“It has an interesting smell,” said Remrath, inhaling loudly through its nose and bending over the tray.“… Especially,” Gurronsevas went on, “in conjunction with the dark red jelly, which was also made from local — no, don’t eat it directly with a spoon. Use your food spike, select a portion of vegetable and touch it lightly against the jelly. It is similar to Kelgian sarkun, or strong Earth mustard, and is very hot on the tongue—”
“Hot!” Remrath burst out, grabbing for one of the two beakers on the tray and emptying it quickly before saying, “Great Gorel, it set my whole mouth on fire! But, but what have you done to our water?”
“I may have miscalculated the level of sensitivity of the Wem palate,” Gurronsevas said apologetically, “or I will need to reduce the proportion of powdered cressle root or, as with any new ingredient, the jelly may be an acquired taste. The liquids in the beakers have each been flavored with the juice of two different berries, one bitter-tasting and the other slightly sweeter and aromatic. Your names for them are unknown to me because you do not use them in the kitchen, but the healers on the ship say that they are harmless to the Wem.”
Remrath did not reply. It had speared another slice of roasted orrogne on its eating spike and was touching it carefully to the jelly. Its other hand was holding the beaker close to its mouth as if in readiness to extinguish another fire.
“Your mountain spring water is cold and fresh and makes a fine liquid accompaniment to a meal,” said Gurronsevas, “but by the time the water is being drunk it has become tepid and uninteresting. The flavoring is an attempt to give it an appeal that is not dependent solely on its low temperature and, hopefully, to stimulate the taste sensors to a greater appreciation of the accompanying food. On many other worlds the preferred accompaniment is wine, which is a liquid containing varying proportions of a chemical called alcohol that is produced by fermentation of certain species of vegetation. There are many different wines that can be chosen to complement and enhance the taste of the meal or the course that is being consumed, but on Wemar I have encountered problems where the production of alcohol is concerned and have been forced to give up the attempt.”
There were several native plants whose fermentation would have produced alcohol, but the problem had been philosophical rather than physical. So far as the medical team knew, the use of alcohol as a beverage was unknown on Wemar and they did not want the responsibility of introducing it. Pathologist Murchison had been particularly vehement in its objections, citing the case of an early Earth-human sub-culture of the Amerindians that had been virtually destroyed through overindulgence because they had no prior experience of its mind-deadening and mood-changing effects. Prilicla had gently agreed that in their present situation the Wem had problems enough.
“The third course,” Gurronsevas resumed, “we call the dessert, or the sweet. Again it is a small dish, a pleasant farewell to a stomach that is almost filled to repletion. This one is made from chopped cretto stalks, heated until the water has boiled away to leave it with the consistency of a thick, smooth, and tasteless paste, under which there are hiding a few stoned den berries, diced matto and a few other items which I will not name as yet. Please try it. It will not burn your tongue but I think it may surprise you.”
“Wait,” said Remrath. It had put down the beaker and was gently applying its fifth slice of orrogne to the jelly. “I haven’t decided how much I dislike this one yet.”
“In your own time,” said Gurronsevas, and went on, “Instead of a cold salad, the starter dish can be a hot soup. In consistency this is something between a flavored drink and a very thin stew, contains small amounts of vegetation to which are added very small quantities of your herbs and spices to vary the taste. I am still experimenting with combinations that show promising results, but I would not want you to taste the result of an unsuccessful experiment.
“You do not seem to be aware of the many edible herbs and spices growing in your valley,” he continued, “the majority of which our healers have pronounced safe and even beneficial for the Wem, and myself. Regrettably, there are subtle differences in taste sensitivity and appreciation between the Wem and Tralthan species, and it is important that these differences be reconciled so that I can make further suggestions.”
Remrath laid down its eating spike and dipped its spoon cautiously into the dessert. The platter containing the main course, whose portions were rather small, was more than half empty.
“You have said that the mine grows very cold at night,” Gurronsevas went on, “and damp when heavy rain enters the ventilation shafts. The young Wem are not inconvenienced by this, but the teachers are. One of my suggestions is that, when your fuel reserves permit it, the teachers heat the water served with the evening meal so that they will feel warmer when they cover themselves for the night. Better still, if they were to take a thick, highly-spiced soup before retiring, one that is hot in taste as well as temperature, they would find it more comforting than shivering under their blankets until their own body heat slowly warmed them.
“For you it would be a small change in routine,” he added, “but it is a popular practice among many off-world species who find that it engenders physical and mental relaxation as well as encouraging sleep.”
Remrath stopped with the second spoonful of dessert halfway to its mouth and said, “It would be a small change, one of many small changes and suggestions that have led to me eating these, these outlandish mixtures of vegetation, and may lead to who knows what else. Your intention is to help us, and that is the reason why I, and to a lesser extent the other teachers, are submitting ourselves to your strange and often sickening experiments with Wem vegetation. But are you not forgetting that we, being old as well as hungry, have forced down our shame to help you, and that it is the young adults who need your help most, and that they need meat.
“Gurronsevas,” it ended, “you are so enthusiastic, so forceful and so single-minded and so dismissive of objections that you act like a person who is indulging its favorite hobby.”
The Great Gurronsevas a hobbyist! he thought furiously. He was too angry to speak for a moment, during which a very uncomfortable thought arose in his mind. What was the difference between a person with a hobby that claimed all of his attention and one who devoted his life to the perfection of a single, all-consuming activity?
“But you are also forgetting,” Remrath went on, “that the reluctant cooperation you receive from the teachers will not be forthcoming from the taught. It may be that age has damaged our minds, or made them less resistant to argument. But if you try to make them eat this stuff, the young Wem are likely to throw your carefully prepared experimental meals against the nearest wall, or at you. What are you going to do about that?”