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<font face=1><DIV align="center">The Red Kitchen Reader<br>
By Simocles Quo<br>
<br>
<DIV align="left"><IMG src="Book/fancy_font/t_52x61.dds" width=52 height=61>hough naturally modest, I must admit to some pleasure in being dubbed by our Emperor's father, the late Pelagius IV, as "the finest connoisseur in Tamriel." He was also good enough to appoint me the first, and to this day, the only Master of Cuisine in the Imperial Court. Other Emperors, of course, had master chefs and cooks in their staff, but only during the reign of Pelagius was there someone of rarefied tastes to plan the menus and select the finest produce to be served at court. His son Uriel requested that I continue in that position, but I was forced to graciously decline the invitation, because of age and poor health.<br>
<br>
This book, however, is not intended to be autobiography. I have had a great many adventures in my life as a knight of fine dining, but my intention for this book is much more specific. Many times I have been asked, "What is the best thing you ever ate?"<br>
<br>
The answer to that is not a simple one. Much of the pleasure of a great meal is not only in the food: it is in the setting, the company, the mood. Eat an indifferently cooked roast or a simple stew with your one true love, and it is a meal to be remembered. Have an excellent twelve-course feast with dull company, while feeling slightly ill, and it will be forgotten, or remembered only with distaste. <br>
<br>
Sometimes meals are memorable for the experiences that come before them.<br>
<br>
Fairly recently, in northern Skyrim, I had a bit of bad luck. I was with a group of fishermen, observing their technique of capturing a very rare, very delicious fish called Merringar. The fish is found only far from shore, so it was a week's voyage out beyond civilization. Well, we found our school of Merringar, but as the fishermen began spearing them, the blood in the water attracted a family of Dreugh, who capsized the boat and everyone on it. I managed to save myself, but the fishermen and all our supplies were lost. Sailing is not, alas, a skill I have picked up over the years, and it took me three weeks, with no provisions, to find my way back to the kingdom of Solitude. I had managed to catch enough small fish to eat raw, but I was still delirious from hunger and thirst. The first meal I had on shore, of Nordic roast boar, Jazbay wine, and, yes, filet of Merringar would have been excellent under any circumstances, but because of the threat of starvation I had faced, it was divine beyond words.<br>
<br>
Sometimes meals are even memorable for the experiences that follow them.<br>
<br>
In a tavern in Falinesti, I was introduced to a simple peasant dish called Kollopi, delicious little balls of flesh, thick with spices and juice, so savory I asked the proprietress whence they came. Mother Pascost explained that the Kollopi were an arboreal rodent that fed exclusively on the most tender branches of the graht-oak, and I was fortunate enough to be in Valenwood at the time of the annual harvest. I was invited to join with a small colony of Imga monkeys, who alone could gather these succulent little mice. Because they lived only on the slenderest branches of the trees, and only on the ends of those same branches, the Imga had to climb beneath them and jump up to "pick" the Kollopi from their perches. Imga are, of course, naturally dexterous, but I was then relatively young and spry, and they let me help them. While I could never jump as high they could, with practice, I found that if I kept my head and upper body rigid, and launched off the ground with a scissors-like kick, I could reach the Kollopi on the lowest branches of the tree. I believe I gathered three Kollopi myself, though with considerable effort.<br>
<br>
To this day, I salivate at the thought of Kollopi, but my mind is on the image of myself and several dozen Imgas leaping around beneath the shade of the graht-oaks.<br>
<br>
Then, of course, there are the rare meals memorable for what came before, after, and during the meal, which brings me to the finest thing I ever ate, the meal that began my lifelong obsession with excellent cuisine.<br>
<br>
As a child growing up in Cheydinhal, I did not care for food at all. I recognized the value of nutrition, for I was not a complete dullard, but I cannot say that mealtime brought me any pleasure at all. Partly, of course, this was the fault of my family's cook, who believed that spices were an invention of the Daedra, and that good Imperials should like their food boiled, textureless and flavorless. Though I think she was alone in assigning a religious significance to this, my sampling of traditional Cyrodilic cuisine suggests that the philosophy is regrettably common in my homeland.<br>
<br>
Though I did not enjoy food per se, I was not a morose, unadventurous child in other respects. I enjoyed the fights in the Arena, of course, and nothing made me happier than wandering the streets of my town, with my imagination as my only companion. It was on one such jaunt on a sunny Fredas in Mid Year that I made a discovery that changed my heart and my life.<br>
<br>
There were several old abandoned houses down the street from my own home, and I often played around them, imagining them to be filled with desperate outlaws or haunted by hundreds of evil spirits. I never had the nerve to go inside. In fact, had I not that day seen some other children who had delighted in teasing me in the past, I would never have gone in. But I needed a sanctuary, so I ran into the closest one.<br>
<br>
The house seemed to be as desolate on the inside as on the outside, further proof that no one lived there, and had not for some time. When I heard footsteps, I could only assume that the loathsome little urchins I hoped to avoid had followed me in. I escaped to the basement, and from there, past a broken-down wall that led to a well. I could still hear the footsteps above, and I decided that I was still loath to confront my tormentors. Knocking aside the rusty locks on the well, I slipped down below.<br>
<br>
The well was dry, but I discovered it was far from empty. There was a sort of a sub-basement to the house, three large rooms that were clean, furnished, and evidently not abandoned at all. My senses told me someone was living in the house, after all: not only my sense of sight, but my sense of smell. For one of the rooms was a large red-painted kitchen, and spread out on the coals of the oven was a roast, carved into small morsels. Passing a beautiful and appropriate bas-relief of a mother carving a roast for her grateful children, I beheld the kitchen and the wonders within.<br>
<br>
Like I said, food had never interested me before, but I was transfixed, and even now as I write this, words fail me in describing the rich aroma that hung in the air. It was like nothing I had ever smelled in my family's kitchen, and I was unable to stop myself from popping one of the steaming chunks of meat into my mouth. The taste was magical, the flesh tender and sweet. Before I knew it, I had eaten everything on the stove, and I learned at that very second the truth that that food can and should be sublime.<br>
<br>
After gorging myself and having my culinary epiphany, I was conflicted on what to do. Part of me wanted to wait down in that red kitchen until the chef returned, so I could ask him what his secret recipe was for the delicious meat. Part of me recognized that I had stolen into someone's house and eaten their dinner, and it would be wise to leave while I could. That was what I did.<br>
<br>
Time and again, I've tried to return to that strange, wonderful place, but Cheydinhal has changed over time. Old houses have been reclaimed, and new houses abandoned. I know what to look for on the inside of the house - the well, the beautiful etching of a woman preparing to carve out a roast for her children, the red kitchen itself - but I have never been able to find the house again. After a while, as I grew older, I stopped trying. It is better as it remains in my memory, the most perfect meal I ever ate.<br>
<br>
The inspiration for my life that followed all was cooked up, together with that fabulous meat, right there in the Red Kitchen.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
訳文
<font face=1><DIV align="center">赤の厨房の読書家<br>
Simocles Quo著<br>
<br>
<DIV align="left"><IMG src="Book/fancy_font/p_59x62.dds" width=59 height=62>elagius IV（現皇帝の父君であり、今はもう御隠れになられている）という「Tamrielにおける最高位の鑑定家」にこの地位を授けられたということは、元々控えめであった私にしても、大きな喜びであったことは認めなければならない。彼は私を最初に帝国皇室の料理長へと任命された。他の今までの皇帝たちも勿論、専属の料理主任や調理人を抱えていた。しかしPelagiusの統治期間では特に、高尚な方々の舌を楽しませる為に、献立は練られて、最高級の食材を選び、皇室の食卓に出された。彼の息子であるUrielに今のまま料理長を続けるよう言われたが、老いて衰えた体力では、その誘いを丁重に断らざるを得なかった。<br>
<br>
この本は、しかしながら、自伝にしようとは思っていない。私は人生の中でいつくかのとてつもない冒険を経験してきた、まるで騎士の素晴らしい正餐のような。だが、この本で私の意図するのは、もっと明快なものだ。今まで何度も私はこの質問を問いかけてきた「貴方がかつて食べたもので、一番よかったものは何ですか？」<br>
<br>
この答えは、シンプルではない。素晴らしい喜びに溢れた食事というのは、食べ物だけに依るものではない――それは食器の並び方だとか、同席者だとか、そのときの気分もある。焼いたか、もしくは単に煮ただけの美味しくない料理を食べたときでも、そこに貴方の本当の愛があれば、そのことをずっと覚えているだろう。素晴らしい12品のコースの大宴会であっても、頭の悪い同席者と一緒に居れば少し気分を害する。そんな食事は忘れてしまうか、嫌な出来事としか覚えていないだろう。<br>
<br>
時として食事は経験とともに思い出に残り、その経験が先んじて思い出される。<br>
<br>
ごく最近、北方のSkyrimで、私はちょっとした不幸に見舞われた。稀有な漁獲術を観察する為に、漁師の一団と共に過ごすことになった。捕獲するのはとても美味なMerringarという魚だ。この魚は沖から遠く離れた場所でのみ見つかる為、文明的な生活から遠く離れた、一週間にも及ぶ遠出をすることとなった。そうしてMerringarを見つければ、漁師は銛で刺し捕まえ始めた。すると、海にただよった血がDreughの一家を呼び寄せてしまった。Dreughによって、ボートは乗っていた人もろとも転覆したのだ。私はなんとかして生き残ろうとしたのだが、漁師たちと物資は失ってしまった。悲しいかな、これまでに培ってきた私の技術の中に航海術はない。Solitudeの王国へ戻る方法を見つけるのに、備えも無いまま三週間を要した。そのまま生で食べられる小さな魚をどうにか捕まえていたのだが、それでも飢えや乾きによって、なおも意識は混濁していた。その後摂った最初の食事は海辺で、Nordic roast boarと、Jazbay wine、そしてそう、Merringarのヒレ。飢餓の恐怖と直面した後なこともあって、それはとてつもなく素晴らしく、言葉に出来ないものだった。<br>
<br>
時として食事は経験を従えて覚えられる。<br>
<br>
FalinestiのTavernで、Kollopiと呼ばれる簡単な農家につたわる郷土料理を教えてもらったことがある。濃厚なスパイスと汁に味付けされた、香ばしく美味な小さな肉団子で、私はそこの住人の女主人に教わった。Mother PascostによるとKollopiは樹上性齧歯類で、もっぱらgrath-oakでも柔らかな枝の上に住んでいる。幸運なことに、Valenwoodで年にある収穫期に私はいたのだ。この美味で小さいマウスたちを唯一捕まえることが出来るImga monkeysの小規模な植民地に招待された。なぜ唯一かというと、そのマウスは木々でも最も細い枝に住んでおり、そして死ぬまで同じ枝にいるからだ。Imgaは止まり木の下まで登ると、そこにいるKollopiを「摘み取る」のだ。Imgaたちは、言うまでもなく生まれついて器用である。そのときの私は若く元気もあって、彼らの手伝いをやってみるよう促された。練習したところで彼らのように高くジャンプすることは出来なかったが、頭と上半身を固定したまま地面を鋏のように蹴って身体を打ちあげれば、木の一番低い枝にいるKollopiになら手が届くことに気づいたのだ。その苦労の甲斐があったからこそ、三匹のKollopiを私一人で捕まえることが出来たと信じている。<br>
<br>
今になってKollopiのことについて考え至ると、Graht-oaksの木陰の下、飛び跳ねている自分の姿の数々が思い浮かばれる。<br>
<br>
これからの出来事は、やはりというか、今まで至高の食事に取りつかれてこのかた、私の長い生涯における最高の食事では後にも先にも、この食事の思い出はとても珍しい。<br>
<br>
Cheydinhalで子育てをしている間、私は食べ物のことには完全に無頓着になっていた。栄養価を疎かにするほど頭の悪い人間ではなかったのだが、一切喜びを感じない食事だとは、私には言うことが出来なかった。部分的には、そう、これは家族の料理のせいだった。家族は調味料はDaedraがもたらしたものだと信じていた。そして、良きImperialは食べ物をゆがいて食べるのが好きだとも。歯ごたえも風味もあったものじゃなかった。
Though I think she was alone in assigning a religious significance to this, my sampling of traditional Cyrodilic cuisine suggests that the philosophy is regrettably common in my homeland.<br>
<br>
Though I did not enjoy food per se, I was not a morose, unadventurous child in other respects. I enjoyed the fights in the Arena, of course, and nothing made me happier than wandering the streets of my town, with my imagination as my only companion. It was on one such jaunt on a sunny Fredas in Mid Year that I made a discovery that changed my heart and my life.<br>
<br>
There were several old abandoned houses down the street from my own home, and I often played around them, imagining them to be filled with desperate outlaws or haunted by hundreds of evil spirits. I never had the nerve to go inside. In fact, had I not that day seen some other children who had delighted in teasing me in the past, I would never have gone in. But I needed a sanctuary, so I ran into the closest one.<br>
<br>
The house seemed to be as desolate on the inside as on the outside, further proof that no one lived there, and had not for some time. When I heard footsteps, I could only assume that the loathsome little urchins I hoped to avoid had followed me in. I escaped to the basement, and from there, past a broken-down wall that led to a well. I could still hear the footsteps above, and I decided that I was still loath to confront my tormentors. Knocking aside the rusty locks on the well, I slipped down below.<br>
<br>
The well was dry, but I discovered it was far from empty. There was a sort of a sub-basement to the house, three large rooms that were clean, furnished, and evidently not abandoned at all. My senses told me someone was living in the house, after all: not only my sense of sight, but my sense of smell. For one of the rooms was a large red-painted kitchen, and spread out on the coals of the oven was a roast, carved into small morsels. Passing a beautiful and appropriate bas-relief of a mother carving a roast for her grateful children, I beheld the kitchen and the wonders within.<br>
<br>
Like I said, food had never interested me before, but I was transfixed, and even now as I write this, words fail me in describing the rich aroma that hung in the air. It was like nothing I had ever smelled in my family's kitchen, and I was unable to stop myself from popping one of the steaming chunks of meat into my mouth. The taste was magical, the flesh tender and sweet. Before I knew it, I had eaten everything on the stove, and I learned at that very second the truth that that food can and should be sublime.<br>
<br>
After gorging myself and having my culinary epiphany, I was conflicted on what to do. Part of me wanted to wait down in that red kitchen until the chef returned, so I could ask him what his secret recipe was for the delicious meat. Part of me recognized that I had stolen into someone's house and eaten their dinner, and it would be wise to leave while I could. That was what I did.<br>
<br>
Time and again, I've tried to return to that strange, wonderful place, but Cheydinhal has changed over time. Old houses have been reclaimed, and new houses abandoned. I know what to look for on the inside of the house - the well, the beautiful etching of a woman preparing to carve out a roast for her children, the red kitchen itself - but I have never been able to find the house again. After a while, as I grew older, I stopped trying. It is better as it remains in my memory, the most perfect meal I ever ate.<br>
<br>
The inspiration for my life that followed all was cooked up, together with that fabulous meat, right there in the Red Kitchen.<br>
