The Galactic Gourmet

by James White

  That was a ridiculous thing to ask a physically massive Tralthan to do. Even though he knew what the empath meant, he was in the kitchen and the Wem must surely expect him to ask ques­tions about food.

  "No," said Remrath sharply. When Gurronsevas had decided that he must have given offense and it was not going to speak fur­ther, it proved him wrong by saying, "Only adults are entitled to eat meat, if and when it is available. It is forbidden to the young, but that rule is relaxed when, as is the case here, many of them are nearing maturity. The pupils who are old enough are occasionally given it in small quantities to add taste to the vegetable dishes, as a preparation for and a promise of their approaching maturity and the status they can expect as brave hunters and providers for their people.

  "Our hunting party is due to return soon," Remrath ended in a quiet voice that sounded angry despite the emotion-straining process of translation. "But in recent years they have had limited success, and they will not share their meat and their mature strength with children, so they keep it all for themselves"

  Plainly some kind of verbal response was needed, Gurronsevas thought worriedly, preferably a sympathetic or encouraging or in­nocuous one that would not increase the Wem's anger. Not know­ing what to say, he tried to play safe by making a harmless and ob­vious statement of fact.

  "You are mature," he said.

  If anything Remrath became even angrier. So loudly that the two cooks at the other end of the kitchen looked up from their work, it said, "I am very mature, stranger. Too mature to take part in a hunt, or to be given the smallest share of the kill. Too mature to have my past hunts remembered with gratitude or my feelings con­sidered. Occasionally, out of kindness or sentiment, a young and newly-mature hunter will throw me a scrap or two of meat, but those we use to add a little taste to the meals of the older children. Otherwise we eat what everyone else eats in this place—a tasteless, lukewarm vegetable mush!"

  In his time Gurronsevas had heard and dealt with many com­plaints about food, although rarely when it had been prepared by himself, and felt able to speak without risk of giving offense.

  He took a deep breath and said carefully, "I have met or know of many different kinds of creatures, intelligent beings like your­selves who have developed civilizations more advanced even than that of the Wem of many centuries past, and who eat nothing but vegetation from the time they are weaned from their mothers' milk until they die. Their meals are served hot, as are yours, or uncooked and served in a variety of different—"

  "Never!" Remrath burst out. "I can believe that they eat veg­etable stew until they die, because we older Wem are forced to do the same. In all probability it precipitates our dying. But it is sim­ply a matter of filling an empty and growling stomach with taste­less organic fuel, and eating vegetation is shameful and demeaning for any adult.

  "But eating raw growing things like a, like a rouglar!" it ended fiercely. "Off-worlder, you risk making me sick."

  "Please excuse my ignorance," said Gurronsevas, "but what is a rouglar?"

  "It used to be a large, slow-moving meat animal which ate and digested foliage all day long," Remrath replied. "A few of them are rumored to exist in the equatorial regions, but elsewhere they are extinct. They were always too slow and stupid to escape the hunters."

  "With respect, you are wrong," said Gurronsevas. "Many in­telligent species are herbivorous and suffer no feelings of shame be­cause of it. Neither do they have feelings of mental or physical inadequacy among the carnivores and omnivores who eat meat only or a combination of both, as do you. Charge Nurse Naydrad, that is the one you will see with the long, silver-furred body and multi­plicity of legs, eats only vegetation and is slow neither in its thoughts or movements. Differences in eating habits are not a cause for shame or pride or any other emotions except, perhaps, pleasure or displeasure over the taste, quality of the cooking or preparation of the food. They are just differences. Why do the Wem feel shame?"

  Remrath did not reply. Had his question given offense, Gurronsevas wondered, or was the answer even more shameful? Rather than ask questions it might be safer to continue giving information while noting the other's reaction to it.

  "Food is a fuel regardless of its type," he went on, "but the process of refueling is, or should be, a pleasurable experience. The taste can be enhanced in various ways by the addition of small quantities of substances that are animal, vegetable or edible min­eral. Or a meal can be improved by using different constituents which complement or contrast with each other and make the taste more interesting. I have some small experience in this area includ­ing the preparation of..."

  Briefly, he wondered how the subordinate kitchen staff at the Cromingan-Shesk would have reacted to such a ridiculous and un­characteristic piece of understatement, but his listener knew noth­ing of multi-species cooking and would not be impressed by gra­tuitous displays of expertise that were completely beyond its understanding or, hopefully, its present understanding.

  When he continued, Gurronsevas tried to keep the informa­tion as simple and basic as possible because this aged Wem cook, regardless of its advanced years, was the merest child in culinary matters. But as he warmed to his favorite subject and the minutes slipped past unnoticed, he grew aware that Remrath was showing signs of restlessness and possibly impatience. It was time to taper off before positive boredom set in.

  "There is much more that I could tell you about food prepa­ration," he went on, "including the fact that my efforts are wasted on a few rare and very unfortunate beings. The shape-changer Danalta is one. It eats anything, vegetation, meat, hard woods, sand, most varieties of rock, all without being able to sense any difference in taste."

  He stopped suddenly with the realization that the conversa­tions in his head-set were indicating that the medical team were boarding Rhabwar, the Wem students were about to reenter the mine, and Danalta had not yet arrived.

  Or had it.

  Standing against a poorly lit section of the wall behind the kitchen doors Gurronsevas remembered, there had been a wooden cask with the shafts of several brooms and mops projecting from the open top. Now there were two casks, identical but for a knot­hole in one of them that had the wet, transparent look of an eye—which slowly winked at him. Danalta had joined them.

  Exhibitionist, thought Gurronsevas, and returned his attention to Remrath.

  "We must continue this conversation at another time," the Wem said before he could speak, "because now we have much to do. Watch if you wish, but kindly stand aside and avoid hamper­ing our movements."

  Gurronsevas moved away to stand beside the cask that was not a cask. The movements that he was not supposed to hamper, he saw, were painfully slow. Remrath and its kitchen staff were ladling help­ings of the vegetable stew onto deep-rimmed dishes which they placed two to a tray before adding two wide, flat spoons and two cups of drinking water taken from the entry pipe of the free-running sluice. The platters were unwarmed and some of them were still damp from washing. One by one the loaded trays with their two-place servings were carried to the outer room and placed on the big table until its entire surface was covered. While this was happen­ing, the teachers supervising the Wem working parties and classes arrived and began adding the day's crop of vegetables to the kitchen's storage bins while their young charges moved on to the dining area.

  Remrath told the newcomers that the presence of Gurronsevas would be explained later and to continue with their normal duties. The sight of them doing so was seriously elevating Gurronsevas' blood pressure.

  The age-immobilized tails, the stiffness in their hands, fingers, and walking limbs and their erratic, hobbling gait meant that they could carry and balance only one small tray of two servings at a time. It also meant that the food already cooling in the outer room would be even cooler, if not stone cold, by the time it reached the dining area. But the diners were unlikely to complain about it be­cause their impatience for a meal of cold mush would be minimal.

  "I can't
stand here and watch this any longer," he said with quiet vehemence to one of the casks behind him. "The organiza­tion of this kitchen is a criminal shambles, and their food delivery system is...Don't change or move to follow me, Danalta, unless I call for help."

  He waited until Remrath was hobbling past close by, then went on in a louder voice, "I have been observing your activities closely and believe that I can be of assistance. As you have seen, I am more physically agile than you are and much faster in my move­ments. And I have four hands, all of which are presently idle..."

  The Great Gurronsevas, he thought incredulously as he was carrying the first four trays along the tunnel to the dining area, wait­ing at table! What was happening to him?

  Chapter 23

  The conversation continued after the meal was over and the near-empty platters cleared away. Nobody, it seemed, paid the cooks the compliment of leaving clean plates. Tawsar thanked Gurronsevas for his help serving and for answering questions about himself asked by the young Wem diners. At no time did he see Tawsar touch its food, and when he mentioned this to Remrath later he was told that the First Teacher held to the old traditions and would not eat vegetation where others could witness its shame. Even though the other cooks, who had to take food to the very young children, had left them alone in the kitchen when he asked for an explanation, Remrath avoided the question.

  Gurronsevas knew better than to criticize or offer suggestions about the workings of its kitchen to the cook in charge, no matter how poorly-equipped the place might be, because wars had started over less. Instead he talked about the other kitchens he had known and his criticisms were implied rather than spoken.

  "We no longer ask the young to do these menial kitchen du­ties," Remrath said. "There was a time when those who misbe­haved were given responsibility for clearing away and washing the dishes and cutlery, and for cleaning the next day's vegetables. But much crockery was broken and vegetables were improperly washed as a result, and the practice was discontinued. Reluctant helpers are not worth the trouble. Besides, it is better for the aged to remain useful rather than waste resources that seem to grow scarcer by the day. Is that a food-stain or wear on your platter? Please scrub it again."

  Gurronsevas immersed the platter in the cold, running water and rubbed at it with the piece of dense, wiry moss provided for the purpose before showing it again to Remrath who was engaged in the same activity. First a waiter, he thought, and now a dishwasher!

  He said, "With many of the species I have known, especially when the individual is no longer young, repeated immersion in cold water stiffens the finger joints. Is it so with you?"

  "Yes," said Remrath. "And, as you must already have seen, at my age it is not only the parts bathed in cold water that suffer."

  "That, too, is a common complaint on many worlds," said Gurronsevas. "But it is possible that the suffering can be relieved. I say possible because I have no knowledge of the subject myself, but Tawsar kindly submitted to a full medical examination and many metabolic tests, so we will soon know whether or not our healing can be practiced to the benefit of the Wem. But if not, on my world the young can often be made to help their elders when the right arguments are used."

  Remrath washed three more platters, examined them minutely for food stains and placed them aside still dripping wet before it said, "Do you know whether Tawsar is well or ailing? Is the age-rot that grows in all our bodies, and opens the way for other flesh-poisoning diseases, working within it?"

  Gurronsevas was trying to think of a suitable reply when Murchison joined in on the ship frequency. "You were correct in saying that we might not be able to alleviate a Wem arthritic con­dition, but there is a fair chance that we can. Tawsar is old and frail but not sick. It could live for another ten years, longer if it would eat more. For some reason these people are nearly starving them­selves to death."

  If the pathologist had tasted the recent Wem meal, Gurronsevas thought, the reason would be plain. To Remrath he said, "Tawsar has many years of life ahead, especially if it would eat more food."

  Remrath scraped the congealed remains of a meal from a plat­ter into a waste bin before sliding it into the washing trough. It said, "The young would help us if we asked them, but the old must do useful work while we are waiting to deliver up our bodies at the Ending, and it is work that we are allowed to do even though we are not always capable of doing it well. And we don't want to eat more food, not when it is vegetation. The subject is distasteful in every sense of the word. But I have questions for you, Gurronsevas. If they are improper, ignore them. Your work I can understand be­cause it is not unlike my own, but what about the beings who spoke with and did things to Tawsar? Where do they come from and what do they do there?"

  Gurronsevas tried to describe Sector General and the work that was done there, but his description was much too simple and far from accurate because he knew that the tremendous truth would not be believed.

  "So it is a great building in the sky," said Remrath, "filled with beings who take in diseased and damaged bodies and make them clean and fresh and whole again?"

  "That's as good a way as any," said Murchison, laughing softly, "of describing what we do."

  "There used to be places like that on Wemar," it went on, un­aware of the interruption, "but their work fell far short of that which you describe. You say that your friends on the ship come from Sector General and are willing to do this service for Tawsar and the rest of the senior staff?"

  "Yes," he replied without hesitation.

  "I—I am grateful," said Remrath, "but I am also uneasy about entrusting my body to strangers. Although one of them, you are known to me and...You, also, come from Sector General and must have knowledge that is greater than mine. I would prefer, when the time comes, that you did the work of returning my body to the freshness of youth."

  "Regrettably," said Gurronsevas, pleased at the misplaced compliment, "I know nothing of these matters. My only contribu­tion lies in the preparation, presentation and delivery of food for people there."

  "Is this an important contribution?" asked Remrath. "Does it help keep them clean and fresh?"

  "Yes," said Gurronsevas again. "I would say without hesitation that it is the most important one, since without it nobody would survive."

  In his head-set he could hear Murchison making an untrans­latable sound.

  "And you want to help keep us fresh," said Remrath, lifting the last, newly-washed platter from the trough, "by making our food look nice and taste better? Impossible!"

  Gurronsevas shook his hands dry because there was nothing he could see resembling a towel and said, "I would like you to allow me to try."

  Without replying, Remrath turned and hobbled stiffly into the outer room to return a few minutes later with an armful of the re­cently arrived vegetables. It began pulling leaves off some of them and roots from others before dropping the presumably edible parts into the water before it spoke.

  "You are allowed to try, stranger," it said. "But if, out of your greater knowledge and other-world experience, you cannot pro­duce meat for us you will be wasting your time. That is our hope and the reason why I forced Tawsar to meet you in the first place. Instead of explaining our urgent need for meat, which is necessary for the survival of our species, he was ashamed and talked of other things and allowed your healers to do strange things to him.

  "What do you want to do first, Gurronsevas?"

  "I would like to begin," he replied, "by talking to you about the Wem..."

  "Yes, please," said Murchison. "Apart from the physiological data, Prilicla says that you are getting more useful information from your friend in five minutes than we did from Tawsar in two hours."

  "...About what you think of yourselves and your world," he went on, ignoring yet another unexpected compliment, "as well as what you like to eat. Which objects, scenes and colors do you con­sider beautiful? Is the appearance of your food as important as its taste and odor? It has long been my belief that, in se
veral impor­tant respects, a person's behavior and level of culture is reflected by the food it eats and, of course, the civilized rituals and refinements practiced while cooking, presenting and eating it..."

  "Stranger!" Remrath broke in. "You are becoming offensive, to myself and the Wem people. Are you suggesting that we are sav­ages?"

  "Gurronsevas, be careful," said Murchison urgently. "Dammit, are you trying to pick a fight?"

  "That was not my intention," he said, replying to both ques­tioners. "I know that the Wem are close to starvation, and many of the rituals of eating require a sufficiency, if not a surplus, of the pre­ferred foods. But where I come from eating rituals can be altered, either through necessity or to relieve the boredom of an unchang­ing diet.

  "Despite my ignorance of Wem cooking," Gurronsevas con­tinued quickly, "I shall make suggestions on how this may be done. If these suggestions are offensive or unsuitable for any physical or psychological reason, tell me so at once without wasting time on politeness. But before you do so, let me test the foods that are avail­able and debate the suggestion with you at length so that I as well as you will know why it is unworkable.

  "To make these tests," he went on, "I need your permission to take samples, very small quantities, of the vegetation and condi­ments that you use here. As well, I would be grateful if you could take me out to where these plants are harvested. Seeing them in their natural state, and gathering and testing other possibly edible growths in the vicinity, might suggest alternative meals or changes in the existing menu."

  "But it is meat that we need," said Remrath firmly. "Have you a suggestion for providing that?"

  "Only," said Gurronsevas, suddenly impatient with the other's culinary monomania, "if you were to eat one of us."

  "Gurronsevas...!" Murchison began.

  "We would not eat you, Gurronsevas," said Remrath, taking the suggestion literally. "With respect, your limbs and body appear hard and tough. You might taste like the branches of a tree. The shape-changer's parts might cause indigestion by changing shape within us, and the limbs and body of the beautiful, winged creature are as fleshless as the twigs of a bush in winter. The soft being who balances on two legs and the one with the shining fur might be suit­able. Are they soon to die?"