Deck Review: The Magic Pantry Tarot

Considering I’ve only recently acquired The Gourmet Tarot (via its Kickstarter), you’d be forgiven for thinking I don’t need another foodie-themed Tarot deck (with another cute gingham tablecloth-style cardback, no less), BUT YOU’D BE WRONG! The Magic Pantry Tarot is the latest project by Cedar Wren McCloud AKA Numinous Spirit Press. The creator has previously brought us The Numinous Tarot and The Threadbound Oracle, so I knew when I backed this deck that they had plenty of experience in both KS campaigns and cartomancy projects, and, indeed, the backing-to-owning process ran like a well oiled machine :-). You can now buy the deck from the creator’s website here.

The Magic Pantry Tarot is a 79 card deck themed around food “for the home cook or anyone who loves to eat” (I fit both of those criteria!) The creator assures that there is no judgment of food as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ and instead the focus is on the flavours, characteristics, and uses of each featured ingredient. The extra card is a alternative Fool card (tofu instead of egg), making the whole deck vegan-friendly. McCloud is a foodie themselves and notes that “food is a powerful force in our world, a necessity for life which is also a major basis for culture and community”. For this deck they’ve combined this love of food with their “multicultural approach” to Tarot symbolism.

The Deck: Look, Feel, and Finish

The deck is printed on A35 cardstock, and comes in a standard tuckbox. While I like tuckboxes for their compactness and neat appearance, they’re often a PITA to open without fraying/tearing the cardboard, and this is no exception (I’m a clamshell girl through and through though, lol). The cards are a bit more slippery than my personal preference, but they do shuffle super easily as a result. The back design looks like a gingham tablecloth in an old Italian trattoria – super cute – and this pattern bleeds through onto the edges, making for a very cool looking deck. There’s no guidebook included with the deck, but there’s a comprehensive pdf guide available (for free) via the creator’s website. The pdf guide is great – it contains lots of little insights into McCloud’s thinking about how the illustrated food or drink maps onto the theme of the card, and it’s really helpful in terms of getting to grips with this deck. 10/10 for the guidebook content, even if I do quite like a physical LWB.

The deck as a whole is really whimsical and gentle; I love the art style and how amusing and insightful some of the symbolism is. However, a lot of the cards are a bit abstruse if you’re not already familiar with their meanings. When you are familiar, they’re often delightful little inside jokes; when you’re not I think you’d be a bit like ‘huh?’ in some cases. As helpful as the guidebook is, I think I’d recommend the deck primarily for more experienced readers.

Greatest Hits: My Favourite Cards from The Magic Pantry Tarot

The Fool is, obviously, an egg, spilling out of a close-up of the RWS Fool‘s handkerchief on a stick (clever, I like it). I’ve said before, I think The Fool kinda has to be an egg in a food-based deck? It’s just so on the nose it would feel wrong to pick anything else! The egg is the perfect representation of new beginnings, creation, the start of a journey; as well as innocence, and, yes, foolishness. The unbroken oval of the egg also mirrors the number ‘0’, and Rachel Pollack points out that the number zero is like an egg, full of life, getting ready to hatch. Ebeggin describes The Fool as “the Zero, the cosmic egg from which anything and everything can hatch”. McCloud describes the broken egg on the card as a shout-out to the old adage ‘you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs’: “sometimes we have to take a risk, mess things up a little, in order to learn“.

I love The High Priestess as condiments. The guidebook asks us to think about what we “automatically reach for, without thinking” when we’re looking for something to dip our fries into: “many of our decisions are made without conscious thought, some quite literally from the gut. This card says to trust the signs and signals of your body when it comes to current choices in your life“. McCloud also writes about the late-night diner as a strange and liminal space where you can often enter into the eerie yet wonderful in-between energy of the High Priestess, and I love this idea!

I enjoy the Empress as vanilla. Vanilla often gets flack for being a plain/boring flavour, but I actually find it super rich and complex – just like how The Empress can be seen as a pretty straightforward card, yet in reality has many hidden depths and meanings. Vanilla is also supremely comforting, just like The Empress herself.  If things go wrong she will be there, ready to dry our tears, a soft place to land – just like a delicious tub of vanilla icecream ;-).

The two pillars of Justice (Mercy & Severity) are substituted here for two streams of olive oil, and Justice’s sword has become a cocktail stick of olives. Associated with the goddess Athena, as well as the patron of human culture, Aristaeus, Greek Mythology considered the olive to be a sacred symbol of wisdom, so it makes sense to me to link olives to Justice, as the two concepts (justice & wisdom) are so interlinked. In Qabalah the pillar of mercy represents forgiveness for our wrongs. The pillar of severity represents the law of necessity – that we must reap what we sow (or, karma if you will!) Both are necessary for justice to be served. Justice reminds us that life constantly asks us to make decisions, to weigh things up, and make a choice. And once we’ve made that choice, our decisions become a part of us (the oil in the bowl). That is the ‘justice’ of our lives – that we are what we’ve made ourselves. McCloud also (ominously 😂) points out that, historically, boiling oil wasn’t just used for deep frying, it could also be used as a weapon or punishment: “this card may appear to describe retribution for one’s crimes and wrongdoing. Whether a reminder to learn from past mistakes or a warning for the future, again it’s up to you and the surrounding cards to decide whether this revenge is appropriate or just“.

I love The Hanged One as broth. Broth takes a long time of relative inactivity to richen and infuse. A rolling boil may look exciting, but it’s not always wise – sometimes a slow simmer is required.

I particularly love mushrooms as the Devil, with their little evil skull faces. I personally enjoy mushrooms, but my husband and kids would very much vibe with this portrayal (I tell my husband he is a fool for this – not only are mushrooms a wonderfully sustainable food source, but it’s like he learned nothing from playing Super Mario as a kid: mushrooms are our friends!) McCloud points out that, while tasty, mushrooms are also famous for their psychoactive effects, as well as sometimes being incredibly poisonous. Much like The Devil, we must interact with them at our own risk!

McCloud’s depiction of the Five of Cups is really clever. When life gives you lemons – instead of gazing morosely out over the river like a total sadsac – make lemonade! And there’s no point crying over the cracked jug, not when there’s plenty more lemons on the tree.

The Knight of Cups is the romantic of the deck (but also the fuckboy!), so the red cherries and hyper-sexualised lipstick here work really well. The magic carpet ride the Knight will take you on is a lot of fun, but there’s no guarantee it’s permanent.

The Ace of Pents is perfect as rice, such a dietary staple. Rice is unflashy, simple, and sustaining, just like the suit of Pents.

I often think of the Page of Pents as the ‘student card’ – focussed on the love of learning/work, the study of studying itself. The effort, patience, and systematic processes involved in baking bread map really well on to the energies of this card.

And, sweet and comforting, pastry is perfect as the Queen of Pents.

A gorgeous and visually smart Three of Swords, with the three beetroot creating the traditional heart shape we often see on this card.

And the Ten of Swords as tear-inducing onions – love it! McCloud points out “you’ll soon be able to put your vegetable knife down and have a nap while the soup simmers on the stove. While this has been a horrible experience, this card assures us that it’s over. We’re done! Stick a fork in us!”

This is a gentle, warming little deck, that is really lovely to work with. You can buy it for $45 (approx. £34) from the creator’s website here.

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