The stock, the doctor knew from previous visits to the city, was the basis of the establishment’s fish tea. Each place prided itself on a different savor, a different mystery of spices, additives and arcane practices to guarantee a taste unrealizable anywhere else. If the stock truly had soured, it would have to be thrown out despite the fact that it might have been simmering in the same kettle, being added to, taken from, for years. Disaster.
Ok, so this is a thing. GRAS in most cases.
