Nathan graciously accepted the sample, plucking the pompa root from the dish and biting it. “Mmm, not bad. It tastes like a mild onion.”
“Try the molo, with the sauce,” Jalea suggested.
Nathan picked up the molo next, scooping up some of the gelatinous orange goop that lay beneath it. After sniffing it, he popped it into his mouth and began to chew tentatively. After a moment, his curious expression changed to one of approval. “That’s pretty good. Kind of a cross between a mushroom and tofu,” he explained, forgetting that Jalea would not know of any of the foods her was using for comparison. “And the sauce is like a spicy orange marmalade. Hey, Vlad!” he called out. “You’ve gotta try this!” Nathan turned to the old woman, about to indicate that he wanted to order five dishes of their food, when he realized that he had no way to pay her. He looked at Jalea, a bit embarrassed. “How do we pay her?”
“Allow me,” Jalea offered. She placed an order in the local language, immediately being handed five larger dishes filled with a mixture similar to what Nathan had just sampled. After receiving the orders, Jalea handed the woman some small, dark gray chips, gesturing for her to accept what was probably an over-payment on Jalea’s part. The old woman bowed her head respectively, thanking Jalea for her generosity.
Having all been reduced to eating dehydrated emergency rations for the last two days, they eagerly devoured the dishes of food. Vladimir, who Nathan had come to realize would eat just about anything, inhaled his portion with his usual rapidity. Danik and Jalea, both being familiar with the local cuisine, consumed their portions without hesitation. Jessica, however, did not appear as enthusiastic as the others.
“What’s the matter, Jess?” Nathan asked. “Don’t like your molo?” he asked with a grin.
“Tastes kind of like mushrooms,” she stated, trying not to complain.
“Yeah, and tofu,” Nathan exclaimed, obviously enjoying his serving much more than Jessica.
“Not exactly crazy about either one of those,” she stated, forcing herself to tolerate the unusual taste and texture of the molo. “You sure this stuff is safe for us to eat?”
“Delicious!” Vladimir announced, scooping up the last of the orange sauce with his fingers. “It reminds me of the cooked cabbage my grandmother used to make.”
“Maybe we should buy some of this molo? Take it up to the ship and have it analyzed. How well does it keep?” Nathan asked Jalea. He was met with a look of bewilderment. “Does it go bad quickly? Does it need to be refrigerated or something?”
“Ah, no. It is usually dried in the sun or in dehydrators. Then it remains safe to eat for a very long time. Some people will season it before dehydration and consume it later while still in its dried state.”
“Molo jerky,” Nathan joked. Again, Jalea was bewildered. “Whattaya think, Vlad?”
“What is this jerky?” Vladimir asked.
“You know, jerky. Dried strips of seasoned meat?” Nathan looked at Vladimir, who showed no sign of understanding. “Really? You’ve never heard of jerky?” Nathan shook off Vladimir’s ignorance of the concept, turning back to Jalea. “So, maybe we could buy some molo here?”
“These people only sell individual cooked servings, as do most vendors in this area. Perhaps farther down we will find someone selling larger amounts of fresh molo.”
“Lead the way, then,” Nathan agreed, turning to the old woman. “Thank you. It was very good,” he complimented, nodding respectfully as he placed his empty dish on the counter.
They spent the next half hour winding their way casually through the crowds of shoppers, trying to move in much the same manner as the locals in order to blend in, just as Tobin had recommended. The street market reminded Nathan of the week he had spent with his academy roommate Luis in his village in South America. They had spent an afternoon meandering about a street market much as this one. It had been the first time that Nathan had spent time outside of a large metropolitan area, and it had been quite a culture-shock for him. Back then, despite the fact that it had still been on his homeworld, it had been a totally alien environment to him. He found it surprising that this market-a thousand light years distant-felt no more alien to him than that village in South America had a few short years ago.
They stopped a few more times along the way, sampling more of the local cuisine. As Jalea had told them, everything they tried seemed to have molo in it as a staple. There had been very little variety in the available ingredients used, but their culinary creativity did not seem impaired by the lack of variety.
Jessica had expressed concern over Nathan’s willingness to sample just about everything he came across, despite Doctor Chen’s recommendations to the contrary. Nathan had dismissed her concerns, likening it to a trip to another country back on Earth. He had further supported his lack of caution to the fact that the ship was nearly out of food, and he doubted they could wait for the already overworked physician to complete complex analysis of all the consumables found on this world.
“Who are the goons?” Jessica asked, spying a pair of burly men. They were cloaked in matching black robes that covered their combat gear and weapons. They were standing near a closed door to a small office of some sort, constantly scanning the crowds, looking for no one in particular.
“Enforcement agents, for the controlling family,” Jalea explained.
“They always gear-up so heavily?”
“Gear-up?” Jalea asked, uncertain of her meaning.
“The body armor? The heavy weapons? The comm-sets?” she elaborated. “They look like they’re ready for a ground assault.”
“Such types prefer to display their strength so as to intimidate potential foes,” Jalea said.
“I know the type well,” Jessica mumbled. “Are there many of them around?”
“They are usually spread evenly throughout the city.”
“Are they like law enforcement or something?” Nathan asked.
“They have no interest in rules,” Jalea assured them. “Other than the ones involving payment, of course.”
“Like I said,” Jessica reiterated, “goons.” Jessica cast a side-long glance at them as they passed. “I don’t like goons,” she said under her breath.
Nathan noticed the type of street vendors was rapidly changing away from prepared foods and goods to bulk produce. There was plenty of pompa root for sale, as well as several other varieties of similar roots. Nathan spied a few odd fruits, various herbs, and even some purple-looking vegetables that looked a bit like tomatoes. Of course, there was also plenty of molo at every table. Some of it was pale, some darker, and some of it was already seasoned and dried into what Nathan would forever think of as molo jerky. There was even some that appeared to have been purposefully aged nearly to the point of spoilage, something that Jalea insisted although safe, was an acquired taste.
“At the end of this street, there should be vendors that deal in the quantities we require,” Jalea explained. “Most of the vendors here have traveled in from far out in the country to sell limited amounts of their small harvests, in order to purchase things that they cannot produce themselves. We need to find a local grower who lives not too distant and can deliver large quantities.”
“What do you think we should buy?” Nathan asked.
“As much as we can, I would expect. And of course, plenty of molo.”
“Why?” Jessica objected.
“Despite its rather unusual flavor, it is quite nutritious. Many people exist on diets that are ninety percent molo.”
“If you call that existing,” Jessica protested, shuddering at the thought of eating nothing but the odd, slimy fungus.
As Nathan and Jalea continued their stroll, Jessica stopped, pretending to inspect a bundle of herbs, picking it up and sniffing it as she glanced back at the two goons she had spotted earlier. Satisfied the two men had not taken an interest in them, she continued on her way.