The Scribe(41)
“All I need now is a bear,” he added. “And that’s where you come in.”
Theresa nodded, assuming he was referring to the stuffing process, but when Althar told her that they would have to hunt it first, she prayed to God he was jesting. They spent the morning getting the cave in order.
Althar cleaned the skins while Theresa concentrated on cleaning the various instruments. The old man brushed the stuffed animals until they shone, explaining that in Fulda he would earn two denarii for a ferret and a fox, enough to buy five pecks of wheat. For an owl they would pay him less—because birds were easier animals to stuff—yet even so, selling one would enable him to buy a couple of knives and a pot or two. A bear, however, was different. If he could hunt and stuff a bear, he would take it to Aquis-Granum and sell it to Charlemagne himself.
“And how will you capture one?”
“I don’t know. When I locate one we’ll find out.”
At midday they returned to the smaller bear cave. They were hungry when they arrived, and Leonora greeted them with a cup of wine and a hunk of cheese.
“Don’t eat too much. Leave some room for the rest,” she warned and proceeded to bring out meatballs with preserved figs, bird pie, and hot compote. Halfway through the banquet, Leonora informed them that Hoos had woken up, taken some broth, and gone back to sleep.
“Did he say anything?” asked Theresa.
“He just moaned. Perhaps he’ll be more talkative tonight.”
When they had finished, Althar went out to relieve himself and check on the animals. Theresa helped clear the table, taking off the top and tidying away the trestle. She did not have time to sweep up before Satan cleaned the floor with his tongue. When she was about to throw the scraps out, Leonora stopped her with a gesture of disapproval.
“I don’t know how you spent most of your time while growing up, but it certainly couldn’t have been doing any cooking,” she said.
Theresa told her about her passion for reading and Leonora looked at her as though she were the oddest of creatures. The young woman explained that she had frequented schools and scriptoria since she was a child, and once she had grown up, she had gone to work as a parchment-maker’s assistant.
“A great help to your mother, then,” she reproached.
“But since trying your dishes, I’m eager to learn how to make them,” she said, seeking her approval.
Leonora laughed heartily. She consented that, in the eyes of men, if a girl could not cook, it was worse than if she were flat chested.
“Although, you have nothing to worry about in that department,” she noted.
Theresa looked at herself and then at Hoos and felt a fluttering in her stomach. She pulled her loose dress tight to her body, seeing the fabric mold to her breasts.
Leonora seemed to read her thoughts. “He’s certainly handsome,” the woman said, “and shapely.” She winked at Theresa and flashed a wily smile.
Theresa reddened and smiled back, but she quickly steered the conversation back to recipes.
In the afternoon, Leonora listed the dishes that each season favored. In winter, the weaker of the animals they kept would be slaughtered before they died from the cold. She would have to learn not just how to cook the various cuts of meat, but also how to smoke, salt, and cure them. However, most of the meat was hunted, so it was only plentiful with the arrival of spring. As for vegetables, she described the mushrooms that grew in the forest, and the importance of knowing what they were before cooking them, and she extolled the virtues of cabbage—red and white—cauliflower, and thistle. Finally, she described the benefits of pulses.
“They might give you wind, but they make for good eating,” she laughed, letting out a timely fart that reverberated around the cave.
She spoke of the importance of leftovers. In her experience, a good cook must know how to turn a handful of scraps into a delicious dish, and she discussed the many resources for this task. Her favorite tip involved using garum, a condiment that could turn the most insipid stew into an explosion of flavor.
“The best garum comes from Hispania,” she explained, “but it is so expensive that only the rich can afford it. Years ago, a Roman merchant taught me how to prepare this relish using salt, oil, and fish tripe. But don’t think it can be any old fish guts: Tuna or sturgeon give good results, but I use herring tripe, which has a lot more flavor. Once it has been macerated and dried, it can be mixed with wine, vinegar, or even pepper—if you have the money to buy that, of course.”
“But if this garum is so good, why mix it?”
“Heavens, lass, for some variety of course! Garum is like sex: At the beginning it’s always good, but the best thing is knowing how to mix it up. Look at us,” she said with a smile, “married for thirty years and we still chase each other about. It’s like everything: Wear the same dress for three days and even a blind man will grow tired of you. Add a flower or change your hair, and just watch how they run after you.”
“I don’t want men running after me,” she responded dismissively.
“You don’t? So what does a young girl think about then?”
“I don’t know. My job. My family… I don’t need men,” she said, keeping to herself that she had already celebrated her nineteenth birthday.
“I see. And that’s why you were staring at that young man’s dangler when I was washing it.”