
The lamb is back.
Kade received fourteen pounds of velveroot in last week’s second Guild allocation — enough, he estimates, for approximately three weeks of service at normal volumes. The braised lamb shoulder, which requires a slow velveroot-and-bone-marrow reduction that Kade has refined over eleven years, was pulled from the menu on 22 February when his velveroot supply ran to nothing.
“It’s not a complicated dish,” Kade said on Tuesday evening, standing in his kitchen where two lamb shoulders were already in the oven for today’s service. “Shoulder, stock, root vegetables, velveroot, time. But without the velveroot, it’s not the dish. It’s something else pretending to be the dish. I won’t serve that.”
Customers have asked about the lamb every day since its removal, Kade said. Several have booked specifically for today. He expects to sell out by half past one.
The Numbers Ease
The Willow Table’s restoration is one visible sign of a broader easing. The Eastern Spice Index closed at 318 on Tuesday — its eighth consecutive decline and the lowest level since 9 February, before the Kaelmar crisis disrupted the strait’s commercial traffic. The index peaked at 356 on 26 February.
Combined Guild reserves now stand at approximately 760 pounds across all varieties, with velveroot at 58 pounds after the second allocation round distributed 180 pounds to fourteen member merchants last week. The 250 per cent pricing cap, enforced since 2 March, has held among Guild members, though six non-Guild merchants continue to sell above the ceiling. The emergency pricing ordinance extending the cap to all merchants remains with the Commerce Committee, where it has sat for a week without being scheduled.
“The committee will act when it acts,” said Guildmaster Hadrian Voss, with the diplomatic patience of a man who has written four letters on the subject. “In the meantime, fourteen of our members are selling at fair prices. Six others are not. Customers can do arithmetic.”
Marguerite Fontenoy, executive chef at Verlaine’s, expects to restore her full eastern-influenced menu within ten days. “The saffron bark is back. The golden peppervine arrived last week. We’re waiting on dried sumac root, which is a lesser variety but essential to three of our dishes.”
Dominic Hale at The Ashen Grill, who replaced his entire eastern menu with what he called “honest Bobington cooking” during the crisis, is in no hurry to change back. “The Greymoor herb roast has outsold the spiced duck by two to one,” he said. “Sometimes a crisis teaches you something useful.”
Two Vessels Approaching
The supply picture improves further with the expected arrival of two additional Sarenne-rerouted vessels. The cargo ship Havenport was reported passing the Cape of Sarenne lighthouse on Monday, carrying an estimated 200 pounds of mixed spice. The bulk carrier Stellara, which departed the eastern ports three weeks ago with what sources describe as a large velveroot consignment, is expected by the weekend.
If both vessels arrive on schedule, combined city reserves would exceed 1,200 pounds — sufficient, at current rationed consumption, through mid-May. That would effectively end the acute phase of the crisis, though prices are unlikely to return to pre-crisis levels until regular Kaelmar traffic resumes.
“We are managing, not celebrating,” said Haroun Nazari, chairman of the Spice Crisis Committee. “The reserves are stronger. The pipeline is filling. But we are still routing vessels around a continent because two nations cannot agree on who inspects whom in a strait. Until that is resolved, every pound of spice in this city arrived the hard way.”
Nazari noted that Thursday’s fourth session of the Kaelmar talks — which will address, among other things, the framework for commercial traffic resumption — is being watched as closely on Ashbury Lane as on Chancery Row.
Back on Threadneedle Street, Kade had a simpler perspective.
“Seventeen days,” he said, wiping chalk dust from his hands. “It felt longer.”